A gray-haired Fleet Admiral looked up from papers on his desk.
"Yes?"
Don Mathers rapped, "Miro class Kraden in sector A22-K223, sir. I'm lying about fifty miles off. Undetected thus far—I think. He hasn't fired on me yet, at least."
The Admiral was already doing things with his hands. Two subalterns came within range of the screen, took orders, dashed off. The Admiral was rapidly firing orders into two other screens. After a moment, he looked up at Don Mathers again.
"Hang on, Lieutenant. Keep him under observation as long as you can. What're your exact coordinates?"
Don gave them to him and waited.
A few minutes later the Admiral returned to him. "Let's take a look at it, Lieutenant."
Don Mathers adjusted the screen to relay the Kraden cruiser. His palms were moist now, but everything was going to plan. He wished that he could take another drink.
The Admiral said, "Miro class, all right. Don't get too close, Lieutenant. They'll blast you to hell and gone. We've got a task force within an hour of you. Just hang on."
"Yes, sir," Don said. An hour. He was glad to know that. He didn't have much time in which to operate.