As long as they were commodores, Clayton of North America and Schweikert of Europe had close to the home for trips. With the of the Galactic Patrol, however, and their Admiral and Lieutenant-Admiral of the First Galactic Region, and their of Lenses, the of their of action was increased. One or the other of them was always to be in Grand Fleet Headquarters at New York Spaceport, but only very were of them there at once. And if the were not to be on Earth, what of it? The First Galactic Region all of the and all of the to Civilization, and the could, as a of and duty, be anywhere.
Usually, however, he was not upon any of the generally-known planets, but upon Bennett—getting with the officers, the of Grand Fleet in new maneuvers, teaching in strategy, and skull-practice generally. It was hard work, and not too inspiring, but in the end it paid off big. They their men; their men them. They work together with a snap, a smoothness, a otherwise impossible; for top brass, unknown to and with the of command, can not have and not the and the respect so necessary to high morale.
Clayton and Schweikert had both. They started early enough, hard enough, and had stuff, to earn both. Thus it came about that when, upon a day, the two came to Bennett together, they were as as though they had been Bennettans and bred; and their welcome a planet-wide when Clayton the orders which all Bennett had been waiting so long and so to hear. Bennettans were at last to Bennett!
Group after group, sub-fleet after sub-fleet, the of the Galactic Patrol's Grand Fleet took off. They assembled in space; they to shake themselves into some of unity; they the new maneuvers; they off in for Sol. And as the the Solar System it met—or, rather, was joined by—the Patrol ships about which Morgan and his already knew; each of which itself into its long-assigned place. Every of Civilization had sent its every of out a screen or of a beam, but so was the number of in Grand Fleet that this increment, great as it was, no in its size.
On Rally Day Grand Fleet near Earth. As soon as he had Samms to the at the Rally, Roderick Kinnison disappeared. Actually, he a to a of the and left the Earth in a light cruiser, but to all and purposes, so was in what Samms was saying, Kinnison vanished. Samms was already in the Boise; the Port Admiral out to his old flagship, the Chicago. Nor, in case any of the Enemy should be trying to keep of him, his be traced. Cleveland and Northrop and Rularion and all they needed of the of the Patrol saw to that.
Neither Samms Kinnison had any being with Grand Fleet in person, of course, and it; but why they were there and were that the two top Lensmen had to live or die with their Fleet. If Grand Fleet won, they would live; if Grand Fleet they would die—if not in the pyrotechnic of their ships, then in a of days upon the ground. With the Fleet their presence would to morale. It was a very much taking.
Nor were Clayton and Schweikert together, or near each other. Samms, Kinnison, and the two were as away from each other as they and still in Grand Fleet's cylinder.
Cylinder? Yes. The Patrol's Board of Strategy, that the enemy would attack in and that one another only after a long and engagement, had long since months and months at war-games in their tanks, in search of a formation. They had it. Theoretically, a of proper defeat, with and in a very time, the best they were able to devise. The was that the ships a would have to be and in number than any one power had been able to put into the ether. However, with all the of Bennett to construction, this would not be insuperable.
This, of course, up the question of what would if met cylinder—if the Black should also have at the same solution—and this question unanswered. Or, rather, there were too many answers, no two of which agreed; like those to the one of what would if an should an object. There would be a of by-products!
Even Rularion of Jove did not come up with a solution. Nor did Bergenholm; who, although a Lensman-scientist and not a of the Galactic Council, was called into of his ability to arrive at some short-circuiting of thought.
"Well," Port Admiral Kinnison had concluded, finally, "If they've got one, too, we'll just have to ours up, it out, and pray."
"Clayton to Port Admiral Kinnison," came a through channels. "Have you any additional orders or instructions?"
"Kinnison to Admiral Clayton. None," the Port Admiral replied, as formally, then on Lens: "No or to make, Alex. You have done a job so and you'll keep on doing one. How much have you got out?"
"Twelve detets—three of diesels. If we here and do nothing the boys will and go stale, so if you and Virge agree we'll give 'em some practice. Lord they need it, and it'll keep 'em on their toes. But about the Blacks—they may be on any action until we've had time to from boredom. What's your idea on that?"
"I've been about the same thing. Practice will help, but or not I don't know. What do you think, Virge? Will they it up or fast?"
"Fast," the First Lensman replied, and definitely. "As soon as they possibly can, for reasons. They don't know our strength, any more than we know theirs. They believe, however, the same as we do, that they are more than we are and have the larger force. By their own need of they will know ours. They do not nearly as much to as we do; by the very nature of their they can't. Also, our open challenge will very definitely to their hands, since face-saving is more to them than it is to us. They will as soon as they can and as hard as they can."
