Peace reigned throughout Helium. Stagnant, emasculating peace.
Helium had no enemies. There was naught to fear.

Without haste the nearest air patrol swung sluggishly about and
approached the stranger. At easy speaking distance the officer
upon her deck hailed the incoming craft.

The cheery "Kaor!" and the plausible explanation that the owner had
come from distant parts for a few days of pleasure in gay Helium
sufficed. The air-patrol boat sheered off, passing again upon its
way. The stranger continued toward a public landing-stage, where
she dropped into the ways and came to rest.

At about the same time a warrior entered her cabin.

"It is done, Vas Kor," he said, handing a small metal key to the
tall noble who had just risen from his sleeping silks and furs.

"Good!" exclaimed the latter. "You must have worked upon it all
during the night, Larok."

The warrior nodded.

"Now fetch me the Heliumetic metal you wrought some days since,"
commanded Vas Kor.

This done, the warrior assisted his master to replace the handsome
jewelled metal of his harness with the plainer ornaments of an
ordinary fighting man of Helium, and with the insignia of the same
house that appeared upon the bow of the flier.