"No you're not. You're slugging the thing inside you that wants to quit. Slashaway, I'm going to give the crew a first-class pep talk. There'll be no stampeding while I'm in command here."
He turned to the radio operator. "Tune in the control room. Tell the captain I want every member of the crew lined up on this screen immediately."
The face in the visiplate paled. "I can't do that, sir. Ship's regulations—"
Lawton transfixed the operator with an irate stare. "The captain told you to report directly to me, didn't he?"
"Yes sir, but—"
"If you don't want to be cashiered, snap into it."
"Yes—yessir."
The captain's startled face preceded the duty-muster visiview by a full minute, seeming to project outward from the screen. The veins on his neck were thick blue cords.
"Dave," he croaked. "Are you out of your mind? What good will talking do now?"
"Are the men lined up?" Lawton rapped, impatiently.