The young officer glanced quickly at an instrument he had previously ignored. Then he said relievedly: "Not this time, sir. The communicator's turned on all right." Bordman said: "Do you think they might be calling you without shifting from ship-frequency? They were talking to the ship, you know." "I'll try, sir." The young man leaned forward and switched to ship-band adjustment of the communicator. Different wave-bands, naturally, were used between a ship and shore, and a ship and its own boats. A booming carrier wave came in instantly. The young officer hastily turned down the volume and words became distinguishable. "... _What the devil's the matter with you? Acknowledge!_" The young officer gulped. Bordman said mildly: "Since he ranks you, just say 'sorry, sir.'" "S-sorry, sir," said Barnes into the microphone. "_Sorry?_" snapped the voice from the ground. "_I've been calling for five minutes! Your skipper will hear about this! I shall--_" Bordman pulled the microphone before him. "My name is Bordman," he observed. "I am waiting for instructions to land. My pilot has been listening on boat-frequency, as was proper. You appear to be calling us on an improper channel. Really--" There was stricken silence. Then babbled apologies from the speaker. Bordman smiled faintly at young Barnes. "It's quite all right. Let's forget it now. But will you give my pilot his instructions?" The voice said with strained formality: "_You're to be brought down by landing-grid, sir. Rocket-landings have been ruled non-permitted by the Sector Chief himself, sir. But we are already landing one boat, sir. Senior Officer Werner is being brought in now, sir. His boat is still two diameters out, sir, and it will take us nearly an hour to get him down without extreme discomfort, sir._" "Then we'll wait," said Bordman. "Hm. Call us again before you start hunting us with the landing-beam. My pilot has a rather promising idea. And will you call us on the proper frequency then, please?" The voice aground said unhappily: "_Yes, sir. Certainly, sir._" The carrier-wave hum stopped. Young Barnes said gratefully: "Thank you, sir! Hell hath no fury like a ranking officer caught in a blunder! He'd have twisted my tail for his mistake, sir, and it could have been bad!" Then he paused. He said uneasily, "But--beg pardon, sir. I haven't any promising ideas. Not that I know of!" "You have an hour to develop one," Bordman told him. Internally, Bordman was startled. There were few occasions on which even one Senior Officer was called in to Sector Headquarters. Interstellar distances being what they were, and thirty light-speeds being practically the best available, Senior Officers necessarily acted pretty much as independent authorities. To call one man in meant all his other work had to go by the board for a matter of months. But two! And Werner?