McClellan bit into his cigar and nodded. He opened a cabinet and laid out two large sheets.
"The pilot who made these barely got out with his life," he said. "I don't suppose you'd care to tell me where you've been or what you've got in mind, Standish."
Without answering Standish gazed at the maps and the photograph. Presently he looked up.
"Prepare for a big push," he said. "Get all your guns and men ready for immediate movement. And keep your observers watching this point, Sector Five"—he indicated the area with his forefinger—"As soon as the firing stops there, go through."
He turned then and ran back to the ship.
Straight into the stratosphere Standish guided the ship. As he continued to climb higher into the night sky, Ga-Marr watched puzzled, but made no comment. One thousand, two, three thousand miles slid behind them. At length the Earthman turned.
"Set off the emergency rocket flares," he ordered.
Ga-Marr stared. "Are you mad, Mason? The Sirians will see us and...."
"Which is just what I want," Standish replied. "Hurry, man!"
Obediently Ga-Marr strode back along the passageway, began to push contact buttons at regular intervals along the bulkhead wall. As he did, long streamers of crimson fire erupted from the Phantom's side. In a moment the destroyer was a flaming mass. Standish set his controls and took down two space suits.