e. On the visiplates hundreds of stars blazed in
vari-colored points of hard, bright light.

"Baby Two acknowledging," Deston said. "First Officer Deston and three
passengers. Deconned to zero. Report, please."

"Baby Three. Second Officer Jones and four passengers. Deconned to----"

"Thank God, Herc!" Formality vanished. "With _you_ to astrogate us, we
may have a chance. But how'd you make it? I'd've sworn a flying saucer
couldn't've got down from the Top in the time we had."

"Same thing right back at you, Babe. I didn't have to come down. We were
in Baby Three when it happened." Full vision was on; a big,
square-jawed, lean, tanned face looked out at them from the screen.

"Huh? How come? And who's 'we'?"

"My wife and I." Second Officer Theodore "Hercules" Jones was somewhat
embarrassed. "I got married, too, day before yesterday. After the way
the old man chewed you out, though, I knew he'd slap irons on me
without saying a word, so we kept it dark and hid out in Baby Three.
These three are all we could find before our meters went high red. I
deconned Bun, then----"

"Bun?" Barbara broke in. "Bernice Burns? How _wonderful_!"

"Formerly Bernice Burns." The face of a platinum-blonde beauty appeared
on the screen beside Jones'. "And _am_ I glad to see _you_, Barbara,
even if I did just meet you yesterday! I didn't know whether I'd ever
see another girl's face or not!"

"Let's cut the chat," Deston said then. "Herc, give me course, blast,
and time for rendezvous ... hey! My watch stopped!"

"So did mine," Jones said. "So just hold one gravity on eighteen dash
forty-seven dash two seventy-one and I'll correct you as necessary."

After setting course, and still thinking of his watch, Deston said; "But
it's nonmagnetic. It never stopped before."

The gray-haired man spoke. "It was never in such a field before. You
see, those two observations of fact invalidate twenty-four of the
thirty-eight best theories of hyper-space. But tell me--am I correct in
saying that none of you were in direct contact with the metal of the
ship when it happened?"

"We avoid it in case of trouble. You? Name and job?" Deston jerked his
head at the younger stranger.

"I know _that_ much. Henry Newman. Crew-chief, normal space jobs,
unlimited."

"Your passengers, Herc?"

"Vincent Lopresto, financier, and his two bodyguards. They were sleeping
in their suits, on air-mattresses. Grounders. Don't like subspace--or
space, either."