f the gentry who are hauling us in will only give us an
opportunity. You know," he added with a fine inconsecutiveness, "I
don't even know your name."

She bubbled with sudden laughter. "Nona--Nona Gail. I was on my way to
Callisto, to meet my father," she explained. "He's an engineer, doing
some construction work for Interspace Products. But now that I've told
you all, what and who may you be?"

He was frank. There was now no need for concealment. "Grant
Pemberton, an unimportant unit of the Interplanetary Secret Service."

"Then you knew that the trip would be dangerous," she challenged.

"Yes."

"Why did you come?"

"It is part of my duties."

There was silence between them. He turned to stare out of the quartz
port-hole again. Jupiter was perceptibly nearer; an enormous, convex
globe that blotted out half the heavens. They were being drawn at a
frightful velocity toward the mysterious pulsating point, now blinding
in its brilliance.

They both saw it simultaneously: a space-suited figure, far out in the
depths of interstellar space, caught up in a sudden flare of orange
illumination. The strange figure seemed to whirl around, straighten
up, and shoot at breakneck speed headlong for Jupiter. Behind it, and
in a direct line with the winking flame in the Great Spot, another
space denizen glowed luridly, startlingly, out of the blackness
beyond, whirled, and shot down the long invisible path.

Nona cried out: "Grant, tell me quickly, what are they; what is
pulling them?"

Even as she spoke, more and more figures were blazoned in that orange
ray, until a long file of beings were catapulting in a single straight
line past the space-ship, outdistancing it until they became faint
specks in the distance.

* * * * *

Pemberton's hand was upon her shoulder, his eyes literally blazing
through the goggles, while his voice shouted in her ears. "Come with
me: We haven't a second to lose."

"But," she gasped, "you haven't told me--"

"No time," he interrupted, and, shoving her in front of him, he rushed
her through corridor after corridor until they came to the air-lock
of the liner.

"If only we have time," he groaned, and cursed himself for a bungling
fool for not having surmised the maneuver earlier.

Just as he had expected, the great lock was open. The ship was as
silent as the grave. There was no air anywhere, only the unutterably
cold airlessness of space. Without pausing