"O.K.," smiled Channing. "It's turned off during flight and we may consider the equipment as being nonexistent." "And, according to the chart, we've got to contact them before the turn-about," offered Arden. "They must have time to deflect their course to Terra." "You think of the nicest complications," said Channing. "I was just about to hope that we could flash them or grab at 'em with a skeeter. But we can't wait until they pass us." "That will be the last hope," admitted Franks. "But say! Did any bright soul think of shooting a fast ship after them from Canalopsis?" "Sure. The answer is the same as Simple Simon's answer to the Pieman: Alas, they haven't any!" "No use asking why," growled Franks. "O.K., Don, we'll go after 'em. I'll have the crew set up a couple of mass detectors at either end of the station. We'll triangulate, and calculate, and hope to hit the right correction factor. We'll find them and keep them in line. You figure out a means of contacting them, huh?" "_I'll_ set up the detectors and _you_ find the means," suggested Don. "No go. You're the director of communications." Don sighed a false sigh. "Arden, hand me my electronics text," he said. "And shall I wipe your fevered brow?" cooed Arden. "Leave him alone," directed Franks. "You distract him." "It seems to me that you two are taking this rather lightly," said Arden. "What do you want us to do? Get down on the floor and chew on the rug? You know us better than that. If we can find the answer to contacting a spaceship in flight, we'll add another flower to our flag. But we can't do it by clawing through the first edition of Henney's 'Handbook of Radio Engineering.' It will be done by the seat of our pants if at all; a pair of side-cutters and a spool of wire, a hunk of string and a lump of solder, a--" "A rag, a bone, and a hank of hair?" asked Franks. "Leave Kipling out of this. He didn't have to cover the whole Solar System. So let's get cooking." Don and Walt left the office just a trifle on the fast side. Arden looked after them, out through the open door, shaking her head until she remembered something that she could do. She smiled and went to her typewriter and pounded out a message back to Williams at Interplanet. It read: "Channing and Franks at work on contacting the _Empress of Kolain_. Will do our best." And she signed it: "Venus Equilateral." * * * * * Unknowing of the storm, the _Empress of Kolain_ sped silently through the void, accelerating constantly at one gee. Hour after hour she was adding to her velocity, building it up to a speed that would make the trip in days, and not weeks. Her drivers flared dull red no more, for there was not atmosphere for the electronic stream to excite. Her few portholes sparkled with light, but they were nothing in comparison to the starry curtain of the background.