"Ouch!" said Jeff. This time he had landed on one side, still holding Norby. His right elbow hurt like mad.
"Where are we?" whispered Norby, his eyes peering from between the barrel and the hat. "Have I gotten us to the right place?"
"You have," said Jeff, sitting up with a groan.
"Never-fail Norby, they call me."
Jeff looked about and found himself in the midst of the highest officers in the Space Command, including Admiral Yobo, who looked as if he had been glaring and swearing for some time.
In back of Jeff was the open door of Space Command's transit station.
"It's working!" one of the officers cried, rushing past Jeff into the transmit.
"This boy must have come by transmit and rolled out just now," said another. "Didn't anyone see him? With this kind of security, we could expect Ing himself to appear among us."
"I saw him arrive," said Yobo in his rolling bass voice. "I think you 'II find that however Cadet Wells arrived, the transmit is again out of order."
Again out of order, not still. The Admiral was careful not to describe exactly what he had seen or hint that arrival had not been by transmit. A good man, thought Jeff. Quick-thinking and on the side of all decent cadets.
"May I speak to you alone, Admiral?" Jeff asked.
Yobo stroked his chin thoughtfully, then nodded at the others-an offhand gesture that had the clear force of a command. The officers left.
"My robot-" Jeff began.
"You bought that robot with the money I gave you? That was all you could get?" said the admiral.
Norby stirred, but Jeff punched the barrel from behind to keep him quiet. "It is a very good robot," Jeff said, "with a number of good and also exasperating abilities. And he will teach me Martian Swahili in no time. He is also a clever engineer and can fix the transmit. Ing and his Ingrates have control of Manhattan and-"
"We know about that, Cadet Wells. He's issuing orders for total surrender and insists on being called 'Emperor.' My own feeling is that the transmit isn't broken, but is under control from the other end." Yobo looked calmly at Jeff. Then he said, " And what do you say about that?"
"Aren't you going to do anything?" Jeff asked.
"I'm certainly not going to surrender," Yobo said, "but I have to be careful. All of Manhattan is hostage to Ing, and other places on Earth may fall to him, too, unless-"
"Unless what, sir?"
"Unless your brother can do something. He has been my close adviser in all this. He suspected that Ing would strike at Manhattan first, and he has taken measures."
"What measures?"
"We'll have to see," said Yobo calmly. "Meanwhile, what is it you want to do? Anything besides fixing the unfixable transmit?"
"I guess my robot can't really fix the transmit if Ing's blocked it. May I consult Norby-that's my robot's name-sir?"
"Go ahead, Cadet."
Jeff bent over Norby's hat and asked in a whisper, "What now?"
Norby's answer was so soft that Jeff couldn't hear, so he bent closer until his nose touched Norby's hat. His nose tingled and he stood up. "Ow!"
Norby's hand reached over to Jeff's leg and grabbed it hard.
I don't want the admiral to hear! I think I could gimmick a small ship (if he'll give us one) and hyperjump us to Earth.
Jeff gulped. "Norby?" he said faintly, feeling the tingle through his leg this time.
I think the dragon made you responsive to telepathy if I touch you. Get me a ship!
"Cadet Wells!" said Yobo. "Are you sane?"
"Most of the time, sir. And Norby is, too, some of the time. What we want is a small ship, just large enough to hold me and Norby."
"Why?"
"The idea is to move it past any security network Ing may have, and then fit it into his headquarters. I've been there, and I recognized it. He had it all draped in flags, but I could tell it was the main waiting room of the Old Grand Central Station. It had a museum smell about it, and I learned every inch of it when I used to visit it as a youngster. I know the transmit coordinates of the station, or at least Norby does because he memorizes transmit coordinates whenever he's been anywhere…"
"Cadet, you mean well," said Yobo, "but without a transmit it will take days to get to Earth, and with a transmit you wouldn't need a ship. You don't need a ship to make a trip to Earth. I've got the fleet itself ready to do it, but Ing threatens to blow up Manhattan if I as much as move a ship."
"That's just bluff."
"You're sure of that? You'd risk Earth's most renowned relic of ancient days, its most famous center of population, on your certainty?"
"The fleet would be noticed if it made a move, but one ship-one small ship-".
"Nonsense! It would be noticed, too. You should understand the efficiency of space detection, Cadet. You've been in the academy long enough for that."
