Although George Hanlon had become adept at the use of the minds of birds, animals, fish, rodents and insects even at a considerable distance, he could not project his mind to any great length to find and gain control of such a mind, unless he had already used that mind and knew its texture and characteristics, or unless another part of his mind was already at that distant point in another brain.

Thus, in the present instance, he could not project his mind the many miles between his present location and the residence of the Ruler, Elus Amir, and find an animal or bird mind he could take over. He could have done it, that is, with one of the cavals he had at various times handled, but one of them could not get into the palace and the Ruler's suite. Nor could he locate any of the birds he had used out there.

He did, however, project his mind into Inver's caval—the one he had helped heal—and from that vantage point tried to find a bird he could control. But none seemed to be anywhere near the stables.

So, he had to start closer to where he was, and work outward. With time of the essence at the moment, a bird must be used. Just how he was to get a bird into the residence, and more or less keep it inconspicuous and unseen during his survey, was a problem that would have to be tackled when the time came.

Lying on the bed in the little room, therefore, he quested about the nearby neighborhood trees until he found a swift-flying bird he could use. It took but a moment to do so, and to take full and complete control of its mind and body. Then the bird, whose brain now contained as large a portion of Hanlon's mind as he could force into it, was winging at its top speed toward the official residence of Amir, the Ruler.

"The palace is in sight," Hanlon's voice was low but penetrant, after a time. "I'm looking for an open window or door."

The other men watched with amazement and intense curiosity as the young man lay there on the bed, his eyes closed and his face drawn with concentration, as they could see in the dim light of the shaded lamp Hooper had risen and lighted. Both of the other S S men knew much of what Hanlon could thus do, yet watching him do it was a new experience to both, and one that filled them with deepest wonder and a sort of awe.

The silence, even though of only two or three minutes duration, seemed like hours to the waiting watchers, then a jubilant "Ah!" let them know Hanlon had succeeded in the first part of his quest. "Got in through an open window in an upper story ... heck, the door's shut."

Another pause, and then the voice continued, "Here's another. Hah, this one opens into a hallway. Now, which way is Amir's suite?"

They waited with impatience while they knew the bird Hanlon was controlling was seeking the proper portion of the interior of that great building. It seemed long and long before the soft voice spoke again.

"He must have gone to bed—the door is shut. I'll have to get outside and try again, but now that I know where it is I'll see if I can get directly into his room."

Hooper whispered in a tone he thought only Newton could hear. "By the shade of Snyder, but this is spooky. If I didn't know he could really do it, I'd swear it was impossible."

But only a portion of Hanlon's mind was in that distant avian brain. The rest was here in his own body, and heard the comment.

"Yeh," he drawled, "I know it's weird, and even I'm not used to thinking about it yet. Never thought how it would affect others. You don't need to whisper, though. The two parts of my mind are separate and distinct, so that I know what is going on in both ... ah, one of the windows in the bedroom is opened, but only a crack. Maybe I can squeeze ... did it, but I lost a few feathers. But I'm inside now. Let's see. There's a molding quite high up on the wall. It's wide enough so I can roost on that, sideways. Now we'll just have to wait and watch."

"Is Amir all right?" his father asked anxiously.

Hanlon grinned. "The way he's snoring he must be."

But the question reminded Hanlon that the Ruler had been wounded. He made the bird fly down to the bed, and through its eyes saw only a small bandage on one of Amir's arms—luckily for him the Ruler slept with his arms outside the covers. "Must be he got only a slight burn, after all," he said.

"Is there anyone close to his room—or can't you tell?" the admiral asked after a few moments of silence.

"I'll see if I can find out." Hanlon sent his mind questing out from the bird, and soon reported, "There're two men in an adjoining room ... they're guards ... from what I can read of their minds they're not thinking any seditious or murderous thoughts. Just playing a game of some sort while keeping on watch."

"Better keep checking them from time to time, though, hadn't you?" Hooper asked.

"Yeh, it'd be a good idea."

The other men were tired and not well, and despite their efforts to keep awake, dropped off to sleep. Surprisingly, even Hanlon's body and the main portion of his mind also lapsed into the unconsciousness of sleep. But the part in the bird kept awake—and so did the tiny thread of consciousness that connected it with Hanlon.

Some time later, about midnight, Hanlon, through the bird, heard a stirring sound in the anteroom, and investigated. The guard was being changed, and these two newcomers, he found from their minds, were tools of Irad.

Along that thread of thought sped the warning, and Hanlon's body and the balance of his mind came fully awake. He lay there for some time, studying the situation, but nothing seemed to be happening. He was almost back to sleep again—his body, that is—when the bird heard a fumbling at the door of Amir's room, although the sound was softly muted as though the one out there was using the utmost stealth in hopes of not being discovered. Hanlon's mind quickly investigated, and found only one mind there. Evidently the guards had left, for this was a new personality.

