Hanson got my meaning immediately. His big fists balled at his sides. I felt his shoulder tense against mine. And then—
"No!" whispered Biggs sibilantly. "That doesn't help, Skipper! The Cyclops will be here any minute, now!"
"—ammunition," droned Thaxton. "Boxes piled to the ceiling. Ah! And in the third bin—"
"Out of my way, you gutless wonder!" rasped Hanson viciously. "Let them come! If we die, we die like men!"
"But," said Lancelot Biggs quietly, "we don't die!" And calmly, easily, almost tenderly, he raised his voice.
"I speak to you, Thaxton," he said in the soothing tone of a parent. "Do you hear me? Do you hear me speak?"
"—two hundred rotor-guns," said Thaxton. "Three cartons of fuse-caps, one carton of—Yes, I hear you speak."
"That is well," said Biggs. "Listen, Thaxton, and do as I say. In a few minutes you—"
He spoke swiftly. It is well that he did so, for it was scant seconds after he had finished that the inter-communicating system buzzed loudly. I flashed in the audio and stared into the panicky face of Lt. Dick Todd.
"Sparks!" he yelled. "Is the skipper there? Tell him to come up here right away! There's a Venusian ship off our port bow. It just fired a shot across our bow and ordered us to heave to!"