Printed in the United States of America Pyramid Books are published by Pyramid Publications, Inc., 444 Madison Avenue, New York 22, New York, U.S.A. ROCKETS SLAMMED PAST —just missing the tall, gaunt man who dodged down the stairs of the Earth Embassy. A figure loomed in a doorway and he snapped off a quick blaster shot at it—missed. He'd killed one man, wounded others—and was carrying papers stolen from the secret Embassy files. They had to stop him—but they couldn't! —And, worlds away, the men

At the ninety-fifth floor, Westervelt left the public elevator for a private automatic one which he took four floors further. When he stepped out, the dark, lean youth faced an office entrance whose double, transparent doors bore the discreet legend: "Department 99." He crossed the hall and entered. Waving at the little blonde in the switchboard cubby to the right of the doorway, he continued a few steps into the office beyond. Two secretaries looked up from the row of desks facing him, a third

Castor P. Smith sat at the head of a steel and plastic table in the conference room, whistling thoughtfully as he waited for his assistants. Next door in the communications room, the tortured tune his lips emitted would have been treated as deliberate jamming. Simonetta Diorio entered carrying a recorder, and he roused himself for a smile of appreciation. "You won't forget to turn it on when you start, Mr. Smith?" she pleaded. "I'll keep my finger on the switch until then," he grinned. "Thanks,

Louis Taranto sat on his heels against the baked clay wall of the cell, watching the sweat run down the face of his companion. Though he privately considered Harvey Meyers a very weak link, he had so far restrained himself from hinting as much. They were in this hole together, and he might well need the blubbery loudmouth's help to get out—if there were any way to get out. Meyers sat on the single bench with which their jailers had provided them, staring mournfully at the rude table upon which h

Westervelt sat at his little desk in the corner, doodling out possible ways and means of breaking out of a cell thirty fathoms or so under water. From time to time Beryl or Simonetta offered a suggestion. He knew that everyone in the office was probably engaged in the same puzzle. Smith believed in general brain-storming in getting a project started, since no one could tell where a good idea might not originate. "If I ever get into space," Willie muttered, "it will never be to a planet as wet as

When Beryl walked in, Westervelt was at one of the tall windows with Simonetta, dialing filter combinations to make the most of the setting sun. They had the edge of it showing as a deep crimson ball beside another building in the vicinity. "What are you two doping out?" asked the blonde. "Some disappearing trick?" Simonetta laughed as Westervelt shoved the dial setting to afternoon normal. "It's an idea," he said, scowling at Beryl. "For underwater?" she demanded mockingly. "Ever hear of a squi

For a jail cell, the chamber was quite commodious. The walls were of bare stone, like most of the buildings on Greenhaven which Maria Ringstad had visited during her short period of sightseeing. She thought that it must have entailed a great deal of extra labor to provide such large rooms in a stone building, especially when the materials had to be quarried by relatively primitive means. On Greenhaven, everything had evidently been done the hard way. She had heard about that facet of the Greenie

Westehvelt was still sitting with Joe Rosenkrantz in the communications room when Colborn's call came through. He looked over Joe's shoulder as the operator swiveled to face his telephone viewer. "How come you remembered the number?" he greeted Colborn. "Did the elevator doors close on you?" "Very-funny-ha-ha!" retorted Colborn. "Look, Joe—have you got power?" Westervelt peered closer, thinking that the redhead looked unusually concerned. Rosenkrantz seemed not to have noticed. "Power?" he said.

The room would have been nearly a cube except for the fact that hardly any parallel lines appeared in its design. The corners were rounded and the ceiling slightly arched. The floor, though much of it was obscured by a plentiful supply of cushions, was obviously several inches higher in the center than where it curved up to meet the walls. All surfaces were the color of old ivory but seemed to be of a more porous material. The cushions could have been cut from slabs of some foamy, resilient subs

In the library, between Smith's corner office and the conference room that adjoined the communications center, Westervelt sat and watched Lydman pore over a technical report in the blue binding of the Department of Interstellar Relations. Half a dozen other volumes, old and new, technical and diplomatic, were scattered about the table between them. The youth caught himself running a hand through his hair in Smith's usual manner, and stopped, appalled. He judged, after due reflection, that it mig

