"Hereafter you may address me as Captain Welnicki," he said. "And now stand by to outspace."
Arrowing through the fourth system like a hundred-foot rapier probing enemy vitals, G.P.S. Fishdollar's Bane finally sniffed out the tender's ID pattern on an inner planet.
"Pinpoint the enemy and orbit his horizon. Compute physical data and report," Captain Welnicki ordered Rutledge.
Next ship-day he briefed his subordinates. A single continent lay athwart the planet's equator, with major volcanic activity in its galactic north. The enemy base was on the southwest coast. Gravity was point nine, the day twenty-six standard hours, and the season spring in the southern hemisphere. They would achieve surprise by landing in the north and staging the landing party south in the atmospheric flyer. What did they think?
"It's a laugh, the way we outgun them Fishdollars, Mr.—I mean Captain Welnicki," Chong growled. "Why not take—this ship—right over 'em and call on 'em to surrender?"
"They'd defy us, sergeant. They're ready to die to the last man—oh, you should have heard old Wendrew Fishdollar's parting speech! And remember, they have hostages."
"Oughta be some way we could use the ship's armament."
"You're a tough fighter, sergeant, but you lack creative imagination. No, my decision stands. Have your marines roll field packs."