"I don't know," he said miserably, beginning to understand how uncomfortable the Little Death might be. "I would give a lot to know. He may have had a clue to what I am."
Murdock's cold blue eyes narrowed, and he regarded Saxon with a peculiar intensity. "That's a devilish odd way for him to put it," the T.I.S. agent was thinking. "What he is! Now why the hell would he say that?"
Saxon realized with chagrin that he had made a slip. He should have said, "Who I am," not "What I am." No human ever doubted that he was a genuine specimen of homo sapiens.
The engine room telegraph buzzed suddenly, and when the captain answered, Villainowski's voice reached the two men.
"Sound the general alarm, Captain. Turn the ship over to the robot control. We're going into the Little Death."
"Right," said the captain. He looked pale and worn and older. He snapped off the telegraph, turned to the third. "Sound the general alarm and turn on the public address system, then go to your cabin." The third nodded, reached for the switch.
An ugly clangor broke through the Shooting Star from stem to stern, followed immediately by a harsh metallic voice issuing from strategically placed audios.
"All officers, members of unlicensed personnel and staff report to your quarters at once and lie on your bunks."
There was a series of clicks as the ship went smoothly over to the robot controls.
The command ordering everyone to their cabins was repeated three more times.