of the fleet.

A lean, gray, vice-admiral fell into step beside Bors.

"You don't think things are hopeless, Captain?" he asked curiously. "I
don't see the shred of a chance for us. But my whole life's been in the
fleet. Under Mekin I'd be drafted to work in a factory or serve as an
under-officer on a guard-ship, one or the other! I'd rather end in a
good fight. How can you have hope?"

Bors said grimly, "I'm not sure that I have. But I can't believe that
nations can be saved by reasonable, practical men. They aren't made by
them! I've no hope except that acting foolishly may be wisdom. Sometimes
it is."

"Ha!" The vice-admiral grinned wryly. "But fortunes are made by
businessmen, and only history by heroes. No sensible man is ever a hero.
But, like you, I don't like practical men."

They went out-of-doors. The king climbed sturdily into a ground-car. It
hummed away. There was a sort of ordered confusion, and then other
ground-cars began to stream away from the palace.

Morgan appeared and waved to Bors. He hesitated, and Morgan pointed to
an unofficial vehicle. Inside, Gwenlyn was smiling cheerfully at Bors.
He found himself returning the smile, and allowed himself to be guided
to her. The ground-car rolled swiftly after the others.

"I've a little more Talents, Incorporated information," said Morgan.
"It's written down for you to read when you get to wherever you're
going. It's rather important. Please be sure to read it fairly soon, it
may affect the fight."

"I'm headed for the fleet," said Bors. "Take me there, will you? I
wanted to say something before I left, anyhow."

Morgan waved his hand.

"I can guess," he said blandly. "Deepest gratitude and all that, but the
rush of events blocked any way to arrange a suitable recompense for what
Talents, Incorporated has done."

Bors blinked. "That's the substance of what I meant to say," he
admitted.

"We'll take it up later," Morgan told him. "We'll get in touch with you
after the battle."

"I doubt it," said Bors. "I'm not likely to be around."

Gwenlyn laughed a little.

"What's so amusing?" asked Bors. "I don't mean to strike an attitude,
but I do hate everything Mekin stands for, and I've a chance to throw a
brick at it. The price may be high but throwing the brick is necessary!"

"We," said Gwenlyn, "have Talents, Incorporated information, some of
which is in that letter Father gave you. Our Department for Predicting
Dirty Tricks has been busy