"You have, in a way, been kidnapped. And the Raimees have fled to your planet—an unregistered planet."
"I'm afraid," Martha Graham said shakily.
"You have nothing to fear," said the man. "You are no longer on the planet of your birth—nor even in the same galaxy." He glanced at Ted Graham's wrist. "That device on your wrist—it tells your local time?"
"Yes."
"That will help in the search. And your sun—can you describe its atomic cycle?"
Ted Graham groped in his mind for his science memories from school, from the Sunday supplements. "I can recall that our galaxy is a spiral like—"
"Most galaxies are spiral."
"Is this some kind of a practical joke?" asked Ted Graham.
The man smiled, a cold, superior smile. "It is no joke. Now I will make you a proposition."
Ted nodded warily. "All right, let's have the stinger."