"Lens-to-Lens, chief, please," Kinnison cautioned, when the handsome old face, surmounted now by a shock of bushy gray hair, appeared upon his plate. "Didn't want to interrupt anything important, is why I called you through the office instead of direct."
"You always have the right of way, Kim, you know that—you're the most important thing in the Galaxy right now," Haynes said, soberly.
"Well, a minute or so wouldn't make any difference—not that much difference, anyway," Kinnison replied, uncomfortably. "I don't like to Lens you unless I have to," and he began his report.
Scarcely had he started, however, when he felt a call impinge upon his own Lens. Clarrissa was calling him from Lyrane II.
"Just a sec, admiral!" he thought, rapidly. "Come in, Chris—make it a three-way with Admiral Haynes!"
"You told me to report anything unusual, no matter what," the girl began. "Well, I finally managed to get almost chummy with Helen, and absolutely the only unusual thing I can find out about the whole planet or race is that the death rate from airplane crashes began to go up awhile ago and is still rising. I don't see how that fact can have any bearing, but am reporting it as per instructions."
"Hm-m-m. What kind of crashes?" Kinnison asked.
"That's the unusual feature of it. Nobody knows—they just disappear."
"WHAT?" Kinnison yelled the thought, so forcibly that both Clarrissa and Haynes winced under its impact.
"Why, yes," she replied, innocently. "But I don't see yet that it means—"