"Please, Admiral," said Jeff. "Trust me. My robot is very good with machinery, and perhaps he can speed up one of your small ships and arrange to have it deflect the spy beams and move it right into the Grand Central waiting room."
"You're suggesting an impossibility," said Yobo, "unless…" He stared hard at Norby. Then he added, "Unless this-uh-barrel you clutch so tightly is by way of being a sorcerer. What about my private cruiser? Would that be small enough?"
"How small is it?"
"Small enough to hold just me, although you and your robot-barrel can squeeze in if you don't mind sleeping on the floor."
"Why would we have to sleep on the floor, sir?"
"Because you can "t have my private cruiser without me on it, and I sleep in the one bed. That's the privilege of rank, Cadet."
"Take you, sir?" Jeff leaned over Norby's hat and whispered, "Can you move the admiral along with the ship and us?"
Norby squeaked, "No! Look at the size of him!"
Yobo heard that and smiled. "I'm not exactly stunted, but I am not going to sit here helpless. I've had enough of this whole thing. If you can get a ship into Grand Central Station, Cadet, I want to be with it. If anything happens to me, there are several good men-in their own estimation, if in no one else's-any one of whom could succeed me at once."
Jeff said promptly, "Norby, you can do it. Don't let me hear any negatives. Admiral, you can come, but let me be in temporary command."
"Cadet Wells," said Yobo with a grim smile, "you are more like your brother than I would have imagined. But before we make a move, you're going to tell me exactly how you expect to move the ship to Earth. Any ordinary movement and we'll be lost-and you know it."
Jeff thought awhile. "Admiral," he said, "will you give me your word that what I am about to say will be held in strictest confidence?"
"That's an impertinent request," Yobo said. "Any information you have that is of importance to system security should be delivered at once and without restrictions. What do you mean 'strictest confidence?"
Jeff said miserably, "Well, sir, Norby can move us through hyperspace without a transmit."
"Indeed? I rather suspected you had something like that in mind, since nothing else would accomplish what you plan to do. And how does Norby bring about this impossibility?"
"I don't know. And he doesn't, either."
"After this is over, shouldn't he be taken apart so that we can find out the secret of hyperspatial travel?"
Norby squawked. "Jeff, have nothing to do with this oversize monster. He's as bad as that dragon."
"What dragon?" asked Yobo.
"Just a mythical monster, sir. But that's why I want the information held confidential. If it's found out, all the scientists would want to take him apart, and they still might not find out, and then we might not be able to put him together again, and we would end up with nothing."
"We would kill the goose that lays the golden eggs," whispered Norby angrily. "Tell him that, Jeff. Only make it a more intelligent bird. "
Jeff nudged Norby into silence. "As it is, Admiral, Norby would make an important secret weapon for the Federation. He has all sorts of powers that he can handle with perfect ease-almost."
"Very well, but why aren't we taking a squadron of armed men and a battle cruiser, then?"
"Well, Admiral, Norby's powers are, for the moment, somewhat limited."
The admiral laughed. "You mean he's a small robot and can only handle small things."
"You are not a small thing, you overgrown human, you!" shouted Norby.
The admiral laughed again. "I suppose I'm not. But let's go ahead, you undergrown barrel, you. I'll have my personal cruiser made ready."
An hour later they were on the cruiser, and Norby had plugged himself into the ship's engine. "I don't promise I can make this work," he grumbled. "Getting an entire ship with me through hyperspace is no small task."
"You can do it, Norby," Jeff said.
"Me? An undergrown barrel?"
"Yes, you. An ancient, intelligent, very brave, and powerful robot," said Jeff. " And if you don't, I will take out your works and fill your barrel with peanut butter-rancid peanut butter, so that the dragon-mother won't notice the nail smell anymore."
The jump through hyperspace was not quite perfect.
"We're not inside Grand Central," said Jeff.
"Well, there it is, right ahead," Norby said indignantly. "You have to allow for a little slippage. Ask any engineer."
"This will do fine," said the admiral. "We just require a tiny normal space correction."
Two seconds later, the admiral's personal cruiser was hovering on an antigrav beam in the air above Ing's throne. The ship was draped in flags, and a window behind it was smashed.
"Brilliant, Admiral," said Jeff. "Brilliant."
Norby groaned. "It was my hyperspatial jump, and it's my antigrav beam. I'm the one who's brilliant, only I don't know how long I can hold the ship up. My insides feel as if they're caving in."
Let the admiral get some credit, Norby, Jeff said telepathically. Rank has its privileges.
