"I was just thinking." He took the blaster and stuck it awkwardly in his belt. He felt suddenly foolish. The trouble could have been any number of things; it didn't necessarily mean gun trouble. He was on the point of removing the big clumsy weapon from his belt when the screen flashed again.
"He's coming now," Linda said.
He was coming, all right. The screen flashed green for arrival. It was seven feet high and three feet across, that screen, and whoever materialized at the station would materialize in the screen itself.
"What about the danger signal?" Linda asked.
"They always follow it up with a verbal message," Liddell explained. "It usually only takes a few minutes. It—"
"Here he comes!" Linda cried.
Something was shimmering in the screen, pulsing, struggling to bridge the yawning chasm between the space which was not and the universe which was. It gradually took the shape of a man floating in an unexpectedly fetus-like position.
