l's sun. He drew in a deep breath,
watching the swirl of white as he exhaled. It was a good world--a world
to build men. It was the world from which a leader should come.

The fleet would be all his within a day. And for a time, it would be
busy at the work of wiping out the nearby aliens. After that--well,
there were other aliens further out toward the last frontiers of
exploration. With care, the fleet could be kept busy for years.

Barth was remembering his histories, and the armies that had been swept
together. In a few years, fighting men began to think of themselves as
a people apart, and loyalty to their birthplace gave way to loyalty to
their leader. Five years should be enough. Then there could be more
than a Federation; there could be the empire among the worlds that had
been his lifelong dream.

But first, there was Earth. He snorted to himself as he reached the
ships of his fleet. Missionaries! Spreading their soft fear through the
universe. In five years, his fleet should be ready for ten times the
power of any single planet--including Earth.

Sra would be the only problem in his way. But that could be met later.
For the moment, the man from Chumkt was useful.

Barth strode up the ramp of his flagship, shouting out to his men as he
went. There was no need of signals. They had been primed and waiting
for days, ready to follow him up.

He dropped to the control seat, staring at the little lights that would
tell him of their progress. "Up ship!" he shouted, and from the metal
halls and caverns of the ship other voices echoed his cry.

The _Wind Dragon_ leaped upwards sharply. Behind, as the red lights
showed, four hundred others charged into the sky and the open space
beyond. Barth sat at the great screen, watching as they drew on
steadily toward the rendezvous, mulling over his plans.

They were three hours out from Kel when he turned the control over to
his lieutenant and went below, where his table was laden with the
smoking cheer of good green meat and ale. With a sigh of contentment,
he threw back his outer robe and prepared to forget everything until he
had dined.

He was humming hoarsely to himself as he cut a piece of the meat and
stuck it on his left shoulder horn, within reach of his teeth. Maybe a
little of the baked fish would blend well--

The emergency drum blasted through the ship as he lifted the knife.
Swearing and tearing at the flesh near his mouth, he leaped up and
forward towar