Markham Gray was vaguely familiar with the fact that every Solar System spacecraft was theoretically a warcraft in emergency, but it was utterly fantastic that-- He heaved himself to his feet, grunting with the effort, and, disregarding the repeated command that passengers proceed to their quarters, made his way forward to the bridge, ignoring the hysterical confusion in passengers and crew members hurrying up and down the ship's passageways. It was immediately obvious, there at the craft's heart, that this was no farce, at least not a deliberate one. Captain Roger Post, youthful officer in command of the _Neuve Los Angeles_, Lieutenant Hans Bormann and the two crew members on watch were white-faced and shaken, momentarily confused in a situation which they had never expected to face. The two officers stood before the bridge vision screen watching, wide-eyed, that sector of space containing the other vessel. They had enlarged it a hundred-fold. At the elderly journalist's entrance, the skipper had shot a quick, irritated glance over his shoulder and had begun to snap something; he cut it off. Instead, he said, "When did you first sight the alien ship, Mr. Gray?" "_Alien?_" "Yes, alien. When did you first sight it? It is obviously following us in order to locate our home planet." There was extreme tension in the captain's voice. Markham Gray felt cold fingers trace their way up his back. "Why, why, I must have noticed it several hours ago, Captain. But ... an _alien_!... I...." He peered at the enlarged craft on the screen. "Are you sure, Captain? It seems remarkably like our own. I would say--" The captain had spun back around to stare at the screen again, as though to reassure himself of what he had already seen. "There are no other ships in the vicinity," he grated, almost as though to himself. "Besides that, as far as I know, and I should know, there are no Earth craft that look exactly like that. There are striking similarities, I'll admit, to our St. Louis class scouts, but those jets on the prow--there's nothing like them either in existence or projected." His voice rose in an attempt to achieve decisiveness, "Lieutenant Bormann, prepare to attack." Suddenly, the telviz blared. _Calling the Neuve Los Angeles. Calling the Neuve Los Angeles. Be unafraid. We are not hostile._ There was quiet on the bridge of the earth ship. Screaming quiet. It was seemingly hours before they had recovered even to the point of staring at one another. Hans Bormann gasped finally, unbelievingly, "How could they possibly know the name of our ship? How could they possibly know the Amer-English language?" The captain's face was white and frozen. He said, so quietly that they could hardly make it out, "That's not all. Our alarms still haven't been touched off, and our estimators aren't functioning; we don't know how large they are nor how far away. It's unheard of--.Somehow they've completely disrupted our instruments."