"Have Kramer make a signal for a hospital ship and sign it with a priority one. That's all."
"Yes, sir. You know she isn't beautiful but she's not bad."
"Too damn young to die. Tell the crew were back on SOP."
"As she sails, sir," Cragin said, and wondered if the girl would die, at that.
II
In old-fashioned black letters, the legend on the thick metalo glass door said OFFICE OF THE ADMIRALTY, SPACE ARM. Cragin swung past it as though it had said Control Room and an officer of the day clad in an Earth Headquarters uniform told him that an Admiral Kirkholland would see him immediately.
Kirkholland's name was on the next door, and under it in smaller letters the single word, "Intelligence." What the hell, Cragin mused, why argue.
"At ease lieutenant. Sit down, cigarette?" Big, thought Cragin. Tough old bird, red faced, cropped white hair, chief pilot's rockets pinned to the plain front of his tunic. Cragin wondered how long he'd been flying the eight-foot plastaloy desk.
He accepted the cigarette and sat.