Seaton’s projection appeared in the Observer’s office and, after being introduced, handed thought-helmets to Madlyn and Charley. “Put these on, please, and go over the whole thing again, in as fine detail as you possibly can. It’s not that we doubt any of your statements; it’s just that we want to record and to study very carefully all the side-bands of thought that can be made to appear.”

The two went over their stories again; this time being interrupted, every other second or two, by either Seaton or the Observer with sharply pertinent questions or suggestions.

When, finally, both had been wrung completely dry, the Observer took off his helmet and said:

“Although much of this material is not for public dissemination, I will tell you enough to relieve your minds of stress; especially since you have already seen some of it and I know that neither of you will talk.” Being a very young Norlaminian, just graduated from the Country of Youth, he smiled at this, and the two smiled — somewhat wryly — back.

“Wait a minute,” Seaton said. “I’m not sure we want their minds relieved of too much stress. They both ring bells — loud ones. I’d swear I know you both from somewhere, except I know darn well I’ve never met either of you before… it’s a cinch nobody could ever forget meeting Madlyn Mannis…” He paused, then snapped a finger sharply.

“Idiot! Of course! Where were you, both of you, at hours twenty-three fifty-nine on the eighteenth?”

“Huh? What is this, a gag?” van der Gleiss demanded.

“Anything else but, believe me,” Seaton assured him. “Madlyn?”

“One minute of midnight? That would be the finale of my first show… Oh-oh! Was the eighteenth a Friday?”

“Yes.”

“That’s it!” The girl was visibly excited now. “Something did happen. Don’t ask me what — all I know is I was just finishing my routine, and I got this feeling — this feeling of importance about something. Why, you were in it!” She stared at Seaton’s projection incredulously. “Yes! But — you were different somehow. I don’t know how. Like a — like a reflection of you, or a bad photograph…”

Through his headset Seaton thought a quick, private three-way conference with Rovol and the Norlaminian on Earth:

“—clearly refers to our beacon message—”

“— yes, but holy cats, Rovol, what’s this about a ‘reflection’?—”

“—conceivably some sort of triggered response from another race—”

It took less than a second, then Seaton continued with the girl and her companion, who were unaware that any interchange had taken place.

“The ‘something important’ you’re talking about, Madlyn, was a message that we broadcast. You might call it an SOS; we were looking for a response from some other race or civilization with a little more on the ball than we have. We’ve been hoping for an answer; it’s just possible that, through you, we’ve got one. What was that ‘reflection’ like?”

“I’d call it a psychic pull,” said Madlyn promptly. “And now that you mention it, I felt it with these Jelmi too. And—” Her eyes widened, and she turned to stare at Charley.

Seaton snapped his fingers. “Look, Madlyn. Can you take time off to spend with us? I don’t know what you’ve got into — but I want you nearby if you get into it again!”

“Why, certainly, Mr. Seaton. I mean — Doctor Seaton. I’ll call Moe — that’s my agent — and cancel Vegas, and—”

“Thanks,” grinned Seaton. “You won’t lose anything by it.”

“I’m sure I won’t, judging by… but oh, yes, how about those diamonds — if they are?”

“Oh, they are,” the Norlaminian assured her, “and they’re of course yours. Would you like to have me sell them for you?”

She glanced questioningly at van der Gleiss, who nodded and gave the jewels to the Observer. Then, “We’d like that very much, sir,” Madlyn said, “and thanks a lot.”

“Okay,” Seaton said then. “Now, how about you, Charley. What kind of a jolt did you get at one minute of twelve that Friday night?”

“Well, it was the first time I caught Madlyn’s act, and I admit it’s a sockeroo. She has the wallop of a piledriver, no question of that. But if you mean spirit-message flapdoodle or psychic poppycock, nothing. I’m not psychic myself — not a trace — and nobody can sell me that anybody else is, either. That stuff is purely the bunk — it’s strictly for the birds.”

“It isn’t either, Mister Charles K. van der Gleiss!” Madlyn exclaimed. “And you are too psychic — very strongly so! How else would we be stumbling over each other everywhere we go? And how else would I possibly get drunk with you?” She spread her hands out in appeal to the Observer. “Isn’t he psychic?”

“My opinion is that he is unusually sensitive to certain forces, yes,” the Norlaminian said. “Think carefully, youth. Wasn’t there something more than the mental or esthetic appreciation of, and the physical-sexual thrill at, the work of a superb exotic dancer?”

“Of course there was!” the man snapped. “But… but… oh, I don’t know. Now that Madlyn mentions it, there was a sort of a feeling of a message. But I haven’t got even the foggiest idea of what the goddam thing was!”

“And that,” Seaton said, “is about the best definition of it I’ve ever heard. We haven’t either.”

12. DUQUESNE AND THE JELMI

DUQUESNE, who had not seen enough of the Skylark of Valeron to realize that it was an intergalactic spacecraft, had supposed that Seaton and his party were still aboard Skylark Three, which was of the same size and power as DuQuesne’s own ship, the Capital D. Therefore, when it became clear just what it was with which the Capital D was making rendezvous, to say that DuQuesne was surprised is putting it very mildly indeed.

He had supposed that his vessel was one of the three most powerful superdreadnoughts of space ever built — but this! This thing was not a spaceship at all! In every important respect it was a world. It was big enough to mount and to power offensive and defensive armament of full planetary capability… and if he knew Seaton and Crane half as well as he thought he did, that monstrosity could volatilize a world as easily as it could light a firecracker.

He was second. Again. And such an insignificantly poor second as to he completely out of the competition.

Something would have to be done about this intolerable situation… and finding out what could be done about it would take precedence over everything else until he did find out.

He scowled in thought. That worldlet of a spaceship changed everything — radically. He’d been going to let eager-beaver Seaton grab the ball and run with it while he, DuQuesne, went on about his own business. But now could he take the risk? Ten to one — or a hundred to one? — he couldn’t touch that planetoid’s safety screens with anything he had. But it was worth his while to try…

Energizing the lightest possible fifth- and sixth-order webs, he reached out with his utmost delicacy of touch to feel out the huge globe’s equipment; to find out exactly what it had.

He found out exactly nothing; and in zero time. At the first, almost imperceptible touch of DuQuesne’s web the mighty planetoid’s every defense flared instantaneously into being.

DuQuesne cut his webbing, the defenses vanished, and Seaton said, “No peeking, DuQuesne. Come inside and you can look around all you please, but from outside it can’t be done.”

“I see it can’t. How do I get inside?”

“One of your shuttles or small boats. Go neutral as soon as you clear your outer skin and I’ll bring you in.”

“I’ll do that,” — and as DuQuesne in one of his vessel’s lifeboats traversed the long series of locks through the worldlet’s tremendously thick shell he kept on wrestling with his problem.

No, the idea of letting Seaton be the Big Solo Hero was out like the well-known light.

Seaton and his whole party would have to die. And the sooner the better.