"They will if we don't get a move on," the admiral snapped, "and, we can't fight with a green crew. Gotta get these kids back to Terra."

Harrigan leaped to the audio. His orders were short and sharp.

"Drive room: Joe, full speed home, boy. The bubble's busted wide open.

"Quartermaster: Wilson, prepare to issue battle suits.

"Central: Give me the system. Thanks." He cleared his throat. "All hands hear this. A state of war exists between the Solar Federation and the Dark Nebula League. We will attempt to reach Terra base before being cut off by the enemy fleet. However, just in case, we will be ready. Battle stations!"

The next few hours were hectic ones, especially for the few seasoned officers aboard the battleship Albion. The Albion was a fairly new ship. She was fast, heavily armored, and carried the latest guns, three facts which Harrigan hoped would save them from disaster. He realized that HQ had had to break radio silence to notify them of the sudden outbreak of hostilities, but he also knew that the enemy had undoubtedly intercepted the message, plotted the Albion course, and sent a half-dozen of their fastest ships in hot pursuit. That's the way the Dark Nebula League liked to fight: six to one. Harrigan figured that he just might be able to outrun them; but if the League ships did manage to cut them off from Terra ... well, he hated the idea of fighting that bunch of cut-throats with a crew of green kids. Ordinarily, new spacemen were distributed among crews of seasoned men at a ratio of about one in ten. To be in top fighting condition, the Albion should carry four thousand regulars and four hundred greenies. There were five thousand men on board; one hundred and fifty old line officers, fifty newly commissioned officers, and forty-eight hundred Terran youngsters fresh out of ground school.

The officers had done their best to whip the crew into the semblance of a fighting unit. If a fracas did develop, they might squeeze through if the kids could follow orders. But in battle things happened almost too fast to be covered by orders. A man had to think for himself.

Harrigan found himself staring through the forward screen, wishing that three or four thousand hardened space-Marines would suddenly materialize out of thin air. O'Brien came steaming up. He sat down beside the admiral, lit a cigarette and said "Phwooee."

"Right you are," Harrigan answered. "Things sure popped, didn't they?"

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