“Whitker?” he asked a tottering ancient who nodded and drowsed amid the facilities of the head.
The old man looked up blearily and squeaked: “Fresh out. Fresh out. You should’ve saved some from yesterday.”
“That’s all right. I’m a new man here. I want to ask you about your friend Flarney——”
Whitker bowed his head and began to cry noiselessly.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Whitker. I heard. But there’s something we can do about it—maybe. Flarney was a faster-than-light man. He must have told you that. So am I. Ross, from Halsey’s Planet.”
He hadn’t the faintest idea as to whether any of this was getting through to the ancient.
“It seems Flarney and I were both on the same mission, finding out how and why planets were dropping out of communication. You and he used to talk a lot, they tell me. Did he ever tell you anything about that?”
Whitker looked up and squeaked dimly. “Oh, yes. All the time. I humored him. He was an old man, you know. And now he’s dead.” The tears leaked from his rheumy eyes and traced the sad furrows beside his nose.
Was he getting through? “What did he say, Mr. Whitker? About faster-than-light?”
The old man said, “L-sub-T equals L-sub-zero e to the minus T-over-two-N.”