Sanaron was a complete stellar system, eight habitable planets well inhabited by every possible form of sentient life. The star, Sanaron, was a nondescript G-zero that would not have had even a number in the Terran catalogs before the conquest of space, but Sanaron was a full-grown star in the flush of its energic cycle. Once the raving centroid of raw energy erupted from the _Lunalight_ fell into the gravitational field of Sanaron it would drop into the star. And then mankind would see, a supernova in operation--for a brief instant before this system cremated itself. The Black Alarm! Across the galaxy it went. Guardians from every base in Sector One alerted and took off within a matter of minutes. Guardians from joining sectors moved into Sector One, spreading out through the sector to keep the sector protected; Guardians from outlying sectors moved in, again spreading out. Thinned but active, the Guardians released useful personnel to go out and fight the Black Alarm. "Charlemagne!" "Now what?" "Can I help?" "Yes," came the cryptic reply; "stay out of our way." Steve snarled, but he got no reply. A gout of energy flashed past his viewport, blinding him. Then he realized that he was unprotected, and only a nuisance here. But-- "Go along with him," said William Wrightwood. "Aid him, and--" Steve laughed bitterly; swapped ends, and flashed along the line toward Sanaron. He dropped down upon Wrightwood's hotel and dashed along the corridor. He shouldered his way into the suite with a yell that brought servants and hotel detectives running. It also brought William Wrightwood from his bed, clad in a pair of pale blue silk pajamas. Somehow it seemed appropriate to flee a holocaust in a pair of passionate pajamas, and for the first time in years Steve saw a bit of humor in his father's mien. "Black Alarm," he said breathlessly. He shoved Wrightwood back into the bedroom and shut the door on the incoming help. "Can't save 'em all," said Steve, working his false-fear act for all it was worth. "Slip out with me and we'll es--" "Good boy, I knew you had what it took." Wrightwood started to look for clothing. "No time," snapped Steve. "_Lunalight_ blew up ten minutes spacedrive out of Sanaron. The Guardians have the Black Alarm running, but the magma will get here first. That's raving death from an exploding sun for a billion people living on eight planets. Come on." Wrightwood looked out of a window frantically. Everything seemed so solid, so safe. Yet-- He turned and nodded at Steve. * * * * * With a sly grin Wrightwood could not see, Steve led the older man out into the chill of night and relished the shiver as the cold bit in through the silk pajamas and struck at the man. Then they were into the Guardian craft and into space. "Where--?" Steve shrugged. "Want to see it?" he asked. Horrified, Wrightwood nodded.