They looked at him. In the silence two men in space-suits entered the cabin; stood still, surprised. "What's the matter?" asked one, crawling from his suit. "The plates are working, ain't they? What's wrong?" "What's the flames got to do with it?" demanded Simms. "To hell with the flames! We can transfer to the patrol ship if the _Denebola's_ completely destroyed. We could even navigate her back in space-suits, if she'll still move. Go on, Barfield, send our position." "Mr. Simms," said Wallace, quietly, "I'll give the orders. We'll hear Mr. Markoe's objection. What about the flames, sir?" "Just this, Captain," said Markoe. "If we call a ship out here and transfer to it, what's to stop these things from transfering, too? Any ship that comes near us is done for, the same as the _Denebola_, unless we find some way to destroy them." "So you tell us," growled Simms. "And ask us to sacrifice our lives on your guesses. I won't do it, I tell you! You don't know what these things are, or where they came from. You know nothing about them." "They came from the asteroids, I believe," replied Markoe. "Give me a day or two more. There must be some way of destroying them. And have you forgotten the oath you took? The oath of the spaceman, never to return to port with an unknown disease that might become a plague? These flames are included ... in the spirit of that oath, at least I tell you we can't call a ship's crew out here, possibly to their death!" "That's the answer," said Wallace, firmly. "We call no other ship until these things are gone. Operator, tell Tracolatown we'll call them later. Markoe, it's up to you now." "I can't tell Nunglon the ship's full of funny-colored flames," protested Barfield. "He'll think we're all space-crazy!" "Tell him we haven't our position--that we're working it out," instructed Wallace. "Tell him we're away off the ecliptic, and that it will take time." For the next three days they saw little of Markoe. He spent hours in the airless stern of the ship, where he had set up a rough laboratory. Occasionally he appeared to renew the oxygen tank of his helmet. A glance at his face was sufficient. They asked him nothing. Cargyle joined him frequently, and tried to be of assistance, but the astrophysicist's experiments meant little to the second officer. Once Markoe turned to him and said, tensely, "There's a wave-length, or a modulation, that will break down their field. I know it! But how to find it? How to find it in time!" "Markoe," said Cargyle, "why haven't they attacked the control cabin? It's the one compartment of the ship where you never see them. There must be some reason." Markoe looked at him a moment, then shook his head. "Chance, that's all. They started in the tail of the ship, and they're working forward. There's nothing in the pilot cabin to stop them. I've tried the viso-set's wave-lengths. Doesn't bother them."