The League planets—a decadent bunch. They couldn’t stand up long to such fear. They’d be ready to surrender to the first warship that came along.

Meanwhile, it was necessary to cut off the Patrol’s access to Gyreion. Wouldn’t take too big a force for an effective occupation; the natives weren’t fighters. Once their fears had been calmed, they would be quite harmless—to Ulugan.

This time, my friend, he thought with a savage glee, this time you’ve finally overreached yourself!

* * *

Wing Alak was getting bored. He didn’t have much to do now but sit in his flagship and read the reports of his scouts and radio monitors. He welcomed the newcomer who had arrived with the last courier ship from home, even if it did mean a struggle.

Jorel Meinz entered the vessel and followed Alak down a long corridor. His nose wrinkled a bit at the many odors that filled it. The crew of the battlewagon all came from terrestroid planets, but they had their characteristic smells and their own styles of cooking; no ventilation system could quite purify the air. But then, he reminded himself, a Terran probably didn’t smell any better to them.

Alak’s cabin was a spacious one, sybaritically furnished. One large viewport showed the eerie hugeness of space, the rest of the room seemed devoted to human comfort just to offset that chilling spectacle. The Patrolman waited till he was alone with his guest before pouring out drinks.

“Scotch,” he said. “It may not mean much to you, but out here it’s a real luxury.”

“The Patrol seems to do itself well,” observed Meinz.

“Quite,” nodded Alak. “When you’re out for months or years at a time, surrounded by total alienness, every comfort means a lot. It’s pure superstition that the being with a low standard of living is hardier.” He lifted his glass and sipped appreciatively.

“Are you sure you won’t be found out here?” asked Meinz. “I imagine the enemy is ripping holes in space, hunting for you.”

Alak grinned, which made him more than ever resemble a fox. “No doubt they are,” he said. “The harder they search, the better I like it, since it means a useless waste of their time, men, and matériel. Several thousand cubic light-years makes a pretty effective concealment. Anyway, if by some freak they should blunder across us, we need only run for it.”

Meinz scowled. “That’s what I’m here about,” he said brusquely.

“Aren’t they satisfied at home with my conduct of the operation?”

“Frankly, no. Now I’m on your side, Alak. I was the one who pushed that approval through Parliament. But that was almost a year ago, and so far you’ve reported no results at all. Your dispatches have been so much meaningless verbiage, Finally certain political groups hired an investigating force of their own. They sent out observers—”

“A wonder they weren’t nabbed, Hurulta has an efficient Intelligence Service and Secret Police.”

“Well, they weren’t. They saw enough to send them hightailing back home, and the stink it’s raised on Terra—”