if anything had been preset. There was no green flashing on the deck, where there should have been green.

Oh, well. There could have been cruisers waiting in space, too, to pot him with ship-to-ship missiles. He'd taken one chance, he could take another.

Lance opened a switch and called Base Traffic's frequency. "This is the Cosmos XII, Major Lance Cooper piloting. Just broke out of hype. Can you read me?"

He repeated the message for several minutes.

Finally, he got an answer. A startled voice whipped back at him through crackling static: "Cosmos XII, this is Traffic. Who did you say you were up there?"

Lance hardly knew whether he felt more like laughing or crying. He was fairly close to home, anyhow. They did have space traffic here. And being pretty much of an optimist, he also decided that it was a time-track where he had been known. Only being so long overdue, he had probably been given up for lost.

On this premise, he could visualize all the consternation and excitement now in progress downstairs; the personnel were likely falling all over each other in the stampede to pass the word around.

"I'm Major Lance Cooper," he announced over the mike.

There was a long pause.

"Repeat that, please."

"This is Lance Cooper, Major, Space Service. I'm up here in the Cosmos XII."

"B-b-but you can't be."

"Who says I can't. Say, what's the matter with you monkeys? I want to come in."

Another voice took over on the channel. "The lieutenant's right. You actually do sound like Cooper, whoever you are!"

Lance laughed openly. "I've lived with him all my life, why shouldn't I? You think I'm a ghost?"

"Well ... no. We know you're real. We're getting a blip from you. Only thing is—"

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