Strain
The essence of military success is teamwork--the essence of that is absolute reliability of every man, every unit of the team, under any strain that may be imposed. And the duty of a good general--?

It was unreasonable, he told himself, to feel no agony of apprehension. He was in the vortex of a time whirlwind and here all stood precariously upon the edge of disaster, but stood quietly, waiting and unbreathing.

No man who had survived a crash, survived bullets, survived the paralyzing rays of the guards, had a right to be calm. And it was not like him to be calm; his slender hands and even, delicate features were those of an aristocrat, those of a sensitive thoroughbred whose nerves coursed on the surface, whose health depended upon the quietness of those nerves.

They threw him into the domed room, and his space boots rang upon the metal floor, and the glare of savage lights bit into his skull scarcely less than the impact from the eyes of the enemy intelligence officer.

The identification papers were pushed across the desk by this guard and the intelligence officer scanned them. "Hm-m-m." The brutish, Saturnian countenance lighted and became interested. The slitted eyes flicked with satisfaction from one to the other of the two captured officers.

"Captain Forrester de Wolf," said the man behind the desk. "Which one of you?"

He looked steadily at the Saturnian and was a little amazed to find himself still calm. "I am he."

"Ah! Then you are Flight Officer Morrison?"

The captain's companion was sweating and his voice had a tremor in it. His youthful, not too bright face twitched. "You got no right to do anything to us. We are prisoners of war captured in uniform in line of combat duty! We treat Saturnians well enough when we grab them!"

This speech or perhaps its undertone of panic was of great satisfaction to the intelligence officer. He stood up with irony in his bearing and shook Captain de Wolf by the hand. Then, less politely but with more interest, bowed slightly to Flight Officer Morrison. The intelligence officer sat down.

"Ah, yes," he said, looking at the papers. "Fortunes of war. You came down into range of the batteries and--well, you came down. You gentlemen don't accuse the Saturnians of a lack in knowing the rules of war, I trust." But there was false candor 
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