The first sensation that penetrated, agonizingly, to Taranto's consciousness was that of heat. Heat, and then the damp itch of soaking sweat. The next feeling, as he groggily sought to take up the slack in his hanging jaw, was thirst. It was a raging demand that brought him entirely awake. Before he could control himself, he had emitted a groan. Immediately, he was dropped from whatever had been supporting him in a swaying, dipping fashion. He landed with a thud on the hard ground. A chatter of

Smith stood at the corner of the corridor, leaning back every half minute or so to peek around at the stretch leading toward the library and communications room. Westervelt had propped himself with folded arms against the opposite wall, facing the door to the stairs. Beryl hovered behind Parrish, who faced Smith impatiently between darting glares at Westervelt. "All right, I guess I have to tell you, Pete," said Smith in a low tone. "You might say we are temporarily inconvenienced." "By him?" as

The light, impotent after penetrating fifty fathoms of Tridentian sea, was murky and green-tinted; but Tom Harris had become more or less used to that. It rankled, nevertheless, that the sea-people continued to ignore his demands for a lamp. He knew that they used such devices. Through the clear walls of his tank, he had seen night parties swimming out to hunt small varieties of fish. The water craft they piloted on longer trips and up to the surface were also equipped with lights powered by som

Time had dragged its slow way past six-thirty. The excuse of a flying start on the Harris case had worn thin to the point of delicacy—to all but one man. The rest of them hoped sincerely that he was keeping himself interested. Westervelt sat at his desk, perusing an article in Spaceman's World about the exploration of a newly discovered planetary system. It might come up in a conference someday, he reflected, and it might be as well to know a few facts on the subject. No life had been discovered

Pauline came back in a quarter of an hour, her youthfully translucent skin glowing and her ash-blonde curls rearranged. She glanced through the window at Beryl, who was nervously punching a number for an outside call. "What's going on?" she asked Westervelt, who sat with his heels on the center desk. "Mr. Smith is calling a couple of engineers he knows," Simonetta told her. Westervelt had just heard it, when Simonetta had emerged with a tape to transcribe. He had started to mention that it might

In the building to which the two terrans had brought him, Gerson crouched behind the ornate balustrade edging the mezzanine. He was near the head of the stairway and hoped to get nearer. A look down the hall behind him showed no unwary heads in view. He studied the sections of the hall below, which he could see through the openings in the railing. There had been a great scrambling about down there a moment earlier, so he was uneasy about showing himself. He had armed himself as chance provided:

In the communications room of department 99, Westervelt could actually hear people around him breathing, so hushed was the gathering. Someone was leaning on his shoulder, but he was reluctant to attract attention by moving. Static sounds and the clicking and humming of various mechanisms about the room suddenly became unnaturally noticable. Glancing this way and that, he discovered that the entire staff had drifted in during the transmission from Yoleen. There were at least two people behind him

John Willard set a brisk pace through the streets of First Haven, as befitted a conscientious public servant. Maria Ringstad kept up with him as best she could. When she lagged, the thin cord tightened around her wrist, and he grumbled over his shoulder at her. Naturally, she carried her bag. He had explained that they would have been most inconspicuous with her walking properly a yard behind him. Anyone would then have taken them for man and wife or man and servant—had it not been for her Terra

Was it the pain in his head that made everything seem to sway? Or was it the swaying that made his head hurt? Taranto opened his eyes slowly. For two or three minutes, in the darkness, he did not understand what he saw. Gradually, comprehension developed. He was on a litter again, and the bearers were descending a rough track into a shallow valley. There was no sign of the city or of any other landmark even vaguely familiar. Jagged rocks formed a ridge to his left, curving around to enclose the

It was twenty after eight when Westervelt found himself back at the communications room with Smith. Rosenkrantz had alerted them to a message coming in from Syssoka. "They didn't expect to hit us during office hours," he explained, "but as long as you're here, I thought maybe you'd like to get it fresh." Smith had told the girls to pass the word to Lydman and Parrish, and Westervelt had followed him down the hall with the feeling that he had displayed his eye under the good lighting long enough.

Westervelt watched them walk up the hall. He thought of going back into the laboratory to find the open window. In his mind, he could see the straight, twenty-five story drop down the side of the dark tower to the roof of the larger part of the building. He recalled having looked down once or twice. The people down there had paved patios outside their offices. A hurtling body would.... He shook the thought out of his head and hurried to catch up to Parrish and the two girls. They trouped into th