He had just reached for a switch when his call buzzer sounded, and when he activated the screen the planetographer reported, "We can't find any such system on our charts."
Hanlon's spirit sank. "Keep looking!" he ordered. "Check with the astronomers. It's somewhere around there—I just came from that planet. The sun is hot—looks like Sol from inside Venus's orbit, although I don't think it's as large as Sol."
Hawarden then put through his call to the imperial palace, his position as local head of the I-S C getting him fast service. After some haggling with the emperor's secretary, and his insistence that it was a matter of the utmost importance that could not wait until morning, he was finally told His Majesty would see him.
"Got it," Hawarden rose. "Come along."
Hanlon started toward the door, then looked down at his torn and dirty clothing. "I'm not very presentable."
"We can get you a uniform from the barracks."
Hanlon thought swiftly. "No, I'd better not chance it, although I'd sure like to."
The admiral thought a moment, then stepped back to his desk and pressed a stud. "Roberts, come in here."
A young man almost exactly Hanlon's size, wearing civilian clothes, came into the office. Hawarden grinned. "Those do?"
The SS man smiled back. "Swell."