Heselton leaped for the microphone. "Are you out of your mind? We haven't the slightest idea of the forces that guy has. We might be in the center of a whole blooming fleet. Ever think of that?"
The alien's face, still smirking, appeared again on the screen. "He says," said the interpreter, "that he finds the presence of our armed ship very annoying."
Heselton knew what he had to do. "Tell him," he said, swallowing hard, "that we apologize. This part of the galaxy is strange to us."
"He says he is contemplating blasting us out of the sky."
Heselton said nothing, but he longed to reach out and throttle the grinning, alien face.
"However," the interpreter continued, "he will let us go safely if we leave immediately. He says to send an unarmed, diplomatic vessel next time and maybe his people will talk to us."
"Thank him for his kindness." Heselton's jaws clenched so tightly they ached.
"He says," said the interpreter, "to get the hell out."
The grinning face snapped off the screen, but the cackling laughter continued to reverberate in the control room until the radio shack finally turned off the receiver.
"Reverse course," the admiral ordered quietly. "Maximum drive."