"Better get him into an interstation flitter and bring him over. Or is Doc Caldwell there?" "No, he isn't!" "Bring him over anyway. I'll broadcast a call for the doc." "What'll we do without him?" asked Fuller in a helpless tone. "What'll you do with him in an unconscious condition?" asked McBride unsympathetically. "Before Carlson can do anything, we've got to bring him into the open. Besides, we won't be ready for Carlson until we get the mess cleared up." "O.K.," said Fuller in an abashed tone. He hung up, and McBride snapped the button that sent a loud-speaker call through the entire system. "Is Doc Caldwell within hearing? Call McBride." Automatic tapes took up the call and repeated it at intervals until the doctor heard and put in a call to McBride. "Yes, John?" "Doc, where are you?" "Station 27." "What's doing?" "Few minor cuts and a fractured skull." "What does that mean in time?" "Half hour." "Then take it, and then get to 1 as soon as you can. Carlson needs attention." "Right-o!" McBride called Station 9 again. "Fuller? Look, Bob, how's 9?" "Not good," said Fuller glumly. "Only one thing outbalances the rest. The alphatron went up with the rest of the stuff or Carlson would have been burned to a crisp by now. That means we'll have to run over to 1 and get a new alphatron." "Can you repair it?" "Nope. The field coils are melted right down into a copper ring and the insulation, which was vaporized, is now deposited all over the walls of the station in about two hundred atomic thicknesses. The latter is the worst, I think. That means that every single relay contact in the place has got to be gone over with trichloroethylene and a five-hundred-point file." "O.K., Bob. Send Tiny Hanson over with Carlson and we'll send him back with the alphatron. Need anything else?" "Might send something that'll either precipitate or absorb the smell of insulation. The whole joint stinks." "Cheer up," said McBride. "Think of how it would stink if we were using rubber like the old boys did. That, Bob, would really make your eyes water! No, I haven't anything here that you haven't there. It'll go away as the atmosphere clarifier takes up the impurities. Better keep a close watch on the filter screens, though, or you'll get the system fouled and the atmosphere will not be cleared." "O.K. We're about to start right now. Tiny will be over in just as long as it takes to go around the lens." "Wait a minute! Cut across, Bob. After all, the lens is down, and we needn't worry about crossing direct." * * * * * The phone rang again. McBride picked it up and bellowed: "Hello!" "Dr. McBride? This is Charles Holloway." McBride swallowed. Holloway was the planet governor at Pluto. "Yes?" he said in a quieter tone. "You are aware that Pluto is without his artificial sun?"