Foyle stopped dancing and crooning. He stared in dismay. He leaped to the flare panel and slapped buttons. Distress signals, landing, take-off, and quarantine flares burst from the hull of the "Nomad" in a madness of white, red and green light, pulsing, pleading... and "Vorga-T: 1339" passed silently and implacably, stern jets flaring again as it accelerated on a sunward course.