“I’ve given the order to evacuate. When you get here tomorrow, we’ll have a couple of technicians standing by to refuel you—.” He paused. “I assume that’ll be necessary.”

“Certainly advisable,” she said, speaking out of a haze. “If we have time.”

“Okay, we’ll take care of it. I don’t suppose you can do anything to speed things up?”

“You mean get there more quickly? No. We’re locked into our present flight plan.”

“I understand. Well, it’s all right. We don’t expect the flare to arrive until about 0930.”

She let a few seconds pass. “Are we talking total loss of the station?”

The return transmission took several minutes. “Yes,” he said, stumbling a bit. He was having trouble maintaining his composure. “We see little possibility that Renaissance can survive. Well, let me be honest. This time tomorrow, the station will have been blown away.” His head sank forward, and he seemed to be looking up at her. “Thank God you’re here, Captain. At least we’ll get our people out. If you arrive on schedule, we think we can have your ship fueled and be on our way three hours before it arrives. Should be plenty of time.

“We’ll have everyone ready to go. If you need anything else, let the ops officer know, or myself, and we’ll see that you get it.” He got up, and the imager followed him as he came around the desk. “Thanks, Captain. I don’t know what we’d have done if you hadn’t gotten here when you did.”

The reply lamp flashed. He was finished. Did she have anything to say?

The engines were silent, and the only sound in the ship was the electronic burble of the instruments on the bridge and the steady hum of the air ducts. She wanted to tell him, to blurt out the truth, let him know there wasn’t room for everybody. Get it over with.

But she didn’t. She needed time to think. “Thank you, Professor,” she said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”