He reached the ship in less than an hour. He entered, dogged the airlocks shut, went slowly toward the transparent door of the control room. He threw open the door and stood looking at the empty chair and the tattered strands of rope which had held Rex. He was drained of emotion, though, and he leaned weakly against the door jamb. Finally he moved, left the ship, and spent another hour looking for Rex.
He didn't find him. Rex had consciously obscured his tracks. He went back to the ship, smiling without mirth. That was funny. Rex drove himself crazy figuring out a way to get back to Earth for four years. Then he backed out. He had chosen the same path as the Wortans, and maybe for as good a reason....
He drove straight away from the dying red sun. A billion miles out, he was picked up by the stately ship of the Stellar Survey. He was ushered into the presence of the officer who had appeared in the teleview plate. That individual was cold in his welcome.
"You've cost the tax-payers a mint of money," he growled. "They've had ships on the lookout for you for four years. Where's the other young fellow?"
Carl told the story while the officer slowly tensed. Then he looked annoyed. "It seems a little extreme for Oberling to have committed suicide."
"Maybe, sir. Except that one doesn't go around destroying solar systems without a good reason. If you hadn't shown up when you did—"
"There would have been a good reason?" The officer sat silent. "Yes, I suppose so. A classical bit of irony, that. Destroying a sun to attract rescuers—then the rescuers spoil the drama of it by showing up ahead of time. And the funny part of it is that it would have worked."
He seemed to recollect. He hastily snapped in the teleview, motioned Carl to come around to his side of the desk.
"Chances are," the officer said, consulting some figures, "We'll see a merry hell-fire in the next few minutes."