When Worsel's hard-driven call impinged upon the port admiral's lens, Haynes dropped everything to take the report himself. Characteristically Worsel sent first and Haynes first recorded a complete statement of the successful mission to Jarnevon. Last came personalities, the tale of Kinnison's ordeal and of his present plight.
"Are they following you in force, or can't you tell?"
"Nothing has been detectable, and at the time of our departure there had been no suggestion of any such action," Worsel replied carefully.
"We'll come in force, anyway, and fast. Keep him alive until we meet you," Haynes urged, and disconnected.
It was an unheard-of occurrence for the port admiral to turn over his very busy and extremely important desk to a subordinate without notice and without giving him detailed instructions, but Haynes did it now.
"Take charge of everything, Southworth!" he snapped. "I'm called away—emergency. Kinnison found Boskone—got away—hurt—I'm going after him in the Dauntless. Taking the new flotilla with me. Time indefinite—probably a few weeks."
He strode toward the communicator desk. The Dauntless was, as always, completely serviced and ready for any emergency. Where was that fleet of her sister ships, on its shakedown cruise? He'd shake them down! They had with them the new hospital ship, too—the only Red Cross ship in space that could leg it, parsec for parsec, with the Dauntless.
"Get me Navigations.... Figure best point of rendezvous for the Dauntless and Flotilla ZKD, both at full blast, en route to Lundmark's Nebula. Fifteen minutes departure. Figure approximate time of meeting with speedster, also at full blast, leaving that nebula hour nine fourteen today. Correction! Cancel speedster meeting; we can compute that more accurately later. Advise adjutant. Vice-Admiral Southworth will send order, through channels. Get me Base Hospital.... Lacy, please.... Kinnison's hurt, sawbones, bad. I'm going out after him. Coming along?"
"Yes. How about—"
"On the green. Flotilla ZKD, including your new two-hundred-million-credit hospital, is going along. Slip twelve, Dauntless, eleven and one half minutes from now. Hipe!" And the surgeon general "hiped."