le; not much. The Science Service has been working on a
new ship for a long time; a ship to travel so much faster than light
that it can go anywhere in the Galaxy and back in a month or so. New
sub-ether drive, new power, new armament, new everything. Only bad thing
about it is that it doesn't work so good yet--it's fuller of "bugs" than
a Venerian's kitchen. It has blown up five times that I know of, and has
killed twenty-nine men. But when they get it licked they'll _have
something!_"

"When, or if?" asked Bradley, pessimistically.

"I said _when!_" snapped Costigan, his voice cutting like a knife. "When
that gang goes after anything they get it, and when they get it it
stays...." He broke off abruptly and his voice lost its edge. "Sorry.
Didn't mean to get high, but I think we'll have help, if we can keep our
heads up a while. And it looks good--these are first-class cages they've
given us. All the comforts of home, even to lookout plates. Let's see
what's going on, shall we?"

After some experimenting with the unfamiliar controls Costigan learned
how to operate the Nevian visiray, and upon the plate they saw the Cone
of Battle hurling itself toward Roger's planetoid. They saw the pirate
fleet rush out to do battle with Triplanetary's massed forces, and with
bated breath they watched every maneuver of that epic battle to its
savagely sacrificial end. And that same battle was being watched, also
with intense interest, by the Nevians.

"It is indeed a blood-thirsty combat," mused Nerado at his observation
plate. "And it is peculiar--or rather, probably only to be expected from
a race of such a low stage of development--that they employ only
ether-borne forces. Warfare seems universal among primitive
types--indeed, it is not so long ago that our own cities, few in number
though they are, ceased fighting each other and combined against the
semi-civilized fishes of the greater deeps."

He fell silent, and for many minutes watched the furious battle between
the two navies of the void. That conflict ended, he watched the
Triplanetary fleet reform its battle cone and rush upon the planetoid.

"Destruction, always destruction," he sighed, adjusting his power
switches. "Since they are bent upon mutual destruction I can see no
purpose in refraining from destroying all of them. We need the iron, and
they are a useless race."

He launched his softening, converting field of dull red energy. Vast as
that field was, it could