"So far, you're right. But what of this particular problem?"
"Yes, sir," the aide said. "Krraula, and the Beolin rulers, have power in and about their system to the extent that their depredations go unchallenged there. And an apathetic Interstellar Command—"
"Does not act," finished the Commander. "You are entirely correct, Kina." He touched studs on the desk and reports slid through the viewer on the wall. He said quietly, "We have lost a score of ships—ships that we are sure the Beolins could tell us about. And yet the Command does not act." He looked reflectively at the slim, impassive man, and then spoke swiftly.
"Kina, I want you to get me two more connections ... Sirius VII, and the Command Cruiser nearest to Beolin. Hurry! The cruiser first."
A minute or so later, Kina slipped a sheet of paper onto the desk, and touched a switch. The screen glittered into life, showing the face of a man who wore a captain's shoulder bars. Glancing at the paper, which gave the name of the officer and the ship, the Commander said, "Captain Stang, how far are you from Beolin?"
"Roughly twenty light years, sir," was the immediate answer.
"Do you think that you can make a speed of—say—five light-years per hour, or perhaps more?"
The captain frowned slightly. "I'm not sure, Commander. Perhaps we can."
"Good! Stand by, at your present position in space." Gray switched off.