"Add what I have to tell you to the many theories you've already amassed but for which you can find no scientific proof in knowledge as you know it, and you still may not have the kind of answer for which you're looking. Not unless, gentlemen, the Change has taken place in men as well as in the solar system in which their graves were once already dug. "If, somehow, the little I know is sufficient to give you your answer; an answer which satisfies you completely, then the Change has been to yourselves as well as the ground upon which you walk. If it is not, then perhaps you may never have one. "A little more than ten years ago, this is how it was...." He opened the notebook. * * * * * "I don't think it's a runner, sir. Not unless they've found a new place in Deep Space to bootleg their water. But we're hearing English all right." The communications lieutenant tried for a new track on the com-beam and gambled that there were a few minutes of overload time left in the amptubes. The staccato whisper faded altogether for a moment, then came back a trifle stronger. "Blow 'em out if you have to! Mister Grimes, stand by with auxiliary communications." The Stellar Patrol captain readjusted his own headset and waited. It was all there was to do. The drive had been cut; the ship was vibrationless, soundless, and the crew's breath was shallow. Grimes hunched over the auxiliary unit as though waiting for the main amplifier to blow up in the lieutenant's face. Then it came; weak, but distinct. _Griffin calling ... this is Griffin calling--SFBB-3. Lost ... Fowler Griffin dead. This is SFBB-3 can you hear me...._ "Good Lord, sir--" "Mister Cragin! Can you estimate her position? Grimes, contact the nearest base in this sector. Get a relay from Earth on the flight plan of Special Flight Beyond Barrier Three. Mister Kramer, I want a running plot of the track every three minutes. Cragin!" The Captain punched the red FSA drive-room button and the Patrol ship slid from her drift into a white-hot mushroom of speed. The tower deck vibrated beneath Cragin's feet. "She's further out than I've ever been, sir. I can give you an approximate trajectory, but where she is it's suicide--" "For how far out beyond the Barrier do you have exact knowledge of critical warp speeds, Cragin?" "A light-year maybe, sir. No more. Beyond that nothing makes sense; beyond that the variables will shoot any comptometer on this type ship to hell. Beyond the Barrier it's like tight-rope walking between the dimensions and after you get just so far--" "I know all that. How far out is she?" "Fifty light-years anyway. Maybe two hundred. I can't tell. I think she's holding for dear life to a critical. If she loses it, we lose her for good." "You think she'll make it to this side?" "If she's lost, no, sir. She'll just keep on out there until--" "Until?"