And at that time there occurred a rarity. Not an impossibility like the chances of collision with a meteor, those things happen only once in a lifetime, and Channing had had his collision. Nor was it as remote as getting a royal flush on the deal. It happened, not often, but it did happen to some ships occasionally. Another ship passed within detector range. The celestial globe glimmered faintly and showed a minute point at extreme range. Automatic marker-spheres appeared concentrically within the celestial globe and colures and diameters marked the globe off into octants. A dim red line appeared before the object, giving the probable course of the object. Bells rang briefly, and the automatic meteor-circuits interpreted the orbit of the oncoming object and decided that the object was not dangerous. Then they relaxed. Their work was done until another object came within range for them to inspect. They were no longer interested, and they forgot about the object with the same powers of complete oblivion that they would have exerted on a meteor of nickel and iron. They were mechanically incapable of original thought. So the object, to them, was harmless. Channing looked up at the luminescent spot, sought the calibration spheres, made a casual observation, and forgot about it. To him it was a harmless meteor. Even the fact that his own velocity was a thousand miles per second, and the object's velocity was the same, coming to them on a one hundred and seventy degree course and due to pass within five thousand miles did not register. Their total velocity of two thousand miles did not register just because of that rarity with which ships pass within detector range, while meteors are encountered often. Had Channing been thinking about the subject in earnest, he would have known--for it is only man, with all too little time, who uses such velocities. The universe, with eternity in which to work her miracle, seldom moves in velocities greater than forty or fifty miles per second. Channing forgot it, and as the marker-spheres switched to accommodate the approaching object, he turned to more important things. In the other ship, Hellion Murdoch frowned. He brightened, then, and depressed the plunger that energized his solar beam and projector. He did not recognize the oncoming object for anything but a meteor, either, and his desire was to find out how his invention worked at top speeds. Kingman asked: "Another one?" "Uh-huh," said Murdoch idly. "I want to check my finders." "But they can't miss."