"He's just explained that," said Tex. "He's the guy that yelled for help. But what beats me is that it should happen to be us-it's like dealing out a bridge hand and getting thirteen spades."
"Oh, I don't know," objected Oscar. "It's a coincidence, but not a very startling one. He's a spaceman, he hollers for help, and naturally the Patrol responds. It happened to be us. It's about as likely, or as unlikely, as running across your piano teacher on the downtown streets of your home town."
"I don't have a piano teacher," objected Tex.
"Skip it. Neither do I. Now I think-"
"Wait a minute," broke in Burke, "do I gather that you were sent here, in answer to my message?"
"Certainly."
"Well, thank heaven for that-even if you guys were stupid enough to stumble right into it. Now tell me-how many are there in the expedition and how are they equipped? This is going to be a tough nut to crack."
"Huh? What are you talking about, Stinky? This is the expedition, right in front of you."
"What? This is no time to joke. I sent for a regiment of marines, equipped for amphibious operations."
"Maybe you did, but this is what you got-total. Lieutenant Thurlow is in command, but he got a crack on the skull so I'm temporarily filling in for him. You can talk to me-what's the situation?"