"No need, darling. Two other men out there. The old man probably won't need it--I think I got him into the safe quick enough--the other guy and I will help each other. So lie down there on the bunk and take it easy until I come back here and help you get the gunkum off. So-long for half an hour, pet." Forty-five minutes later, while all four were still cleaning up the messes of foam, something began to buzz sharply. Deston stepped over to the board and flipped a switch. The communicator came on. Since everything aboard a starship is designed to fail safe, they were, of course, in normal space. On the visiplates hundreds of stars blazed in vari-colored points of hard, bright light. "Baby Two acknowledging," Deston said. "First Officer Deston and three passengers. Deconned to zero. Report, please." "Baby Three. Second Officer Jones and four passengers. Deconned to----" "Thank God, Herc!" Formality vanished. "With _you_ to astrogate us, we may have a chance. But how'd you make it? I'd've sworn a flying saucer couldn't've got down from the Top in the time we had." "Same thing right back at you, Babe. I didn't have to come down. We were in Baby Three when it happened." Full vision was on; a big, square-jawed, lean, tanned face looked out at them from the screen. "Huh? How come? And who's 'we'?" "My wife and I." Second Officer Theodore "Hercules" Jones was somewhat embarrassed. "I got married, too, day before yesterday. After the way the old man chewed you out, though, I knew he'd slap irons on me without saying a word, so we kept it dark and hid out in Baby Three. These three are all we could find before our meters went high red. I deconned Bun, then----" "Bun?" Barbara broke in. "Bernice Burns? How _wonderful_!" "Formerly Bernice Burns." The face of a platinum-blonde beauty appeared on the screen beside Jones'. "And _am_ I glad to see _you_, Barbara, even if I did just meet you yesterday! I didn't know whether I'd ever see another girl's face or not!" "Let's cut the chat," Deston said then. "Herc, give me course, blast, and time for rendezvous ... hey! My watch stopped!" "So did mine," Jones said. "So just hold one gravity on eighteen dash forty-seven dash two seventy-one and I'll correct you as necessary." After setting course, and still thinking of his watch, Deston said; "But it's nonmagnetic. It never stopped before." The gray-haired man spoke. "It was never in such a field before. You see, those two observations of fact invalidate twenty-four of the thirty-eight best theories of hyper-space. But tell me--am I correct in saying that none of you were in direct contact with the metal of the ship when it happened?" "We avoid it in case of trouble. You? Name and job?" Deston jerked his head at the younger stranger. "I know _that_ much. Henry Newman. Crew-chief, normal space jobs, unlimited." "Your passengers, Herc?"