d
with approval, then headed seaward, to follow the route he had
prescribed for his navigators. Somewhere out there, he would undoubtedly
find Buron, poised to strike at any ship which bore the red and gold of
Kondaro.

And when he did find him, he knew, he would have to outline a counter
move which would force immunity to his sea lanes. He considered the
possibilities as he sped over the sea.

* * * * *

Musa sat before the detector, idly watching the vague patterns that grew
and collapsed on the viewscreen. The scanner, Lanko had explained,
picked up ghost images from heated air masses, or from clouds, but it
discriminated against them, refusing to form a definite image unless a
material body came within range. Then, it indicated range and azimuth,
checked the body against the predetermined data, and the selective
magnification circuits cut in.

As Musa watched, a sea bird appeared on the screen, outlined sharply
against the darkness of the sea. The viewscreen tracked it for an
instant, then continued its scan. Another body showed, seeming to come
from under the sea. Musa looked at it curiously, then noticed that the
range marks had tripped on. The screen was holding the object at center.
A slight glow appeared, obscuring visual detail, and more marks showed
in the legend. Musa turned around.

"Banasel," he called, "what's this?"

Banasel was engaged in his usual pastime of tinkering with the
equipment. He looked around, then walked quickly over to the screen, to
make adjustments. The object came into sharp focus, revealing itself as
a man in the robes of Kondaro. Range and azimuth lines became clearly
defined, and a graph showed in the legend space. Banasel glanced down at
the dials.

"Hey, Lanko," he called, "we've got a customer."

"Where?" Lanko came out of the mess compartment.

"About seventy-one, true, and coming in fast. Range, about a hundred
K's." Banasel twisted dials, watching the result on the screen. "Looks
as though our friend's coming in for a conference."

"Screens?"

"Personal body shield. Probably a Morei twelve. Nothing special."

Lanko got into the gunner's chair and punched a button. The sight screen
lit, showing the approaching body clearly. He turned a knob, increasing
magnification.

"All dressed up in his ceremonial robes, too," he laughed. "This kid
could have done well as a clothing designer."

He adjusted a few knobs, examining a meter. The