It was the middle of the following day before they emerged from the gloomy haze into the vast, clear vault of star-gemmed space. At once, the phantom-cruiser picked up still greater speed.

Gordon and Lianna looked from the window at the brilliant galactic spectacle ahead. To their astonishment, the distant spark of Canopus lay out of sight far on their left. Ahead of the Dendra glittered a vault of strange stars in which Orion Nebula glowed in flaming glory.

“We're not heading straight back into the Empire,” Lianna said. “They're going to avoid the most guarded Empire frontier by swinging up west of Orion Nebula and on past the Marches of Outer Space to curve in toward Sol.”

“Going the long way around to sneak into the Empire by the back way!” Gordon muttered. “It's probably the way that Cloud ship came that tried to kidnap me from Earth.”

His faint hopes sank. “There's less chance of an Empire patrol catching us, if we're going through a little-traveled region.”

Lianna nodded. “We are not likely to meet more than a few patrol cruisers, and Durk Undis can slip past them under dark-out.”

Discouragedly, Gordon stared out at the brilliant scene. His gaze shifted to the direction in which he knew Canopus must lie.

Lianna caught the direction of his gaze and looked up at him questioningly. “You are thinking of Murn?”

It startled Gordon. He had almost forgotten the dark, lovely woman whom the real Zarth Arn loved.

“Murn? No! I was thinking of that black traitor Corbulo, spinning his plots back there on Throon and just waiting his chance to murder Jhal Arn and wreck the Empire's defenses.”

“That is the greatest danger,” Lianna agreed soberly. “If they could only be warned of Corbulo's treachery, the League's plan of attack could still be foiled.”

“And we're the only ones who can warn them,” Gordon muttered.

Yet on the third day after this, he had to confess to himself that it seemed more than ever an impossibility.

The Dendra was by now well inside the boundaries of the Empire, beating northward on a course that would take it just west of the gigantic, glowing Orion Nebula.

Once beyond the great Nebula, they would fly northwestward along the little traveled edges of the Marches of Outer Space. Few Empire warships would be in the region bordering that wild frontier of unexplored star-systems. And Sol and its planet Earth would be nearby, then.

Twice during these three days, an alarm bell had rung through the Dendra as its radar operators detected Empire warships nearby. Each time, in their cabins, Gordon and Lianna had seen the whole vault of space outside the window suddenly blacked out.

Gordon had said in astonishment when it first happened, “What's wrong? All space has gone dark!”

Lianna looked at him in surprise. “They've turned on the dark-out of our ship. You surely remember that when a phantom-cruiser runs dark, those inside it can see nothing of outside space?”

“Oh, of course,” Gordon said hastily. “It's been so long since I've been in one of these craft that I'd forgotten.”

He understood now what was happening. The new, loud whine that permeated the cruiser was the sound of the dark-out generators that were flinging an aura of potent force around the ship.

That aura slightly refracted every ray of light or radar beam that struck it, so that the phantom-cruiser could neither be seen or ranged by radar. Of necessity, that deflection of all outside light left the cruiser moving in utter darkness.

Gordon heard the dark-out generators down in the lower deck whining for nearly an hour. They apparently required almost all the power of the ship, the drive-machinery merely purring and the ship moving almost on inertia.

The thing happened again the following morning, when the Dendra was drawing up closer to the west borders of Orion Nebula. That glowing mass now stretched billions of miles across the firmament beside them.

Gordon saw many hot stars inside the Nebula. He recalled that it was their electron-barrage that excited the hazy dust of the Nebula to its brilliant glow.

That “evening,” he and Lianna were walking in the long corridor under the close scrutiny of an armed Cloudman when the alarm bell again rang sharp warning through the ship.

The Cloudman instantly stepped forward. “Dark-out. Return to your cabins immediately.”

Gordon had hoped for a chance like this and resolved to seize it. They might never have another.

As the familiar whine of the dark-out came on, as he and Lianna moved toward their cabins, he leaned to whisper to her.

“Act faint and collapse just as we enter the cabin!”

Lianna gave not a sign of hearing him, except that her fingers quickly pressed his hand.

The Cloud-officer was a half-dozen paces behind them, his hand resting on the butt of his atom-pistol.

Lianna, at the door of the cabin, tottered weakly and pressed her heart.

“Zarth, I feel ill!” she whispered huskily, then began to sag to the floor.

Gordon caught her, held her. “She's fainted. I knew this confinement would be too much for her.”

He turned angrily toward the startled Cloudman. “Help me get her into the cabin,” Gordon snapped.

The officer was anxious to get them out of the corridor. His orders had been that they were immediately to be re-confined whenever a dark-out began.

Zeal to obey his orders betrayed him. The Cloudman stepped forward and stooped to help pick up Lianna and carry her inside.

As he did so, Gordon acted! He callously let Lianna fall to the floor, and snatched at the butt of the Cloudman's atom-gun.

So swift was his movement that he had the gun out of its holster before the other realized it. The Cloudman began to straighten and his mouth opened to yell an alarm.

Gordon smashed the barrel of the heavy atom-pistol against the man's temple below his helmet. The officer's face relaxed blankly, and he slumped like a bag of rags.

“Quick, Lianna!” sweated Gordon. “Into the cabin with him.”

Lianna was already on her feet. In an instant, they had dragged the limp form into the little room and shut the door.

Gordon stooped over the man. The skull was shattered.

“Dead,” he said swiftly. “Lianna, this is my chance.”

He was beginning to strip off the dead man's jacket. She flew to his side. “Zarth, what are you going to do?”

“There must be at least one Empire patrol cruiser nearby,” Gordon rasped. “If I can sabotage the Dendya's dark-out equipment, the patrol will spot us and capture this ship.”

“More likely they'll blow it to fragments!” Lianna warned.

His eyes held hers. “I know that, too. But I'm willing to take the chance if you are.”

Her gray eyes flashed. “I'm willing, Zarth. The future of the whole galaxy hangs in the balance.”

“You stay here,” he ordered. “I'll put on this fellow's uniform and helmet and it may give me a little better chance.”

In a few minutes, Gordon had struggled into the dead man's black uniform. He jammed on the helmet, then bolstered the atom-gun and slid out into the corridor.

The dark-out was still on, the Dendra cautiously groping its way through self-induced blackness. Gordon started aft.

He had already, during these past days, located the sound of the dark-out generators as coming from aft on the lower deck. He hastened in the direction of that loud whine.

There was no one in the corridor. During dark-out, every man and officer was at action stations.

Gordon reached the end of the corridor. He hurried down a narrow companionway to the lower deck. Here doors were open, and he glanced into the big drive-generator rooms. Officers stood at flight-panels, men watched the gauges of the big, purring energy-drive.

An officer glanced up surprisedly as Gordon quickly passed the door. But his helmet and uniform seemed to reassure the Cloudman.