He clasped his hands in front of him and his sight turned inward as he lost himself to his tale.

"When I left school to return to my own country you can imagine how excited I was. I had heard my father talk about the mountains of India and the quaint villages perched on the sides of hills and on the edges of chasms. I was eager to see the land of my fathers, to walk where they had walked.

"But I was naive, my friend, dreaming of idyllic golden lands. I went to the mountains of Nagaland and I walked through villages that have not changed in a thousand years. But instead of quaint and happy peasants I saw people suffering unspeakably, people trapped by something so terrible it twists their minds and hearts. Do you know what it is?-fear. A fear so great that it drives them to take their own lives in despair. They die by the scores every year, throwing themselves, screaming, off the mountains to crush out their lives on the rocks below and so stop the terror. Many more hundreds collapse under the strain. Their minds snap and they become little more than automatons."

"But what are they afraid of?"

"They have a name for it: Supno Kaa Chor. Translated it means Dream Thief."

"Picturesque."

"It is no joke. These people believe that there is a god-the Dream Thief-who creeps from house to house in the night and steals the dreams of men while they sleep. He replaces their dreams with his own, and thereby sows the seeds of madness. They say he lives in a mountain place in the Himalayas where he keeps his stolen dreams locked in a great ruby which is guarded by six black demons from the underworld.

"It is said that when a person has no more dreams left in him the Dream Thief sends him into the night to take his own life."

"You don't believe that nonsense, surely."

"I believe there is something behind it, yes. It is real; I have seen its effects. I have seen the mindless wander the hills, screaming in terror in broad daylight. I have seen the broken bodies collected from the dry streambeds below the cliffs in the morning after the Dream Thief has passed through.

"Whatever it is, it is real."

"But you can't think that I-that I have anything at all in common with a bunch of frightened hillfollk."

Adjani eyed him strangely. "I am a connection man, remember? I make a living providing connections between seemingly unrelated facts and information; it is my job to suggest what does not readily occur to others. I am telling you what I believe is possible. It is up to you to discover whether there is something to be gained by examining what I have told you."

Spence stared at Adjani's grim expression. He was inclined to doubt the connection his friend had suggested; but for the obvious foreboding Adjani seemed to feel, he would have dismissed it outright.

"What do you think I should do?" he asked.

"We must work out a plan of action and a way to keep you safe until we can get back to Gotham to investigate."

"But I am in no danger here." Spence dismissed the notion with a sweep of his hand.

"You are in great danger, my friend. You yourself have felt it or you would not have come on this trip as you did. You know there is truth to what I say."

A buzzer sounded, signaling the end of burn-time gravity in five minutes, and everyone in the dining room rose and took their utensils and dishes back to the galley window. Spence slurped up the last of his coffee and stood. He hesitated, looking down at Adjani's upturned face and the concern written there.

"All right. I'll do what you say. Where do we start?" …

HOCKING GLARED AT HIs henchmen; his eyes, red rimmed from lack of sleep, burned out from his sockets like hot coals. His voice shook with anger and frustration.

"Three weeks he's been gone! Not a trace of him! Not a sign! And we have learned nothing from that slip of a girl. Mr. Millen, have you received an answer to that tracer you put on the pack age she sent?"

"It came in only an hour ago."

"Well, what is it? I'm waiting."

"The package was sent to Dr. Reston's home-rather, his father's home. It contained only the model and a birthday card. Nothing else."

"Hmm – that is interesting." The egg-chair spun around slowly in midair as Hocking pondered the meaning of this latest shred of information. Neither of the others spoke; they did not „ dare break in on their leader's thoughts. They had endured Hocking's fits every waking hour for three long weeks, and they feared for their lives. But suddenly Hocking spun around to face them and his deathly countenance lit with a wicked glee.

"Gentlemen!" he announced. "Our slippery water rat, Dr. Reston, has jumped ship. He has tricked us!"

Tickler shook his head. "How could he? We have watched every shuttle and checked every manifest-he never left the station. There is no other way out."

"There is one other way, you fools! The transport!" Hocking grimaced and his eyes blazed. "He's on that transport to Mars!"

"He was not listed on the manifest, I tell you. I checked it a dozen times. Not even under an assumed name."

"How we have underestimated our friend, gentlemen. Of course he is on that ship. He arranged to have himself put aboard outside normal channels-probably that bubble-headed girl acted for him. She is Zanderson's daughter after all. There is one quick way to find out: I'm going to pay a little visit to Zanderson himself."

Tickler frowned doubtfully. "Do you think you should?"

"Do I not? It is time he remembered who his keepers were.

Yes, I'll go and remind him myself. And I'll find out whether Reston is on that ship-as I'm sure he is."

Hocking stopped and leered at his associates. "Then we shall plan a little surprise for Spencer… to celebrate a successful journey. When he lands on Mars we'll be ready for him."

… SPENCE BOARDED THE LANDING pod with Packer and a half-dozen of his third-year men. He swung weightless into one of the seats lining the bulkhead and strapped himself in, pulling the safety webbing over him and fastening it tightly all around. He stared down at the magnificent red-gold sphere of Mars filling the port below him-so large had it grown in the last few days that no more than a slice of its curve could be seen.

The pod was strangely silent; the cadets, ordinarily brimming with dash and bravado, seemed veiled in their own thoughts. Every face wore a look of rapt wonder. Spence suspected that he himself appeared as goggle-eyed as the rest of them.

Olmstead Packer swam into the center of the pod and called his group to attention. "Hear ye, hear ye!" he said, wheeling slowly through the air. "We will wait until everyone is suited up before popping the hatch. I want to check each suit myself before you step out on the surface. I've got a yellow sticker to put on each helmet that lets me know I've checked you out. Anyone who fails to get his suit checked won't get another chance to play outside. Understood?"

The shaggy red head turned to regard Spence and Adjani as well. "That goes for you, too, gentlemen. Same as for all first – timers."

Just then a rattling shudder passed through the pod followed by a low-pitched vibration which built to a muffled roar and died away almost before it began.

"That'll be one of the other pods going down now," said Packer as he dived for his seat. "Happy landing, gentlemen!"

All braced themselves for the blast that would send them streaking toward the surface of the Red Planet. They heard the thrum of the engine and then a whoosh as if gale force winds had passed over them. In the same instant they felt themselves pressed gently back into the jumpseat cushions as the illusion of weight returned.

To Spence it seemed as if they fell like a rock dropped from a mountain peak. The burnt orange of the Martian landscape spun crazily as the pod descended, looming larger and eve,, larger in the port until individual landmarks could be discerned They fell alarmingly close to the surface, considered Spence* before he remembered that Mars' atmosphere was very thin an did not extend far out into space. Still, it seemed as if they would smash down upon the red rocks rushing up at them. At the last minute the pod turned itself around and the engines sent forth a staccato burst to slow their descent.