Saxon realized with chagrin that he had made a slip. He should have said, "Who I am," not "What I am." No human ever doubted that he was a genuine specimen of _homo sapiens_. The engine room telegraph buzzed suddenly, and when the captain answered, Villainowski's voice reached the two men. "Sound the general alarm, Captain. Turn the ship over to the robot control. We're going into the Little Death." "Right," said the captain. He looked pale and worn and older. He snapped off the telegraph, turned to the third. "Sound the general alarm and turn on the public address system, then go to your cabin." The third nodded, reached for the switch. An ugly clangor broke through the _Shooting Star_ from stem to stern, followed immediately by a harsh metallic voice issuing from strategically placed audios. "All officers, members of unlicensed personnel and staff report to your quarters at once and lie on your bunks." There was a series of clicks as the ship went smoothly over to the robot controls. The command ordering everyone to their cabins was repeated three more times. Saxon realized there was no one in the control room, but himself, Murdock, and the captain. "Coming?" asked the captain from the doorway. "In a minute," Murdock replied. The captain departed hastily, and Saxon followed the T.I.S. agent across the deck to the control board, where a single dial was marked off in parsecs. "I'm damned curious about this four dimensional drive," Murdock confessed, as he dropped into an acceleration chair before the dial. "I've been through it before. But I'd like to follow its operation here in the control room as long as possible before we blank out. Are you game?" "Sure," Saxon's voice was eager. He took a seat beside Murdock, staring at the dial marked off in parsecs with fascination. He became conscious of a sobering silence. The robot controls had cut off the jets. A giddy feeling of weightlessness possessed him. Suddenly the radiograph began to click off a message. He saw Murdock frown, tear off the tape, read it. "Good Lord!" the T.I.S. agent burst out. "Read it! We've got to get to Villainowski before we go onto the stellar drive!" He leaped to his feet, went soaring in the air, a pained expression on his face. Murdock had forgotten their weightless condition now that the jets were off. Saxon who had snatched the strip of paper, flashed his eye over the words. IMPERIAL HEADQUARTERS: TO CHIEF J. VILLAINOWSKI. URGENT. ORDERS CANCELLED. TURN BACK TO EARTH WITHOUT DELAY. ALL FIVE COPIES OF STELLAR DRIVE STOLEN. GOVERNMENT CANNOT RISK YOUR LIFE IN DEEP SPACE UNTIL YOU CAN REPLACE PLANS. MUSTAPHA IX. Saxon realized the machine was still clicking off the message over and over again. Murdock had pushed himself to the bulkhead, where he kicked off, gliding through the door. Saxon followed cautiously, conscious of a yellow mist collecting in the control room.