“No response to inquiries, sir,” Communications announced. Broh mulled that over. Coupled with the signs of severe damage, everything indicated that they were looking at a dead ship, a wandering derelict. He put the thought to the council.

“It could be a clever trap,” suggested the second observer. “The damage could have been falsified to lure us close enough to be taken before we had a chance to signal. Such a ploy would be typical of the AAnn.”

“If that’s the case,” said Broh, “we’ll know in less than a timepart.”

If the alien was a thangner hiding in its silken burrow, it was a most patient one. It continued to coast as they approached, its engines apparently quite dead. Not a hint of energy issued from the three cone projectors.

“If that’s a decoy, it’s fooled me,” Communications muttered.

Broh frowned inwardly. It was not the communicator’s place to offer such a comment. He would have to speak with the officer later.

“Still nothing on all bands,” the communicator said coolly. “Trying unassigned frequencies now. I’ll run the whole spectrum.”

The images on screen two shifted. “There appears,” the analyzer pointed out judiciously, “to be damage to the main body of the vessel as well as to the projection units.”

Broh made a clicking sound, gestured. “Bring us around toward the main body, then.”

Slowly the Zinramm changed direction toward the stern of the strange craft Now they could see a few weak lights glowing from behind intact ports. These were located mostly near the upper rearmost section of the ship. The ports were circular instead of triangular, but no one on the Zinramm’s bridge made the obvious lewd comments. The main body was larger than that of the Zinramm—larger than that of most Thranx vessels—but, save for the few dimly illuminated ports, the alien craft was dark as night.

Broh whistled into the communicator that hung from his headset to activate the proper section of the Zinramm’s internal communications system. “Outside? Anzeljermeit, I want a burrowing party of five.”

“Five, Captain?” came the querulous acknowledgment.

“Five should be sufficient I do not believe the damage to this alien is camouflage. And if it is, it will make no difference how many are in the group.”

“Arms, sir?”

Broh hesitated. For this he had prescribed procedure to draw upon.

“Small arms only. In one-tenth of a timepart. Lock six.”

“We’ll be ready, sir.”

Broh rose from his saddle, turned to the science council. “I have no power to compel you but I would like it very much if you—”

The second observer cut him off with a concomitant gesture of apology. “This is what we live for, Captain. Such a moment is the joy of a life. You could not keep us from boarding that marvelous mystery if you wished to. There is hardly a need to ask us to accompany you.”

“I thought as much.” Broh’s gesture indicated mild amusement mixed with high gratification. “The law requires that I ask.”