The Zara received them in the throne room, alone.  Blaine hesitated as he crossed the threshold, Ulana’s trembling fingers tightly clasped in his own.  The quick prod of the invisible ray pistol warned him that Ianito was at his heels.

Clyone uncurled her sinuous, black-sheathed body and rose to her feet as they neared the dais.

“Welcome, oh Carson,” she purred.  “Clyone has mourned you as dead, but she mourns no longer.  A kind fate has returned you.”

The gold-flecked eyes were all for him; it was as if she did not see his companion.  Blaine fought the spell of her with all that was in him.  He did not reply.

“Come to me, Carson,” she pleaded, her lashes lowered.  “Leave this Rulan girl and come to me.”

“Where I go she goes,” he replied firmly.

“Very well then,” said the Zara meekly, “bring her with you.  I would converse with her as with you.”

Something new, this was:  a gentleness Blaine had never thought the leopard woman could exhibit, even in sham.  And her eyes, when she raised them, still were gentle.  She extended a white arm and smiled provocatively.  If this was a ruse, if she meant harm to the Rulan maid, her acting was superb.  And, from what he had seen of the woman previously, he was almost convinced of her sincerity.  A nature like hers was incapable of successful dissimulation.  Still, he was suspicious and he shielded Ulana with his body as they came up to the throne.  The Zara studied them in silence for a while.  Then she spoke.

“Let me look at you, my dear,” she said to the Rulan maiden.

And Ulana, unafraid, faced her boldly.  His muscles tensed, Blaine watched every movement of the Zara’s straying fingers.  But her gaze was direct and kindly; there was no dissembling here.  It was not the same Clyone he had previously known.

“You are very beautiful, Ulana,” she said softly.  “Do you love this Earth man very much?”

“I do, Your Majesty.”

“And you, Carson, you love her-very much?”

His answer was wordless.  A sudden lump in his throat choked back the vigorous affirmative and he merely nodded, mute, as he enfolded the slight form of Ulana in his arms.

“Carson-are you sure?” Clyone was pleading, her eyes compelling; tender.  Ulana drew away from his arms, waiting.

What had come over the leopard woman?  She was a creature of mad vagaries, he knew, and yet this was the most convincing mood he had seen.  Despite his knowledge of her past; despite his better judgment, he was drawn toward her.  A step, and then quick revulsion of feeling.  He recoiled and turned swiftly to Ulana.

Clyone saw and understood.  Her tender mood was over in a flash and she crouched there, terrible jealous eyes fixed on the Rulan maiden.  She extended a white arm with jeweled fingers, pointing.  Blaine swung quickly, brushing the arm aside just as that intangible something flashed from her hand.  The energy of the black disks!  It had missed Ulana by inches, but crashed home-on something!

A scream of terror rang out in the chamber, and there on the floor a dozen paces from the dais the thing that had been Ianito wriggled under the heap of whirring black things that suddenly covered the invisible form.  He wriggled and then lay still as the angry buzzing of the black destroyers rose in triumphant, discordant song.

“Ianito!” the Zara exclaimed, thunderstruck.  “He was here?”

“He was,” Blaine assured her in an awed voice, “invisible, oh Zara, in a cloak contrived by Dantor, the Rulan scientist.”  Then blind rage overcame him.  She had tried to kill Ulana; before his eyes!  “You she-devil!” he roared.  “I’ve half a mind to choke the vile life from your tainted body.  Damn you!  May the heat devils of Mercury burn and sear and shrivel you in everlasting torment.”

She cowered as if he had struck her, and, unaccountably, he was ashamed.  Cursing her like a schoolboy and using the language of the lower class Venerians!

“Please, Carson, please,” she moaned; “do it.  Choke me if you will and release me from my torment.  I am yours to do with as you please.”  Throwing back her proud head, she bared her throat.

Blaine took a step forward, his knees weak beneath him.

“Carson!” It was Ulana, her hand soft on his arm.

He drew the back of his hand across his eyes.  This was madness!  But was ever a woman so deserving of death?  Incomprehensible half-animal creature, she sat there rocking to and fro, waiting.

“No!” he said.  “No!  Only let us go in peace, Clyone.  Your sins be on your own head.  Your realization of them is punishment enough.”

“Wait!” Controlling herself now, she rose once more, and her face was transfigured.  Almost it seemed that she was happy.  “Wait!” she repeated.  “You are free to go when I have finished, but first Clyone wishes to bid you farewell.”

They faced her in silent wonderment.

“Ianito is gone,” she continued, “and the Llotta are helpless without him, unless I take over their leadership in fact.  He was my master, I admit.  But Clyone is able to carry on with the plans he conceived; able, but no longer willing.  Clyone is abdicating.  It but remains for you, Carson, to put a stop to this thing they are doing down there at the great rocket-tube.  You can do it, I am certain.  Go now; and think not too badly of Clyone when you have gone.  Farewell.”

With a quick motion she raised her fingers to her lips, then tossed a small vial crashing to the floor.

“Carson-she has taken something,” Ulana stifled a hysterical sob as she spoke.  “Go to her.  It is the least you can do.”

Blaine caught the leopard woman in his arms and lowered her gently to the luxurious cushions of the throne she had occupied for so long a time, a queen in name only.  Already the gold-flecked eyes were glazing and they begged him piteously.

