has been actually a desperate race against the Morlens, for we believe that who is master of the Center is master of the universe."
"That's probably true enough," said Maclure thoughtfully. "And so you make your bid for my support?"
"We do," said Jackson somberly. "That's nice," snapped the Angel viciously. "Now get this and get it straight: I'm not playing anybody's game but my own, and if helping you out against the damn Morlens helps me out I'll do it. On those terms—okay?"
"Okay," said Jackson gravely. "And you'd better begin helping us out pretty fast, because your benefactor Sapphire either relayed to or had his mind read by the Morlens, and they know the results of your calculations. They know where the Center is and, in a way, how to get there."
"Yeah," jeered the Angel. "Give me a piece of land and some tools and I'll build you a space-ship that'll make this thing look like a waterbug for size and speed!"
"Haw!" laughed Jackson, "More damn fun!"
Chapter III
Maclure had mostly duplicated the calculating work he had done back on Earth, working speedily and accurately though somehow depressed by the strangeness of the planet on which he had landed. Not yet had he seen the actual shapes of the Amters; they preferred to show themselves as almost replicas of his owm face and body. Jackson had become his guide and companion.
"Look," said the Angel, glowing with pride. "Something new." He indicated a little sphere of silvery rnetal that looked somehow infinitely heavy. It rested ponderously on a concrete table well braced with steel beams, and even that sagged beneath it.
Jackson inspected the thing. "Weapon?" he asked.
"Darn tootin', friend! I found this as a by-product of warp-synthesis. The base is osmium, the heaviest by volume of any natural element. And over that is a film one molecule thick of neutronium itself. How do you like it?"
"How do you use it?" asked Jack-son cautiously.
"Mix up about a hundred of these things and when you get near enough to an enemy scoot them out into space. And unless they have a damned efficient screen they'll be riddled by simple contact with the things."
"Um," grunted Jackson. "Child's play, of course. When does the real job begin?"
"Any minute now, if you mean the ship. And I have some bad news for you," Maclure added grimly. "You boys're supposed to be the prime exponents of hypnotism and telepathy in the galaxy, right?"
"I think we are," snapped Jackson.
"Well, laugh this off: I happened to get curious about the Morlens so I rigged up a projection gimmick that traces interferences of the eighth magnitude. Or, to translate my terms back into yours, a thought detector."
"Go on, Angel. I think I know what you found," said Jackson slowly. "The Morlens—they're at it?"
"Right," said the Angel. "My setup showed a complete blanketing spy system. The minds of all workers on the calculators were being picked over carefully. In some cases they even substituted Morlen personalities
