"Took Polaris Base! The League didn't take Polaris Base. They had a dozen or so cruisers in that area, but they didn't tackle the Base. Didn't even make a pass at it."
Harrigan slowly dropped his head into his hands.
"Oh my God," he moaned, "and I lost two hundred men on a bad guess. I deserve to be broken to a Spaceman third class for this." He jumped up and paced the bridge. "Great guns, what a fool I am! Polaris intact and I risk a ship-load of green men on a bad guess. This washes me up in the Force, that's for damn sure."
"Oh, I don't think so, Admiral." Johnson smiled. "In fact I think that...."
"I don't give a damn what you think, Commander. The Force is no place for fools. I'm done." And Harrigan slammed off the bridge towards his quarters.
Johnson smiled faintly and poured himself a drink.
It was a tired and bedraggled admiral who stepped off the Avalon four hours later into the sunlit bustle of Terra Base I. He felt pride well up in him at the sight of the powerful base, the battlewagons and cruisers and squat tubs, some with their guts spread on the steel docks, waiting for the 'drive installation. Crane winches clanked and howled, welding torches flashed, and many-wheeled trailers sped about with ponderous equipment. But the activity was not frantic; it was efficient and orderly.
He turned for a word with O'Brien, who was now puffing down the gangway, when a bright young Spaceman First stepped up and saluted with a grin. "Admiral Garrison's regards to Admiral Harrigan and Captain O'Brien, and would they report to HQ at once."
"Well, here it comes, Mike."