But O'Conners was not impressed. He'd kept them in an orbit above Earth's barrier screen for three days while he checked their credentials.
If there had turned up the slightest inconsistency in the communication between their alien minds and his primtive Earth mentality, he'd have refused entry to their crippled and nearly helpless vessel. He would probably have let them die in space rather than let them down, Joe thought bitterly. The bureaucratic mind!
He stepped back to the desk and called his repair superintendent. "Winfield, have you heard anything new from the Nerane IV?"
"Not for the last five hours. They might be dead by now if they're in any serious personnel trouble aboard."
"Yeah, they might be, mightn't they? Just like six months ago when he held the Cordomarians off until nine of them died. Nine specimens of the most brilliant intellect we've ever known — sacrificed to a regulation. We're bringing them down. It's not going to happen again."
"But O'Conners - !"
"They have an ellipsoidal hull. He couldn't tell them from a Croesan Nightwing or a Hammerlane."
"As soon as we key the screen to drop it through, some bright lad in central will pick up the data. They're watching us too closely."
"We'll take that chance. People's lives are more important than O'Conners' regulations. Better send out a boarding party if you haven't heard for that long. See if anyone can get into them. Let me know what their trouble is."
"0.K. I'll send out Perkins and his crew."