Mallory rose suddenly. He was half angry with the ex-space officer. Smith wasn't being very subtle in his effort to help matters. No doubt the old duck meant well, but—
He said, "If you'll excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, I must go to the bridge. Ready, Bud?"
Bud Chandler gulped, "Ssswllwmcffy! Ulp!"
"What?"
"I said, 'As soon as I swallow my coffee!'" repeated the Second Mate aggrievedly. "Can't you understand English? Let's go."
Lemming intercepted them as they passed his end of the table. He asked, "Lieutenant, I've been wanting to ask for several days—might I be permitted to visit the bridge? This is my first spaceflight, you know. I've always wanted to see how the controls are operated."
"Speak to Captain Algase," suggested Dan. "That's not within my power—Yes, Billy?"
The mess-boy had just raced in from the outer deck, trayless, almost breathless. "Y're wanted on the bridge immejitely, Lootenant! Cap'n orders!" His eyes were as big as saucers. "Sparks just got a message through. A message from New Fresno!"
Dan had just time to notice, out of the corner of one eye, how this bald pronouncement affected the passengers. He saw the concerted motion that dragged them all to their feet as if they were puppets on a single string; saw the sudden gleam in Wilmot's eye, the worried frown that creased Bonetti's forehead, heard the swift, startled gasp from Lady Alice and intercepted Captain Smith's darting glances from one to another of the listeners. Lemming's voice quavered, "A—a message from New Fresno!" and Susan Wilmot laughed, a short, strident, triumphant burst of sound.
Then Dan Mallory saw no more. For with Chandler at his heels, he was pounding through the corridors to the Jacob's ladder that fed the control turret.