“Kiss me.”  Her lips formed the words, but no sound came.

Ulana was there, on her knees and crying.  “Carson, you must,” she urged him.

The spirit of Clyone, with its great burden of evil and some little of good, left the beautiful body as the Earth man pressed his lips to hers.  An unwonted smile, placid and content, wreathed the still features.

The Zara was no more.

Stunned and shaken by what they had seen, they hurried from the chamber of death.  Blaine located the lift and they were quickly carried to the laboratory.

Dantor was there, working with the astronomers, and Blaine drew him aside, whispering the story in his ear in swift disjointed sentences.  The aged scientist could scarcely credit his senses.

The thrumming of the copper shell to the energy of the second rocket-tube charge came but faintly to their ears in this place, since the vacuum of outer space surrounded the great domed structure.  But the vibration and quakings of the satellite were transmitted to the floorplates on which they stood.  They knew that Antrid was swinging ever outward from the mother planet.

“You must do it alone,” Dantor was saying; “you and Ulana.  I have no control over these Llotta.  I am here only on sufferance of Ianito, and Ianito is no more.  But they know it not.  These in the dome think he is with you now, cloaked in invisibility.  The tale of the cloaks has been broadcast.  You are safe for the present and can descend to the base of the rocket with impunity.  Ianito’s name is the password.  And here is a ray pistol, fully charged; two of them.  He left them in his desk.  Go now, quickly.”

“The way-how do we get there?” Blaine’s fingers closed lovingly over the butts of the pistols and he thrust them in his pockets.

“Oh yes.  The lift-the one that carried you to the palace-its shaft ends deep down beneath the natural surface of Antrid in a tunnel where a moving platform will carry you to your friend.  May your God and the gods of ancient Antrid be with you.”

Once more they were in the cage of the lift, dropping with breath-taking speed.  Down into the bowels of the satellite they sped and it seemed the shaft would never end.

Then they were in the tunnel Dantor had told them about, smooth walls speeding past as the swiftly moving platform carried them on.  The great arched chamber opened before them at last and they saw that the workmen were returning to their tasks.  The huge breech of the rocket-tube had cooled to a dimly visible red, the second charge having done its work.

Hands in his pockets and walking stiffly as if mechanized, the Earth man presented himself before the guard at the entrance, Ulana pressed close to his side.  He feigned the hypnotic state.

“I-an-i-to,” he repeated in jerky syllables, acting the part, “he-sent us-with message-for Farley.”

The guard grinned.  Even here the story of the Earth man and the Rulan maiden was known.  The strange leniency of Ianito in permitting them to remain together was the topic of the day.  He waved them through with an indulgent gesture.  Ianito knew what he was about, and would have his little joke-later.

Tom Farley was there, waiting with the Llott scientists until the breech block should have cooled sufficiently to permit them to open it and prepare the third charge.  A flicker of recognition in his glazed eyes told Blaine he was not altogether gone, but Tommy gave no other outward sign.  Perhaps with Ianito no longer alive, the mental control would become ineffective.

They had not long to wait, for the breech was water-jacketed and cooled rapidly.  Blaine puttered around with unfamiliar test tubes and retorts, watching for a chance to get a word with Tommy in private.  He was almost certain that his friend was recovering.  Ulana sat there on a greasy bench, regarding the scene with anxious eyes.  She was a brick:  game as they made them.

Tommy was beside him then, weighing a heap of the dry soil for the next charge.  “Are you all right?” Blaine whispered.

But Tom Farley stared back with not a glimmer of comprehension:  He was still a victim of the mechanizing process of the Llotta.  With a carefully planned but seemingly careless gesture, Blaine slid back the weight on the scale arm.  This charge would be short of the proper ratio of dry soil.  He wondered what the effect would be.

One of the Llott scientists came over then with the radium capsule, and Tommy attached it to the clamp that would hold it in contact with the cube of k-metal.  The dry soil was shoveled into the breech block by the unsuspecting Llotta and the thing was ready for the placing of the excitant.

The great breech block swung home and a siren shrieked.  All work in the laboratory was suspended and the workmen stood around in expectant silence.  Blaine found himself worrying as to the possible result of his tampering.

“I saw you!” Tommy hissed then in his ear.  “There’ll be hell to pay now.  We gotta beat it.”

Good old Tommy!  He’d recovered after all.  He, too, had been shamming at the last.  Blaine saw they were unobserved and thrust one of the pistols in his hand.

“Now!” his friend rasped.  “Before they get wise.  Grab the girl and we’ll make a break for the tunnel entrance:  over there.”

Ulana took in the situation at a glance and was at his side.  They moved swiftly in the direction of the entrance through which they had come.

A terrific roar came from the base of the rocket tube and the Llotta broke into excited screechings.  Something different about it this time.  There was a terrible menacing note in the jarring thump which preceded the roar.  A muffled boom high in the five mile depth of rock strata above them spelled disaster of an unknown and terrifying nature.  The breech of the tube was white with heat in an instant of time.

Pandemonium broke loose now and the Earth men were running for the exit to the lift, covering their retreat with brandished ray pistols.  Ulana, brave girl, ran alongside, swinging a pinch bar she had picked up, ready to help.