combustion firearms. Find a man. Now!"

And the order went rattle-rattle, click-click, wink, blink ... and reached out and touched Doctor John Ward.

Although Colonel Ward's training had filled three straight days, there was one thing they forgot to tell him—what do you think about, really, when someone fires a cannon in your face?

A knock came at the door. Ward rubbed his face back into an expression of awareness.

"Come."

Tahn entered briskly and strode to the opposite side of the table. His eyes held a level, challenging look.

"Gliders say there are Grimnal coming up behind us along the coast. About—uh—two hours distant."

"How many?"

"There are four firsts, five seconds, twelve frigates and some corvettes."

Ward patiently tapped the table.

"How many corvettes?"

"Twenty-three."

Ward was thoughtful for a moment.

"We still have them. But it still is not their whole force."

"We hit them?"

I'd better answer this one right, he told himself. They were now just below Pelo Break, about two hours from the Passage. There was about an hour of daylight left.

"After the sun dies," he said, avoiding the word "wait," "we will swing to meet this new force. If the wind holds straight and steady, we will come across to them like sharks in the night."

"Sharks?"

Ward grinned.

"A very savage deep sea fish of my world."

 Prev. P 8/19 next