"She's clicking fine, sir," the sergeant answered.
O'Malley glanced at his orders. The two men under him were Ted Wilks and Pete Liske. He wondered what they had done to call down the colonel's displeasure. Swinging up into the greenhouse, he palmed the hatch cover and got set.
"Wilks and Liske," he called lazily. "This is your skipper, Mrs. O'Malley's son. Get your crates hot."
"Temperatures check," Liske called back. His voice sounded sour.
"Which one of the Auld Man's corns did you step on, Liske?" O'Malley asked.
"Same one I did," Wilks called in.
"Can the chatter and get going," snapped a voice from operations. "Lieutenant O'Malley, report out at once," another voice cut in.
"Up to five thousand and then tuck in close to me," O'Malley ordered.
"Read your flight sheets!" The voice from operations was sharp and snappy.
O'Malley laughed. "Shove off, me hearties," he called.