"You're suggesting an impossibility," said Yobo, "unless…" He stared hard at Norby. Then he added, "Unless this-uh-barrel you clutch so tightly is by way of being a sorcerer. What about my private cruiser? Would that be small enough?"

"How small is it?"

"Small enough to hold just me, although you and your robot-barrel can squeeze in if you don't mind sleeping on the floor."

"Why would we have to sleep on the floor, sir?"

"Because you can "t have my private cruiser without me on it, and I sleep in the one bed. That's the privilege of rank, Cadet."

"Take you, sir?" Jeff leaned over Norby's hat and whispered, "Can you move the admiral along with the ship and us?"

Norby squeaked, "No! Look at the size of him!"

Yobo heard that and smiled. "I'm not exactly stunted, but I am not going to sit here helpless. I've had enough of this whole thing. If you can get a ship into Grand Central Station, Cadet, I want to be with it. If anything happens to me, there are several good men-in their own estimation, if in no one else's-any one of whom could succeed me at once."

Jeff said promptly, "Norby, you can do it. Don't let me hear any negatives. Admiral, you can come, but let me be in temporary command."

"Cadet Wells," said Yobo with a grim smile, "you are more like your brother than I would have imagined. But before we make a move, you're going to tell me exactly how you expect to move the ship to Earth. Any ordinary movement and we'll be lost-and you know it."

Jeff thought awhile. "Admiral," he said, "will you give me your word that what I am about to say will be held in strictest confidence?"

"That's an impertinent request," Yobo said. "Any information you have that is of importance to system security should be delivered at once and without restrictions. What do you mean 'strictest confidence?"

Jeff said miserably, "Well, sir, Norby can move us through hyperspace without a transmit."

"Indeed? I rather suspected you had something like that in mind, since nothing else would accomplish what you plan to do. And how does Norby bring about this impossibility?"

"I don't know. And he doesn't, either."

"After this is over, shouldn't he be taken apart so that we can find out the secret of hyperspatial travel?"

Norby squawked. "Jeff, have nothing to do with this oversize monster. He's as bad as that dragon."

"What dragon?" asked Yobo.

"Just a mythical monster, sir. But that's why I want the information held confidential. If it's found out, all the scientists would want to take him apart, and they still might not find out, and then we might not be able to put him together again, and we would end up with nothing."

"We would kill the goose that lays the golden eggs," whispered Norby angrily. "Tell him that, Jeff. Only make it a more intelligent bird. "

Jeff nudged Norby into silence. "As it is, Admiral, Norby would make an important secret weapon for the Federation. He has all sorts of powers that he can handle with perfect ease-almost."

"Very well, but why aren't we taking a squadron of armed men and a battle cruiser, then?"

"Well, Admiral, Norby's powers are, for the moment, somewhat limited."

The admiral laughed. "You mean he's a small robot and can only handle small things."

"You are not a small thing, you overgrown human, you!" shouted Norby.

The admiral laughed again. "I suppose I'm not. But let's go ahead, you undergrown barrel, you. I'll have my personal cruiser made ready."

An hour later they were on the cruiser, and Norby had plugged himself into the ship's engine. "I don't promise I can make this work," he grumbled. "Getting an entire ship with me through hyperspace is no small task."

"You can do it, Norby," Jeff said.

"Me? An undergrown barrel?"

"Yes, you. An ancient, intelligent, very brave, and powerful robot," said Jeff. " And if you don't, I will take out your works and fill your barrel with peanut butter-rancid peanut butter, so that the dragon-mother won't notice the nail smell anymore."

The jump through hyperspace was not quite perfect.

"We're not inside Grand Central," said Jeff.

"Well, there it is, right ahead," Norby said indignantly. "You have to allow for a little slippage. Ask any engineer."

"This will do fine," said the admiral. "We just require a tiny normal space correction."

Two seconds later, the admiral's personal cruiser was hovering on an antigrav beam in the air above Ing's throne. The ship was draped in flags, and a window behind it was smashed.

"Brilliant, Admiral," said Jeff. "Brilliant."

Norby groaned. "It was my hyperspatial jump, and it's my antigrav beam. I'm the one who's brilliant, only I don't know how long I can hold the ship up. My insides feel as if they're caving in."

Let the admiral get some credit, Norby, Jeff said telepathically. Rank has its privileges.

"Now hear this!" The admiral's bass voice rolled out across the vastness of the room. Ing himself, his mask still in place, was standing next to his throne looking up at the ship. He made no sound. His soldiers stood as if in a trance, stunned by the appearance of the ship.

"We have all of you under our guns," said Admiral Yobo, touching a button so that at least one gun extruded from the hull and aimed itself directly at Ing. "Put down your weapons and surrender. There will be no Solar Empire and no Emperor."

The ship settled slowly upon the throne, smashing it. Jeff heaved a sigh of relief.

Ing ran for the transmit.

"Stop him!" Jeff cried.

"We don't want to kill him," the admiral said, "or they'll make a heroic martyr out of him. Let's see, now, I might be able to destroy the transmit, but that might-"

"Let me out, Jeff," said Norby. "I'll do it."

The admiral, coming to an instant decision, touched another button, and a panel opened. "Get him, little robot!" he cried.

Norby hurtled out and aimed himself at Ing, but the transmit doors were opening and Ing was almost there.

Out of the transmit stepped Fargo, Albany, and a band of armed Manhattan policemen. "Greetings, Emperor," Fargo said with composure. "We were about to depose you, but I see from Norby here that my younger brother must have arrived with the same notion in mind. You can't beat the Wells brothers.

"Fargo," came the booming and unmistakable voice of Admiral Yobo, "what happened? Report!"

"Admiral? You're here, too? Well, it was simple. We were imprisoned here, but Albany and I got out, thanks to Norby, and after that things worked out exactly as I had hoped. The population of Manhattan was rising in revolt. It may be small, but the people of this island are very patriotic. I attacked the Central Park Precinct house and took it, aided by some clever martial arts on the part of this beautiful policewoman, Albany Jones, whom I expect will be promoted as a result."

"We were also helped by a woman who said she was a birdwatcher," Albany said. "The woman, a Miss Higgins, said she didn't care what happened to the rest of the universe, but that Central Park belonged to the people. She led the crowd against Ing's Ignominies and personally incapacitated at least seven Ingrates before I lost count."

"We liberated and armed a number of policemen and then proceeded to take over other areas," Fargo continued. " At this moment any part of Manhattan not under our control is rapidly coming under it. And as for you, Ing the Inglorious, I suspect you will shortly have a large headache."

Ing had been standing in stunned and helpless silence, while his men were raising their arms in surrender. Norby, who had been circling him, now lunged for his head, which he struck with a metallic clang. Ing went down hard and, as Norby sat on him, the mask came off his face.

The admiral's voice rang out in disgust. "I might have known," he bellowed. "Ing the Intriguer is fussbudget Two Gidlow. I suspected it might be someone in Security! How else could a takeover be carried through with such precision?"