Hanlon reached out a hand and shook his father into wakefulness. "Someone's outside, trying to get Amir's door unlocked, or opened," he reported.

Newton called Hooper, who sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes while the admiral explained in swift words.

"The door's locked from the inside, and the key is still in the lock," Hanlon told them. "I made the bird fly down and look ... whoever is at it must be using something like pliers to try to turn the key."

Admiral Newton jumped out of bed, lit the lamp, and commanded Hooper, "Get up and dress. We'll have to rush out there." He turned to Hanlon. "Can you come with us, and still keep en rapport with your bird?"

"Sure," Hanlon was already throwing off the covers, and getting up. "The fellow, whoever he is, although I would imagine it might be Irad, is having trouble with the key, but he'll probably make it sooner or later."

"D'you suppose we can get out there in time?" Hooper asked.

"We'll certainly try," the admiral grunted, leaning down to fasten his shoes.

"Can you wake the Ruler?" he asked anxiously, a few moments later. "He might have a better chance, if awake."

"Sure," Hanlon said, and a moment later, "the bird flew down and brushed its wingtips across his face. He's awake now ... he's sitting up ... lighting the lamp ... I sent the bird close to him then over to the door ... he's watching it ... now he sees the key turning ... he's jumped out of bed ... running to another door leading out of the room."

The three finished dressing, and now ran from the room and down the stairs. Outside the admiral commanded "Follow me," and ran toward the back of the house. They saw the dim outlines of a shed, and a high-powered, family-sized touring tricycle. They piled into the seats even as the admiral was getting it started.

Swiftly he backed the car out and into the street, and then took off with a full-throated roar from the powerful, souped-up engine.

"Special job the Corps' experts fixed up for me," he explained as the others gasped at the unexpected speed.

Hanlon, through the bird's eyes, was still watching that distant effort to unlock the door, and relaying to the others from time to time what he was seeing.

"Ah, it's unlocked ... it's opening ... but the Ruler is in the other room and has locked that door."

"The old boy's not so dumb," Hooper applauded.

"I'll say he isn't," Hanlon agreed joyfully. "He's plugging the keyhole."

He was silent a moment, then exclaimed, "The intruder's Irad, just as I thought it might be ... he's surprised the Ruler isn't in bed asleep ... he's gone over to try the other door ... he's found it's locked and the keyhole plugged ... he seems to have lost his head—he's pounding on that door, and yelling."

He half-straightened, then slumped down into his seat, and his face strained with concentration. Hooper, in the back seat, leaned forward and started to speak, but Newton restrained him. "Let him alone, Curt—he must be working on something difficult."

Hanlon was beating at the barriers in Adwal Irad's mind, trying to get in, even though he knew he had never been able to do so before. But it was all he could think of to do at the moment, and he had to do something. Besides, it was plain to him now that the man was completely insane—the way Irad was acting and the things he was saying and thinking showed it so clearly. So Hanlon had withdrawn entirely from the bird's mind, and was now working on Irad's with all his power.

The Second-In-Line had drawn his flamegun and was firing at the door, trying to burn out the lock or through the door panels.

Hanlon was almost in a frenzy of desperation. They had to stop this madman someway. He knew his father was pushing his car at its unexpected top speed, and that they would be there in a matter of minutes. But he was afraid that even those minutes might be too late. He did not see how they could possibly get there in time. For the door was beginning to burn from the fierce heat of the flamer.

Hanlon still beat at that barrier in Irad's mind. He seemed to sense somehow that it was weakening, was ... was disintegrating ... was changing horribly under the influence of hatred and the madness the man seemed to feel.

All this time the admiral had been trying to coax even more speed out of his souped-up tricycle, and now in the swiftly-nearing distance they could see the few lights that denoted the residence. Soon they were close enough to see that the gates were closed.

"Those gates strong ones?" Newton asked without turning his head.

"No, mostly ornamental."

"Hang on, then, we're going through. Curt, grab the kid."

Hooper leaned forward, took hold of Hanlon's shoulders with his strong hands, and braced himself against the back of the front seat in which the younger man was sitting.

A couple of guards had run up to the gate at sight and sound of that speeding machine. But they ducked hastily back as they saw it was neither going to stop nor swerve.

There was a rocking jolt, a crash, and the car was past the crumpled gates, careening wildly. The admiral fought the wheel with all his strength. By the time they came close to the steps leading up to the main entrance, he had it under control.

There was a screech of brakes that brought several attendants on the run through the door. The trike slid to a halt, and two of the three men in it jumped out and dashed up the stairs.

"The Ruler's being attacked," the admiral cried imperiously. "One of you show us his rooms."

A servant, half-dazed by sight of those strangers in their peculiar uniforms, and subconsciously controlled by the command in Newton's voice, obeyed.

