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The Ertak’s sending apparatus, for example, could reach out at best no more than a day’s journey in any direction, and then only imperfectly. Transmission of thought by radio instead of symbols or words, had been introduced but a few years before I entered the Service. It must be remembered that I am an old, old man, writing of things that happened before most of the present population of the Universe was born–that I am writing of men who, for the larger part, have long since embarked upon the Greatest Adventure.

* * * * *

“Base, sir,” said the operator after a moment, and I hastily slipped on the radio-menore.

“Commander John Hanson, standing by,” I shot at the operator at Base. “Have you orders?”

“Orders for Captain John Hanson, Commander of the Special Patrol ship Ertak,” emanated the operator in a sort of mental drone. “Chief of Command directs that the Ertak proceed immediately to the scene of the reported difficulty, and take any necessary steps to relieve same. I will repeat the orders,” and he droned through them a second time.

“Orders are understood. The results of our operations will be reported to Base as soon as possible.” I tore off the radio-menore and hurried from the room, explaining to the sub-base commander as I went.

Correy was standing beside the Ertak, talking to Kincaide, and as I approached, they both looked around quickly and hopefully.

“What’s up, sir?” asked Correy, reading news in my face. “A change in orders?”

“Correct! That big liner, the Kabit, landed on Hydrot, and she’s in some sort of mysterious trouble. Orders from the Chief himself are to proceed there immediately. Are any men away from the ship on leave?”

“If there are, we can do without them!” shouted Correy. “I’ll stand a double watch.”

“The crew is on duty, sir,” said Kincaide quietly. “Mr. Hendricks is aboard directing the taking on of supplies. We can leave any time you order, sir.”

“We leave immediately, gentlemen,” I said. “Mr. Correy, will you give the necessary orders?”

“Yes, sir!” grinned Correy, his eyes dancing like a schoolboy’s. He was in the navigating room jabbing attention signals and snapping orders into the microphone before Kincaide and I, moving more leisurely, had entered the ship.

* * * * *

Hurtling through space at maximum speed, it took us two days, Earth time, to come close enough to Hydrot so that we could locate the unfortunate Kabit. She had landed on a level plain near the shore of the new continent, where she lay, just a tiny bright speck, even under the maximum power of our television disk.

“It’s an odd thing, sir, that we can’t raise her by radio,” commented Hendricks, who was on duty. “Have we tried recently?”

“We’ve been trying constantly, at intervals of but a few minutes,” I replied grimly. “Several times, the operator reports, he has been able to get a muffled and garbled response, utterly unintelligible. He says that the signals sound as though the radio emanation-plates in her outer hull were damaged or grounded. We’ll just have to wait until we get there.”

“As soon as we are near enough, please make an analysis of her atmosphere, so that we can break out masks, if necessary.” Hendricks, while young and rather too impulsive, was a good rough-and-ready scientist, as well as a courageous and dependable officer. “When Mr. Correy relieves you, please inform him that I am taking a watch below, should he need me.” Hydrot was looming up in the television disk, and I wished to be rested and ready for action when we landed.

* * * * *