"I'm Joe Silver," said that young upstart over Pinkham's shoulder.
"Nobody asked you," said Daley. They had left the screen, all but Jerry, who was making course for the second speck of life in the asteroid belt.
"This is the Elephant's Child, flagship of Armada Seven, 843 days out of Terra to explore star systems 87 through 93," said Pink quietly. "We just plucked you off an asteroid in System Ninety. This is—" take it easy, he said to himself this time, "this is October 18th, 2176."
"Holy Holmendis," said the girl, turning a little pale. "Our ship split up her seams in November of 2158."
Daley, the oldest of the lot at thirty-six, and the coolest spacehead of them all, said, "May I introduce Captain John Pinkham, our leader?" Formalities eased a shock, he knew, and helped you over the rough spots. "I'm Lt. Washington Daley and you are—"
"Organicus Officer Circe Smith, of Colonel Fawcett's exploratory armada," she said automatically.
"Fawcett!" said everyone, loudly and with amazement.
"So he got to System Ninety," said Pink. "Every spaceman on the ways has wondered about Fawcett for eighteen years. He vanished with two ships—"
"She knows that, Captain," said Daley.
"Oh. Of course."