Grand Fleet were begun, but in a day or so the came in. The enemy had been detected; in, as the previous Black Fleet had come, from the direction of Coma Berenices. Calculating and whirred; orders were flashed, and a of numbers; ships by the hundreds and the thousands into their positions.
Or, more precisely, almost into them. Most of the and had not had yet to their positions on the try, since a in direction was involved, but they did well; a minutes of and were enough. Clayton and Schweikert used a little language—via Lens and to their Lensmen only, of course—but Samms and Kinnison were well pleased. The time of had been very and the was smooth, symmetrical, and of density.
The was a cone, not a cylinder. It was not a Cone of Battle in that it was not of composition, was too big, and had too many ships for its size. It was, however, of the shape, and it was that by the time the enemy any it would be too late for him to do anything about it. The would be about that time, anyway, and it was almost believed—at least it was hoped—that the enemy would not have the time or the knowledge or the to do anything about that, either.
Kinnison to himself as his mind, en with Clayton's, the enemy's Cone of Battle upon the Admiral's plate. It was big, and powerful; the Galactic Patrol's publicly-known would have the of the in the regions. It was not, however, the Port Admiral thought, big to an cylinder, or to the Patrol's in any fashion—and unless they the next second or two it would be too late for the enemy to do anything at all.
As though by magic about ninety-five of the Patrol's into a tightly-packed cylinder. This was much than the previous one, and had been to perfection. The mouth of the closed in and lengthened; the closed end opened out and shortened. Tractors and pressors from ship to ship, the whole of into a single as solid, as to size, as a bridge. And of quiescent, waiting to be attacked, the forward, inertialess, at maximum blast.
Throughout the years the violence, intensity, and power of had steadily. Defensive had step. One fact, however, had not the and has not yet. Three or more of power have always been able to one unit of the same power, if be and no be given; and two always do so. Fundamentally, therefore, strategy always has been and still is the of new and by of which two or more of our may attack one of theirs; the while the minimum of opportunity for them to in kind.
The Patrol's Grand Fleet forward, almost along the of the Black cone; right where the enemy wanted it—or so he thought. Straight into the mouth, now a blast of which the of Inferno must into insignificance; along that toward the apex, at the speed of the two directly of flight. But, to the complete of the Black High Command, nothing much happened. For, as has been pointed out, that was not of normal composition. In fact, there was not a normal war-vessel in it. The skin and ends of the were purely defensive. Those vessels, packed so closely that their actually touched, were all screen; none of them had a to light a match. Conversely, the layer, or "Liner", was of that were all offense. They had to be protected at every point—but how they it out!
The leading and of the formation—the ends of the pipe, so to speak—would of the of the Black attack, and it was this that had the Patrol's the most concern. Wherefore the ten and the last six of ships were special indeed. They were all screen—nothing else. They were drones, by control, no thing. If the Patrol be to eight of ships at the pass and four at the second—theoretical of six and two—Samms and his would be well content.
All of the Patrol ships had, of course, the of so-called "violet", "green", and "red" fields, as well as and ordinary bombs, and transporters, slicers, polycyclic drills, and so on; but in this the was to be upon the sheer, brutal, power of what had been called the "macro beam"—now the "beam". Furthermore, in the of the of action—the was to attack the at its very part—no material have a single after the screens of of its parent vessel. It have fast enough; ultra-beam have it and enough; but it have a foot, at ultra-light speed, it would have to be. It would have been into its sub-atomic and waves. Nothing material exist, instantaneously, in the of the of the Black's Cone of Battle; a which the exact center of a multi-billion-volt of would a area.
That field, however, no material object. The Patrol's "screeners", packed so closely as to have a four hundred overlap, had been designed to that environment. Practically all of them it. And in a of a second the end of the engulfed, pipe-wise, the entire of the enemy's war-cone, and the "sluggers" of the cylinder's to work.
Each of those had one pressor beam, each having the same push as every other, inward, toward the cylinder's axis, and at an of fifteen from the line ship and axis. Therefore, any Black ship entered the Patrol's or however, it was to and at the and along that axis. None of them, however, got very far. They were in single file; one ship at least one solid ring of who did not have to themselves with defense, but every of their into beams. Thus the were not two or three to one; but less than eighty, and very over two hundred to one.
Under the impact of those of the screens of the once, through the spectrum, and down. Whether they had two or three or four no difference—in fact, the ultra-speed of the not tell. Then, a of later, the wall-shields—the of by man up to that time—also failed. Then those of bare, metal, and every molecule, and organic, of ships and alike, in a of energy so and so as to those who had it into existence. It was more than a volatilization; it was later that the of the Black's own bombs, in the already in the Patrol's quasi-solid beams, had a which had resulted in the of a of the of elements!