They raced across the entrance foyer to the great stairs that led to the upper story. Other servants were coming into the hallway, sleepily rubbing their eyes, and most of them only partially dressed. Their wondering eyes followed the racing men in a stupefied way, but none tried to stop the intruders.

"Down here," the servant dashed into a side hallway, and the two secret servicemen pounded after him.

They turned another corner, and the servant slid to a stop. Two guards were standing there, flamers in their hands, menacing a small group of servants.

Newton took it all in with a single glance. From what Hanlon had said he knew the men were Irad's. "Burn those guards!" he snapped the command at Hooper, and the latter's blaster spoke twice—fierce blasts of death that made the flashes of the flameguns seem like candle-flames. The two guards died instantly.

Newton and the servant were already dashing into Amir's bedroom.

Meanwhile, back in the machine where he had stayed, Hanlon was still working on Irad's mind. Now he thought he perceived a minute opening toward one edge of that decomposing barrier. He attacked it with all his mental strength, and it began to crumble a bit faster. Further and further Hanlon dug away at that tottering mentality until there was an orifice completely through the shield. Instantly he pushed his mind through ... down and down, in and into the deeper parts of Irad's thoughts and memories.

And his body stiffened suddenly at what he found.

Newton and the servant pushed on ahead into the bedroom, just in time to see the man, Irad, sink to the floor, writhing in apparent pain.

But even so there was still enough control in the maddened conspirator so that he swung his flamegun and sent a streak of fire flashing toward the intruders.

The servant, not expecting such a thing, and slow of reflexes, caught most of the blast, and died almost instantly. Newton, trained to quick action and always expecting the unexpected, ducked down and away. Even so, an edge of the flame caught him in the shoulder. The sudden, intolerable pain threw him off balance, and he sank to the floor, his uninjured hand grasping the wound, trying to stanch the flow of blood.

George Hanlon was still in the tricycle, his mind a welter of conflicting emotions. He must be nuts—such a thing as he had just discovered was simply not possible.

"But it is," a cold, precise, soundless voice spoke in his mind. "It is not the mind of this Adwal Irad you are now contacting, but that of another, who has been controlling this entity for some time now."

"Who ... who are you, then?" Hanlon gasped.

"I am from another, distant section of this galaxy, here on much the same errand as yourself and your assistants. I am banding together the various inhabited planets in my sector the same as your Federation is doing in yours. This planet is about midway between the two groups. I discovered it some time ago, and after thorough study of it decided to annex it to my oligarchy. But I have failed, and you have won."

"You mean you were responsible for all the opposition we've encountered?" Hanlon asked in surprise.

"That is correct. Working through the mind of this now-dying entity called Adwal Irad, I caused certain things to be done, including the increase in what you call crimes, in hopes they would alienate these people from your Federation's invitation, which was made shortly before I came here to work. It was my plan to make them join with me after denying you, and for certain things promised this Irad in the way of personal power, he more or less agreed—although I had to force him on several occasions."

"So that's why he changed so," Hanlon now knew the answers to many puzzles.

"Yes, there was continual conflict in Irad's mind. It was conditioned to a love and loyalty for his world, and certain ethics of what he considered the fundamentals of right and wrong, that are totally unknown to me. In fact, these people are almost non-understandably different from the races in my oligarchy, but they have many resources I need. Thus the disturbance between what this Irad innately felt and what I forced him to do, drove him insane. Even now his body is dead, and I am keeping his mind alive merely while I converse with you—a thing I have wished to do for long and long. I shall leave now, for my project has failed. I congratulate you on your victory."

There was a moment's hesitation, then the thought came again to Hanlon. "But there is one thing I would like to know before I go."

There was almost a trace of pleading, of indecision in that hitherto coldly logical, precise thought—and Hanlon wondered anew what sort of being this could possibly be with whom he was telepathing. For he could perceive nothing whatever as to the bodily shape or size of this enigmatic stranger.

"Why was I unable to make contact with your mind?" the alien asked, and its thoughts were almost a wail. "I perceive now that you are very young, very immature and inexperienced. I should have been able to read you easily. My abilities must be very small indeed, even though I have always considered myself so competent. Are you of a different race from those others with whom you worked? I know you are not a native of this planet, for your mind texture is far different from theirs, as is your fellows'. Even as yours, in some ways, differs from theirs."

"I honestly do not know the answer," Hanlon thought frankly. "I am of the same race as my companions, but I have some slight additional mental powers not usually found in my people. It may be I have a natural block or barrier in my mind they do not possess."

"It must be so. I could make no contact with you at all, whereas I could penetrate and control easily with the others. It is only now, while we are jointly tenanting this weaker mind, that I can converse with you through its brain—I still cannot do so directly. It is very puzzling ..." and Hanlon felt the withdrawal of that mind.

Irad's body, now that the mind which had been keeping it not-dead, or semi-alive, had slumped to the floor in full death.