"The body's not going to be blasted. It's going to reach Cartwright and destroy him."

"Your lab is already constructing a second automaton," Benteley contradicted. "When this one is demolished you'll have the second ready to be named by the Challenge Con­vention."

"If something goes wrong the operator within Pellig will be jerked back here before the body perishes."

"Will you really be hooked into this rig?"

"I'll be hooked in exactly like you."

As Moore moved restlessly towards the exit lock, Benteley asked: "What happens to my real body while I'm over?"

"As soon as you're arced out this stuff goes into action." Moore indicated the machinery that filled the metal chamber. "All this keeps the body functioning: supplies air, tests blood pressure, heart rate, carries off wastes, feeds, supplies water—whatever is needed."

The exit lock slammed. Benteley was alone in the machinery-crammed cubicle.

Benteley caught a glimpse on the screen of the liner and his heart constricted. The ship was getting near the sprawling Indonesian Empire, the largest functioning aggregate of human beings in the nine-planet system.

The screen showed the passengers of the transport pre­paring to land. There was always this moment of tension as a sleek liner set itself down; then the sigh of relief as the reactors clicked off and the landing locks rumbled open.

Keith Pellig and Margaret Lloyd joined the slowly moving crowd that pushed down the ramp to the passenger level. Benteley glanced away from them, to the outline of the Directorate's Batavia buildings. The landing field was linked directly to the main building grounds; the position of Pellig was indicated by a moving spot of colour.

But no spot showed the position of the network of tele­paths.

Wakeman arranged for the C-plus rocket to be brought to the surface from its locker. He poured himself a drink, gulped it hastily and then conferred with Shaeffer. "In half an hour Batavia will be a cul de sac for Pellig."

Shaeffer's hurried response came back to him: "We now have an inferential report on Pellig. He boarded a regular non-stop liner at Bremen. Passage to Java. He's on his way somewhere between here and Europe."

Wakeman hurried to Cartwright's private quarters. Cartwright was listlessly packing his things with the aid of Rita O'Neill. Rita was pale and tense, but composed. She was going through aud reference tapes with a high-­speed scanner, sorting those worth keeping. A slim, efficient figure with a lucky cat's foot dangling as she worked.

"Keep hold of that," Wakeman said to her, indicating the charm.

Rita glanced up. "Any news?"

"Pellig will be here any minute. Our own ship is almost ready."

Cartwright roused himself. "Look, I don't want to get caught out in space——"

Wakeman was astonished at the words, and at the thoughts he caught behind them. Naked fear had invaded the old man's mind. "The ship is the new experimental C-plus. We'll be there almost instantly. Nobody can stop a C-plus once it's in motion."

Cartwright grunted miserably and began pawing at his heap of shirts. "I'll do what you say, Wakeman. I trust you." He went on clumsily packing, but becoming stronger each moment was an urge to hurry into the reinforced inner office Verrick had constructed and lock himself in. Wake­man deliberately turned his mind from Cartwright's to Rita O'Neill's.

And got a shock. Hatred radiated from the girl's mind directly at him. He was taken aback by its suddenness; it hadn't been there a moment before.

Rita saw the expression on his face, and changed her thoughts. Quick, canny, she had sensed his awareness; now she was thinking of the aud tape humming in her ears as she operated the scanner.

"What is wrong?" he barked at her. "What's wrong?"

Rita said nothing, but her lips pressed together until they were white. Abruptly she turned and hurried from the room.

"I can tell you," Cartwright said hoarsely as he slammed at his battered suitcases. "She blames you for this."

"For what?"

Cartwright picked up his cases and moved slowly towards the door. "I'm her uncle and she's always seen me in authority. Now I'm mixed up in something I don't under­stand and I can't control. I have to rely on you." He moved aside to let Wakeman open the door. "I suppose I've changed, since I came here. She's disappointed, and she blames you."

The C-plus ship was up-ended on the emergency platform in the centre of the main building. As soon as Cartwright, his niece and the group of Corpsmen had entered the hull locks slid smoothly into place. The roof of the building rolled back and the bright noon sky blazed down.

Wakeman fastened Rita's belt and then his own. She said nothing to him but her hostility had melted a little. "We may black-out during the flight. The ship is robot-operated." Wakeman settled down in his seat. Sensitive machinery moved and high-powered reactors screamed shrilly into life. He relaxed and drank in the sleek purr of the drive as it warmed. It was a beautiful ship; the first actually made from the original model and designs.

"You know how I feel," Rita O'Neill said to him abruptly. "You were scanning me."

"I know how you felt. I don't think you still feel that way."

"It's irrational to blame you. You're doing your job the best you can."

"I'm doing the right thing." He waited a moment. "Well? The ship's ready to take off."

Cartwright managed to nod. "I'm ready."

Wakeman considered briefly. "Any sign?" he thought to Shaeffer.

"Another passenger transport coming in," the rapid thought came back. "Entering scanning range any moment."

Pellig would arrive at Batavia; that was certain. He would search for Cartwright; that was also certain. The unknown was Pellig's detection and death. It could be assumed that if he escaped the telepath net he would locate the Lunar site. And if he located that... .

"There's no protection on Luna," Wakeman thought to Shaeffer. "We're giving up all positive defence once we take Cartwright there."

Shaeffer agreed. "But I think we'll get Pellig here at Batavia."

"We'll take the chance." Wakeman gave the signal and the ship moved. First the regular turbine thrust, then the furious lash of energy as the C-plus drive swung into life, sparked by the routine release of power. For a moment the ship hovered over the Directorate buildings, glowing and shimmering. Then the drive caught, and in an instant the ship hurtled from the surface in a flash of blinding speed that rolled black waves of unconsciousness over the people within.

As the darkness engulfed Peter Wakeman a vague satisfaction drifted through his dwindling mind. Keith Pellig would find nothing at Batavia. Nothing but his own death. The Corps's strategy was working out.

At the moment Wakeman's signal sent the glowing C-plus ship away from Batavia the regular liner rumbled to a slow halt at the space field and slid back its locks.

Keith Pellig walked eagerly down the metal ramp and into the sunlight, blinking and peering excitedly at his first view of the Directorate buildings.