Never had the mind of man conceived so horrible a doom as was reaching for Earth. Never had a greater need for Earth's valiant champions been needed. And yet the only ones who could fight the menace--were five futile humans, prisoners on another world. My name is Robert Rance. You've heard of me, of course--through the recent weird affair of the Crimson Comet, if for nothing else. It seems to me rather ironic: for five years I have been reporting popular science items on the split-wave band of non-visual broadcasting. Station WANA-NYC--the main outlet of _Amalgamated Newscasters' Association_, for whom I work. I struggled for personal publicity. Then I was plunged--certainly entirely agains…
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