"Easy," said Curt Wing quietly.
Dead-Eye drew himself up to his full six feet six so that he towered a full head over Lt. Packer. "Brother," he growled, and his pale blue eyes were cold, "I'll match you Elizabeth against any of these modern guns and I'll kill you so quicker that you'll have to be cremated ahead of time. Why—"
An eerie whistle from the Earth panel halted him. The three turned at the summons, infraction of all space battle procedure except in cases of extreme urgency. Only once before in five years had that whistle sounded during either battle practice or battle. Then it was to announce war with Mercury.
Now....
The visaplate crawled up from black through purple to yellow and white. A voice came through but there was no face accompanying it.
"Signal six-two ... signal six-two...."
"No!" Wing cried out.
"Signal six-two ... signal six-two...."
Wing glanced at the battle visaplate. The Mercurians were in full rout.
We've got them licked, he thought; they're running.