Masters of Space

"BUT didn't you feel anything, Javo?" Strain was apparent in every line of Tula's taut, bare body. "Nothing at all?" "Nothing whatever." The one called Javo relaxed from his rigid concentration. "Nothing has changed. Nor will it." "That conclusion is indefensible!" Tula snapped. "With the promised return of the Masters there must and will be changes. Didn't any of you feel anything?" Her hot, demanding eyes swept the group; a group whose like, except for physical perfection, could be found in any nudist colony. No one except Tula had felt a thing. "That fact is not too surprising," Javo said finally. "You have the most sensitive receptors of us all. But are you sure?" "I am sure. It was the thought-form of a living Master." "Do you think that the Master perceived your web?" "It is certain. Those who built us are stronger than we." "That is true. As they promised, then, so long and long ago, our Masters are returning home to us." Jarvis Hilton of Terra, the youngest man yet to be assigned to direct any such tremendous deep-space undertaking as Project Theta Orionis, sat in conference with his two seconds-in-command. Assistant Director Sandra Cummings, analyst-synthesist and semantician, was tall, blonde and svelte. Planetographer William Karns-a black-haired, black-browed, black-eyed man of thirty-was third in rank of the scientific group.