The stopped; the Lensmen took stock. The of of the leading had almost six of drones. In places the ring was still intact; in others, which had beaming, the seventh was gone. Also, a of one of the war-vessels had disappeared. Brief though the time of had been, the enemy had been able to to a through the of the cylinder.
It had not been that more than a hundreds of Black be out of the at this pass. General Staff had been sure, however, that the and most ships, those the enemy's High Command, would be among them. The mid-section of the of the Cone of Battle had always been the place to be; therefore that was where the Black had been and therefore they no longer lived.
In a it clear that if any Black High Command existed, it was not in shape to efficiently. Some of the enemy ships were still blasting, with little or no effort, at the which the had left behind; a were attempting to into some of a formation, possibly to attack the Patrol's cylinder. Indecision was visible and rampant.
To turn that engine of around would have been a of hours, but it was not necessary. Instead, each cut its and pressors, end for end, reconnected, and almost its previous course; out and into another "plug" of Black warships. Another reversal, another dash; and this time, so were the and so the beaming, not a single Patrol was lost. The Black fleet, so proud and so of a minutes before, had apart.
"That's enough, Rod, don't you think?" Samms then. "Please order Clayton to action, so that we can a with their senior officers."
"Parley, hell!" Kinnison's was a snarl. "We've got 'em going—mop 'em up they can themselves together! Parley be damned!"
"Beyond a point action butchery, of which our Galactic Patrol will be guilty. That point has now been reached. If you do not agree with me, I'll be to call a Council meeting to decide which of us is right."
"That isn't necessary. You're right—that's one I'm not First Lensman." The Port Admiral, and fire from his mind, orders; the Patrol in space. "As President of the Galactic Council, Virge, take over."
Spy-rays and searched; a was sent. Virgil Samms spoke aloud, in the of space.
"Connect me, please, with the senior officer of your fleet."
There appeared upon Samms' plate a strong, not face; deep-stamped with the of a man death.
"You've got us. Come on and us."
"Some such was to be expected, but I no trouble in you that you have been in you have been told us; our aims, our ethics, our morals, and our of conduct. There are, I assume, other officers of your rank, although of seniority?"
"There are ten other vice-admirals, but I am in command. They will my orders or die."
"Nevertheless, they shall be heard. Please go inert, match our velocity, and come aboard, all eleven of you. We wish to with all of you the possibilities of a peace our worlds."
"Peace? Bah! Why lie?" The Black commander's did not change. "I know what you are and what you do to races. We a clean, quick death in your to the you out in your rooms and laboratories. Come ahead—I to attack you as soon as I can make a formation."
"I repeat, you have been grossly, terribly, misinformed." Samms' voice was and steady; his those of the other. "We are men, not or savages. Does not the that we so soon anything to you?"
For the time the stranger's subtly, and Samms pressed the advantage.
"I see it does. Now if you will with me mind to mind...." The First Lensman for the man's and to to it, but this was too much.
"I will not!" The Black put up a solid block. "I will have nothing to do with your Lens. I know what it is and will have none of it!"
"Oh, what's the use, Virge!" Kinnison snapped. "Let's on with it!"
"A great of use, Rod," Samms replied, quietly. "This is a turning-point. I must be right—I can't be that wrong," and he again his attention to the enemy commander.
"Very well, sir, we will continue to use spoken language. I repeat, come with your ten vice-admirals. You will not be asked to surrender. You will your side-arms—as long as you make no attempt to use them. Whether or not we come to any agreement, you will be allowed to return to your the is resumed."
"What? Side-arms? Returned? You it?"
"As President of the Galactic Council, in the presence of the officers of the Galactic Patrol as witnesses, I it."
"We will come aboard."
"Very well. I will have ten other Lensmen and officers here with me."
The Boise, of course, first; by the Chicago and nine of the tear-drops from Bennett. Port Admiral Kinnison and nine other Lensmen joined Samms in the Boise's room; the tight of eleven Patrol ships in in the space-courtesy of meeting the tight of Black half-way in the of velocity.
Soon the two little sub-fleets were in respect to each other. Eleven Black were launched. Eleven Black vice-admirals came aboard, to the of the full to visiting of powers. Each was with what to be an exact of the Patrol's own blaster; Lewiston, Mark Seventeen. In the lead the tall, heavy, gray-haired man with Samms had been dealing; still defiant, still sullen, still his desperation. His was still on, full strength.
The man next in line was much than the leader, much less up, much more intent. Samms for this man's ego, to it, and got the of his life. This Black vice-admiral's mind was not at all what he had to encounter—it was, in every respect, of Lensman grade!
