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"She's calling us." That was Paul Koreff's voice, out of the squawk-box on the desk. "Standard Sword-World impulse-code. Interrogative: What ship are you? Informative: her screen combination. Request: Please communicate." "All right," Harkaman said. "Let's be polite and communicate. What's her screen-combination?" Koreff's voice gave it, and Harkaman punched it out.
And Ham O'Brien! No, he didn't have to blame himself for O'Brien. O'Brien was one of Nick Emmert's boys. And he hadn't picked Nick, either. The squawk-box on the desk made a premonitory noise, and a feminine voice advised him that Mr. Coombes and his party had arrived. "All right; show them in." Coombes entered first, tall suavely elegant, with a calm, untroubled face.
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