They watched in silence as the strange craft drifted toward them. There was no sign of life aboard her; no attempts at communication or of establishing her identity. Quite obviously the craft was deserted.
Devries didn't like the looks of it one bit, and said so.
It loomed up larger and larger as the tiny Wasp was drawn swiftly to it. Then with a little shock the Wasp clanged against the strange ship's side and clung there.
The crew moved for the space-suits. Commander Janus snapped: "Wait a minute!" He stood there frowning, his gray hair bristling. "Something funny here. We'd better go slow." His eyes were troubled.
"But a derelict, sir," Blake said. "Space code says we're obliged to board her, examine her log."
"Don't quote me the space code!" Janus snapped. "Point is, is she a derelict? Maybe you failed to notice we didn't drift to her by natural attraction; we were pulled! Someone left on her magniplates. Why?"
"Could have been an accident," Blake suggested.
Janus shook his head. "Another thing. Her outer lock is open and we landed smack against it. All we've got to do is step over. How extraordinarily convenient."
Ketrik peered through the turret at the black derelict. "Say, you're right!" He grinned, started to quote an ancient nursery rhyme: "Walk into my parlor, said the spider—"
He stopped suddenly, aware of young Ross standing there with eyes aglow and eager. Ross was the novice member. The space-ennui had begun to get to him, so Janus had ordered him to his cabin to sleep it off. Once the ennui gets a grip on a man in the vast outer spaces he's not much good for anything, even though he might be a good spaceman in the inner planets.