"Got him, sir!" came a young voice, almost playful. "Knocked him out before he could fire; beat the damn computer, too." The man, facing the controls of Auxiliary Laser Deployment, had obviously not seen the two generals re-enter.
"And just exactly what have you GOT?" said Frank disparagingly. The soldier whirled in his chair, and for a moment his face registered alarm. But very quickly the look of boyish confidence returned.
"One of those German torpedo-ships, Admiral. Neutralized the missile, too."
"Correct sir," added the main gunnery officer. Frank started to say something, but Hayes lightly touched his arm.
"That's very good shooting, gunner. But what would have happened if another 'torpedo ship' came out of warp while you were celebrating? I assure you, you'll have no time for games tomorrow. And to be sure that I make my point, I'm going to assign you a quota. Knock out twelve more targets tomorrow, and you might even retain your present rank. Do I make myself quite clear?"
The young man looked confused, turned to the gunnery officer as for support. But aware of Frank's eyes upon him, this older man nodded sternly, and the gunner had no choice.
"Yes, Mr. Secretary." Angry, humiliated, he turned back to his station. I'LL GET MORE THAN TWELVE, YOU OVERSTUFFED SON OF A BITCH. Such were his thoughts all that morning, and the thoughts that carried over, and were turned to hatred in the midst of the next day's fighting.
Returning after a time to the Intercom Studio, Hayes addressed the assembly again, this time in different tone and with stronger words. And like pondering horses to the whip, they responded.
But not all of them alike.
*