e we get out of
it, if I don't route myself back to the Red Spark, I'm a motor-oiler."

I agreed with him. We had a mental picture of Anita and Venza in the
Red Spark's public room. Doubtless Orentino had created a way for them
to meet Molo. They would sit there in the Red Spark with that drinking
party, and in less than an hour we would be back.

But as we crossed diagonally across an end of the main room with Foley
leading us, we caught a glimpse of Molo's table. The party was still
there, but Molo, Anita, and Venza were gone!

We had no time to get any information. Foley abruptly left us and
another man took his place. In the service room a passenger cylinder
was waiting. Our guide entered it with us.

At the switch station we had the breath knocked out of us. After
another ten minutes in the vacuum tube, we reached our unknown
destination. The cylinder-slide opened. We found ourselves with a lone
guard; and through a gloomy arcade opening, Johnny Grantline was
advancing, to greet us.

"Well, so here you are, Gregg. Hell to pay heaven, going on here. Come
on in; I'll tell you."

"We were sent for," Snap said.

"Yes, but they don't want you yet. Come in here."

He waved away the guard and led us through a padded arcade into a
low-vaulted audience room, windowless and gloomy. Across it, a doorway
panel stood ajar. Grantline peered through it. There was the glow of
light from the adjoining room and the distant murmur of many voices.

Grantline closed the door. "Sit down and I'll tell you...."

"Where are we?" I asked.

"The ninth Conclave Hall."

I knew its location: Lower Manhattan, high under the city roof.

Grantline produced little cigarette cylinders. "Steady your nerves,
lads; you'll need it."

He grinned at us. The hand with which he lighted my cylinder was
steady as a tower-base, but he was excited. I could see it by the
glint in his eyes, and hear it in his voice.

"What's going on?" Snap demanded.

"It's about this invading planet. By the gods, when you hear what's
really been learned about it!"

"Well, what?" I asked.

He sketched what he had heard this night at the conclave. The
mysterious invader was inhabited.

"How do they know that?" Snap put in.

"Wait. I'll tell you the rest of it. The accursed thing changes its
orbit. It banks and turns like a spaceship! It stopped out in space;
it's poised out there now between Mars and Jupiter. A world about a
fifth the size of the Moon, a