"It's a short-cut," said Westervelt evasively. He found a spare chair to sit in and inquired as to what might be new. Rosenkrantz told him of putting through a few calls to planets near Trident, asking D.I.R. men stationed on them to line up spaceships for possible use, either to go after Harris or to ship necessary equipment for plumbing the ocean. He offered to let Westervelt scan the tapes of his traffic. "That's a good idea," said the youth gratefully. "Even if I don't spot an opening, it will look like useful effort." "Yeah," agreed the other. "Time drags, doesn't it. Wonder how they're making out down in the cable tunnels?" "It can't last much longer." "That's what this here Harris is saying too, I should think. Now, _there's_ one guy who is really packed away!" "Well...." "Oh, they've pulled some good ones around here, but I have a feeling about this one," insisted the operator. "I'd bet ten to one they won't spring Harris." Westervelt took the tapes to a playback screen and dragged his chair over. "I told Smitty they ought to offer to swap for him," he said. "At the time, I meant it looked like the perfect way to unload undesirables. Come to think of it, though, I wouldn't mind going myself." "What the hell for?" asked Rosenkrantz. Westervelt realized that he had nearly given himself away. "Oh ... just for the chance to see the place," he said. "Nobody else has ever seen these Tridentians. How else could somebody like me get a position as an interstellar ambassador." "Maybe Harris wants the job for himself. He sure went looking for it!" The phone buzzed quietly. Rosenkrantz answered, then said, "It's for you." Westervelt went to the screen. It was Smith. "I thought you must have found a way out, Willie. Where did you get to?" Westervelt explained that he was looking at the tapes of the Trident calls, to familiarize himself with the background. "I figured there was plenty of time for me to--" He broke off as he saw Rosenkrantz straighten up to focus in a call from space. "Joe is receiving something right now. I'll let you know if it has anything to do with Trident." "Department 99, Terra," the operator was saying when Westervelt turned from the phone, as if the mere call signal had not satisfied the party at the other end. There seemed to be a lot of action on the screen. Men were running in various directions in what appeared to be a large hall with an impressive stairway. "Yoleen!" Rosenkrantz flung over his shoulder. "Tell Smitty!" "Mr. Smith!" said Westervelt, turning back to the phone screen. "Joe says it's Yoleen coming in. Maybe you'd like to see it yourself. Something looks wrong." "Coming!" said Smith, and the phone went dark. Westervelt looked around to see that most of the running figures had hidden themselves. A voice was coming over, and he listened with the operator.