A gong sounded from the instrument board.
It came so suddenly that Carl jumped halfway from the bucket-seat. He gripped the edge of the board, eyes forced open so wide they hurt. He waiting, knowing he had misheard. The gong came again.
Behind him, Rex made an insane gurgling noise. "They've come! They've come!"
Carl's hands were shaking violently as he adjusted the teleview, snapped in the audio. In the teleview gray clouds formed, took on shape, and that shape became the head and shoulders of a man in the trim, pale blue uniform of the Stellar Survey Institution.
Small muscles around the man's eyes and mouth contracted as he saw Carl. He frowned. He said, "You are Carl Wyant and Rex Oberling?"
"Yes, sir," Carl said humbly.
"You will stay where you are. We will pick you up in seven hours. You may consider that a command."
"Yes, sir," replied Carl. "But we can't obey it. I'd advise you, sir, not to come within ten billion miles of the dwarf-red star. It's a potential super-nova. We will meet you at—"
The officer's glance sharpened. "You're talking nonsense. Why is Oberling bound in that chair?"