"Luga!" Donovan's eyes flashed. "Were you there?"
"Sure. Destroyer North Africa, just come back from the Zarune front—Cigarette?"
They fell to yarning and passed a pleasant hour. Donovan could not suppress a vague regret when Takahashi left. They aren't such bad fellows, those Impies. They were brave and honorable enemies, and they've been lenient conquerors as such things go. But when we hit the Black Nebula—
He shuddered. "Wocha, get that whiskey out of my trunk."
"You not going to get drunk again, boss?" The Donarrian's voice rumbled disappointment.
"I am. And I'm going to try to stay drunk the whole damn voyage. You just don't know what we're heading for, Wocha."
Stranger, go back.
Spaceman, go home. Turn back, adventurer.
It is death. Return, human.