the apex of
this stupendous formation; behind, and protected by, the full power
of the other floating citadels of the forty-nine groups of seven.
Due north, the amazing armada sped in rigorous alignment, flying along
a predetermined meridian--due north!

At the end of his watch Kromodeor relinquished his board to the officer
relieving him and shot into the air, propelled by the straightening of
the powerful coils of his snake-like body and tail. Wings half spread,
lateral and vertical ruddering fins outthrust, he soared across the room
toward a low opening. Just before they struck the wall upon either side
of the doorway the great wings snapped shut, the fins retracted, and the
long and heavy body struck the floor of the passage without a jar. With
a wriggling, serpentine motion he sped like a vibrant arrow along the
hall and into a wardroom. There, after a brief glance around the room,
he coiled up beside a fellow officer who, with one eye, was negligently
reading a scroll held in three or four hands; while with another eye,
poised upon its slender pedicle, he watched a moving picture upon a
television screen.

"Hello, Kromodeor," Wixill, Chief Power Officer[2] greeted the newcomer
in the wailing, hissing language of the Vorkuls. He tossed the scroll
into the air, where it instantly rolled into a tight cylinder and shot
into an opening in the wall of the room. "Glad to see you. Books and
shows are all right on practice cruises, but I can't seem to work up
much enthusiasm about such things now."

[Footnote 2: In order to avoid all unnecessary strain upon the memory of
the reader, all titles, etc., have been given in the closest possible
English equivalent, instead of in an attempted transliteration of the
foreign word. This particular officer has no counterpart upon Tellurian
vessels. He is the second in command of a Vorkulian fortress, his
function being to supervise all expenditure of power.--E. E. S.]

Kromodeor elevated an eye and studied the screen, upon which, to the
accompaniment of whistling, shrieking sound, whirled and gyrated an
interlacing group of serpentine forms.

"A good show, Wixill," the projector officer replied, "but nothing to
hold the attention of men engaged in what we are doing. Think of it!
After twenty years of preparation--two long lifetimes--and for the first
time in our history, we are actually going to war!"

"I have thought of it at length. It is disgusting. Compelled to traffic
wi