"Communications here!"
"Stand by to transmit."
"Spread beam," ordered Hartnett.
Scott cursed silently. "Spread beam."
"Aye, aye, Sir...." The voice of the radioman sounded strangled.
Scott read from the flimsy in a flat voice, a note of astonishment creeping in as he finished the message.
"TORAN LONG, SENIOR CONTROL, LUNA BASE. AM STANDING BY OFF OBERON READY TO LOAD ISOTOPE X-R ON BOARD DESTROYER "ARTEMIS" HAVE NOT MET THE ENEMY AND HAVE SUFFERED NO CASUALTIES. ONE AUXILIARY TUBE ON THE "ORION" HAS BLOWN BUT THE "JOVE" AND "MINERVA" ARE STANDING BY TO EFFECT EMERGENCY REPAIRS. HAVE DOCK SPACE AVAILABLE FOR REPAIR OF "ORION" L PLUS 21 2235 SIDEREAL. SIGNED C. HARTNETT COMMODORE RED SIX. END MESSAGE."
Scott wondered wildly if Hartnett had not suddenly lost his mind. Red Six was the Code name for the Task Force that included five Terran dreadnaughts, and the part about the blown tube and the repairs added up to just so much lunacy. The Cats had the cipher ... there wasn't much doubt of that, and had Hartnett invited every Martian captain in the quadrant to come blasting down on them with all tubes blowing, he couldn't have phrased it better!
Leaving the stunned Scott to ponder his strange madness, Commodore Hartnett hurried down into the cluttered gun-deck. Drew, at the remote controls of the Artemis, was ready for action when he arrived. Time was important now, thought Hartnett.
"Now get that can down there ... and fast!"