"Full speed?" groaned Clemens, as the ship swung, and they felt the pull of acceleration. "The vibration, Sir! Those torpedoes."
Jon grinned. "You know you don't give a hang about those torpedoes, Mister Clemens—just so we land them where they'll do the job."
The Lieutenant-Commander looked pained. "Of course, Sir," he agreed quickly, and added with an effort: "But full speed with no visibility!" He started as an excited voice rang in his headset, and automatically relayed the message McPartland could hear clearly through the still open switches of the intra-ship: "Radio reports Mars Base has observed us, and is asking for orders."
"No orders," Jon snapped. "They can't help."
"Lieutenant Browne's compliments, Sir," responded Radio Officer Holdern eloquently, "and good luck."
His words were followed by low exclamations from stations all over the ship. The Avenger was again enveloped in the pitchy nightmare. Jon put his hand on the ship phone, aware that Reynolds' fingers once more were drumming his calculator keys, and Clemens was breathing quickly, lightly, in time to the quickened beat of the rocket jets.
There wasn't long to wait this time. The Navigation Officer's unhurried, emotionless words floated into the Control room: "Ready for run, Sir."
McTavish was cut in on a three way connection. "Ready to fire torpedoes, Sir," he said immediately.
"Fire at positions," Jon told him.
He felt the sweep of the ship as she turned, and imagined Parek, waiting quietly for his alarm.