"Better come to the bridge and sit," Johnson said softly.
On the bridge, he poured Harrigan a stiff drink and cautioned, "Swallow that, and get ready."
Harrigan complied, puzzled. No sooner had he placed his glass on the table than a small but virile mule kicked him in the stomach.
"Suffering ... what was that?" he gasped.
Johnson smiled. "Hyper-drive. Apparently Tech hasn't got the bugs worked out yet, but it's good enough for me. Only four hours to Terra."
"Well, well," Harrigan mused. He rose and looked at the swirling grayness outside the ports. "Same deal on the other end?"
"Yeah. A little wrench in the gut, but you get used to it."
Harrigan said, "Well, well," again and sat down.
"Admiral," Johnson hesitated, "no offense, now, you understand, but I have been wondering what the Albion was doing way out here on Antares III. I understood that you were coming into Terra from the other side of Sector I when the fracas started."
"We were. But when the League took Polaris Base and cut us off we had to...."