"Not set," corrected Gary. "Settled!" And told him what he had told the others.
Muldoon's ruddy face fell. "Well, I'll be damned!" he whispered. "And to think Earth's government set them dumb lunks up in power to rule mankind's affairs! What are we going to do now? We can't give up just because—"
"I think," suggested Nora, "the first thing you'd better do, Flick, is introduce your friend. This must all seem rather mysterious and awkward to him."
"Oh, my golly!" gulped Flick. "I almost forgot. I'm sorry, Hugh. Doc, you remember Hugh Warren, don't you?"
"Warren?" Dr. Bryant's gaze turned querulously toward the tall, fair, smiling young man in the doorway. The newcomer was dressed in the respected gold-trimmed blue of the Solar Space Patrol. His even features were tanned to a cinnamon hue by long exposure to the raw, unshielded radiations of the void. The old scientist's eyes lighted with belated recognition. "Not young Hugh Warren who used to study Celestial Astrogation at the Observatory?"
The spaceman grinned, stepping forward to wring the older man's hand with phalange-crushing enthusiasm.
"The same, Dr. Bryant," he chuckled. "I've never forgotten those courses in Silly Ass. Most fun I've ever had ... and I've had plenty since that. Lord—" He made the rounds, ending beside Gary Lane, about whose shoulders he threw an arm in warm, masculine affection—"Lord, it's good to see you earth-lubbers again! You haven't changed a bit, Gary. You look a little more sober and settled down. But, then, they tell me marriage does that to a guy...."
"Marriage?" echoed Lane blankly.
"Why—why, yes. Isn't this young lady—?"
"No. This is Miss Powell, my assistant. And the gentleman beside Dr. Bryant is Dr. Boris Anjers. Dr. Anjers, Lieutenant Warren."