"Now hear this!" The admiral's bass voice rolled out across the vastness of the room. Ing himself, his mask still in place, was standing next to his throne looking up at the ship. He made no sound. His soldiers stood as if in a trance, stunned by the appearance of the ship.
"We have all of you under our guns," said Admiral Yobo, touching a button so that at least one gun extruded from the hull and aimed itself directly at Ing. "Put down your weapons and surrender. There will be no Solar Empire and no Emperor."
The ship settled slowly upon the throne, smashing it. Jeff heaved a sigh of relief.
Ing ran for the transmit.
"Stop him!" Jeff cried.
"We don't want to kill him," the admiral said, "or they'll make a heroic martyr out of him. Let's see, now, I might be able to destroy the transmit, but that might-"
"Let me out, Jeff," said Norby. "I'll do it."
The admiral, coming to an instant decision, touched another button, and a panel opened. "Get him, little robot!" he cried.
Norby hurtled out and aimed himself at Ing, but the transmit doors were opening and Ing was almost there.
Out of the transmit stepped Fargo, Albany, and a band of armed Manhattan policemen. "Greetings, Emperor," Fargo said with composure. "We were about to depose you, but I see from Norby here that my younger brother must have arrived with the same notion in mind. You can't beat the Wells brothers.
"Fargo," came the booming and unmistakable voice of Admiral Yobo, "what happened? Report!"
"Admiral? You're here, too? Well, it was simple. We were imprisoned here, but Albany and I got out, thanks to Norby, and after that things worked out exactly as I had hoped. The population of Manhattan was rising in revolt. It may be small, but the people of this island are very patriotic. I attacked the Central Park Precinct house and took it, aided by some clever martial arts on the part of this beautiful policewoman, Albany Jones, whom I expect will be promoted as a result."
"We were also helped by a woman who said she was a birdwatcher," Albany said. "The woman, a Miss Higgins, said she didn't care what happened to the rest of the universe, but that Central Park belonged to the people. She led the crowd against Ing's Ignominies and personally incapacitated at least seven Ingrates before I lost count."
"We liberated and armed a number of policemen and then proceeded to take over other areas," Fargo continued. " At this moment any part of Manhattan not under our control is rapidly coming under it. And as for you, Ing the Inglorious, I suspect you will shortly have a large headache."
Ing had been standing in stunned and helpless silence, while his men were raising their arms in surrender. Norby, who had been circling him, now lunged for his head, which he struck with a metallic clang. Ing went down hard and, as Norby sat on him, the mask came off his face.
The admiral's voice rang out in disgust. "I might have known," he bellowed. "Ing the Intriguer is fussbudget Two Gidlow. I suspected it might be someone in Security! How else could a takeover be carried through with such precision?"
"Gidlow knew you would suspect that," Fargo said. "I think he tried to sell you the notion that I might be the traitor to turn you off the scent."
"He almost succeeded," Yobo admitted. "My apologies, Mr. Wells. I will make it up to you. The contributions of you and Cadet Jefferson Wells will not be forgotten."
"How about Norby?" shrieked Norby, pounding his feet on Gidlow-Ing's chest.
"Nor will Cadet Norby be forgotten."
"I'll be a cadet?" Norby cried out in delight.
"Honorary," the admiral said.
"Take this demon off me!" Gidlow-Ing yelled. "You can't kill me like this. I demand a fair trial."
"Let's give him a fair trial right now," Norby said.
Using his antigrav to lift him in the air, Norby clamped his legs about Ing's neck and dragged the would-be emperor to his feet. Norby swayed from side to side, forcing Ing to waltz about on his skinny, silver-covered legs.
The waiting room rocked with laughter. Even Ing's erstwhile henchmen joined in. The police photographer eagerly ran his holographic camera, filming it all in moving three-dimensional image.
"Ing's revolution is over," the admiral said. "The men of the Manhattan police force have done nobly."
"If you'll notice," Albany said, sweetly but firmly, "half the police force are women."
"True, my dear," the admiral said, and bowed to her with admiring gallantry. "And so are half of the soldiers in my Space Command. I was merely using an old-fashioned figure of speech. Which reminds me that your uniform seems to be strategically tom, and I must compliment you on your figure."
"Admiral," said Fargo, "it is as nothing compared with what textile dissolvers can do, but all such compliments are reserved for me."
'Then I congratulate you, Mr. Wells," said the admiral, "on your good taste-in cops as well as brothers."