"Signal her to cut her drive before we lose her altogether. Grimes--" But Grimes was too slow at resetting comptometer cams. Cragin plotted a trajectory in his head and kept alert for the least change in volume of the comps. Deliberately he brought the nose of the hurtling Patrol craft swinging about under the grazing touch of his fingertips and sought to keep the big ship on her warp while he estimated an intersection point. "Sir," Kramer was howling, "I can't raise--yes, there! She's cut her drive. But she's not bow jetting a squirt!" "Just get the M-fields ready. I'll tell you when," Cragin said. If there had been any excitement in his voice before, it had disappeared. He knew they'd catch her now. He was on the Patrol ship's back and he knew he could ride it down. "You've got maybe a dozen seconds, Cragin," the captain told him. "At a drift her critical will be shot to blazes--" "M-fields!" The Patrol ship jolted, and Comptometer Five checked in and rose to a scream as the struggle to maintain critical speed with the suddenly increased load was fought. And won. Cragin manually checked in Six just to make sure, and kicked both ships into the trajectory that would fall them through the Barrier. Then it was all over, and a tiny, bullet-shaped, explorer-type craft of less than a fifth the Patrol ship's length was secured alongside, her aft tubes still smoking. Cragin relinquished his command and waited, while two space suited crew members picked their way along the M-field on their portable mag units. It took them less than ten minutes to get back. They carried another form between them; a form smaller than a man's, and limp. "It's his daughter all right," Cragin said as the Patrol captain waited at his side while the two crewmen undogged the girl's fully-transparent helmet. "Name is Lin, I think. Lin Griffin, student of her father's, and up with the best of 'em, they say. What in hell they were doing out there only she'll be able to tell us. If she'll tell us." "If she lives to," the captain said. The oval shaped, sharp featured face was pasty with space fatigue, and the large, wide set eyes were closed in unconsciousness. The short-bobbed, copper-hued hair that clung close to her slender neck and set off the wide forehead was still well groomed, but the high cheekbones on either side of her small nose showed sharply through the taut, smooth skin that covered them, and bespoke perhaps days of near exhaustion. Cragin fastened his eyes on the girl's wide, generous mouth, waiting for some sign of returning consciousness. But there was none. "Hardly out of her teens," the captain muttered. "Too damn young to die. Get her to my quarters; notify the ship's space surgeon and have him put a corpsman on full duty. Want to know soon as she comes around." "Aye, sir." Cragin turned to his superior. "Special orders?" "Have Kramer make a signal for a hospital ship and sign it with a priority one. That's all."