"Oh ... how? You are not speaking, and ... I see ... the Lens ... THE LENS!" The stranger's mind was for an in which relief, gladness, and high for supremacy.
In the next seconds, the visitors had their places at the table, Virgil Samms and Corander of Petrine which would many thousands of to express; only a of which are necessary here.
"The LENS ... I have of such a thing, without of or possibility. How we have been misled! They are, then, actually available upon your world, Samms of Tellus?"
"Not exactly, and not at all generally," and Samms as he had so many times before. "You will wear one sooner than you think. But as to this warfare. You are all of your own world. Petrine?"
"Not 'practically', we are Petrinos all. The 'teachers' were all in the Center. Many upon Petrine and its worlds, but none alive here."
"Ohlanser, then, who command, is also a Petrino? So hard-headed, I had otherwise. He will be a stumbling-block. Is he actually in command?"
"Only by and with our consent, under such as these. He is a reactionary, of the old, die-hard, war-dog school. He would be in and would be supported by the teachers if any were here; but I will challenge his authority and theirs; upon my right to my own as I see fit. So will, I think, others. So go ahead with your meeting."
"Be seated, Gentlemen." All punctiliously and sat down. "Now, Vice-Admiral Ohlanser...."
"How do you, a stranger, know my name?"
"I know many things. We have a to offer which, if you Petrinos will it, will end this warfare. First, that we have no designs upon your planet, any with any of its people who are not by the ideas and the of the who are of this whole movement; possibly those you to as the 'teachers'. You did not know you were to fight, or why." This was a statement, with no hint of question about it.
"I see now that we did not know all the truth," Ohlanser admitted, stiffly. "We were informed, and proof to make us believe, that you were from space—rapacious, insatiable, and to all other of life."
"We something of the kind. Do you others agree? Vice-Admiral Corander?"
"Yes. We were and proofs; of battles, in which no was given. We saw after conquered, world after world waste. We were to that our only of was to meet you and you in space; for if you were allowed to Petrine every man, woman, and child on the would either be killed or to death. I see now that those proofs were false; vicious."
"They were. Those who spread that and all who support their organization must be and shall be out. Petrine must be and shall be her place in the of free, independent, and worlds. So must any and all wish to to Civilization of to and despotism. To these ends, we Lensmen that you re-form your and to Arisia...."
"Arisia!" Ohlanser did not like the idea.
"Arisia," Samms insisted. "Upon Arisia, more than you do now, you will return to your home planet, where you will take steps you will then know to be necessary."
"We were told that your Lenses are devices," Ohlanser sneered, "designed to away and the minds of any who to you. I that, fully. I will not go to Arisia, will any part of Petrine's Grand Fleet. I will not attack my home planet. I will not do against my own people. This is final."
"I am not saying or that you should. But you continue to close your mind to reason. How about you, Vice-Admiral Corander? And you others?"
In the Samms put himself en with the other officers, and was at what he learned.
"I do not agree with Vice-Admiral Ohlanser," Corander said, flatly. "He commands, not Grand Fleet, but his sub-fleet merely, as do we all. I will lead my sub-fleet to Arisia."
"Traitor!" Ohlanser shouted. He to his and his blaster, but a it from his he fire.
"You were allowed to wear side-arms, not to use them," Samms said, quietly. "How many of you others agree with Corander; how many with Ohlanser?"
All nine voted with the man.
"Very well. Ohlanser, you may either accept Corander's or this meeting now and take your sub-fleet directly to Petrine. Decide now which you to do."
"You you aren't going to kill me, now? Or me, or put me under arrest?"
"I that. What is your decision?"
"In that case ... I was—must have been—wrong. I will Corander."
"A wise choice. Corander, you already know what to expect; that four or five other Petrinos now in this room will help you, not only in what must be done upon Petrine, but also in the doing of it. This meeting will adjourn."
"But ... no reprisals?" Corander, in of his newly knowledge, was dubious, almost dumbfounded. "No or occupation? No to your Patrol, or reparations? No of us, our men, or our families?"
"None."
"That not square up with ordinary usage."
"I know it. It conform, however, to the policy of the Galactic Patrol which is to spread our universe."
"You are not sending your fleet, or of it, with us, to see to it that we your instructions?"
"It is not necessary. If you need any of help you will us of your Lens, as I am with you now, and you want will be supplied. However, I do not any such call. You and your are of the situation. You will soon know the truth, and know that you know it; and when your house-cleaning is done we will your for upon the Galactic Council. Good-bye."
Thus the Lensmen—particularly First Lensman Virgil Samms—brought another of the under the of Civilization.
