Vomact repeated: "Top emergency. Report to your central tie-in."
"But, sir, no emergency like this—"
"Right, Martel. No emergency like this, ever before. Report to tie-in." With a faint glint of kindliness, Vomact added: "No need to de-cranch. Report as you are."
This time it was Martel whose phone was cut out. The screen went gray.
He turned to Luci. The temper had gone out of his voice. She came to him. She kissed him, and rumpled his hair. All she could say was,
"I'm sorry."
She kissed him again, knowing his disappointment. "Take good care of yourself, darling. I'll wait."
He scanned, and slipped into his transparent aircoat. At the window he paused, and waved. She called, "Good luck!" As the air flowed past him he said to himself, "This is the first time I've felt flight in—eleven years. Lord, but it's easy to fly if you can feel yourself live!"
Central Tie-in glowed white and austere far ahead. Martel peered. He saw no glare of incoming ships from the Up-and-Out, no shuddering flare of Space-fire out of control. Everything was quiet, as it should be on an off-duty night.
And yet Vomact had called. He had called an emergency higher than Space. There was no such thing. But Vomact had called it.