Captain Nails Andersen sat stunned at his console.
The communications officer sat back, paying little attention to the board before him, a light smirk on his face.
But the smirk dropped from his face suddenly. Rising over the background chatter of the radio announcements from U.N. Headquarters, came loudly over the ship general intercom the voice of Major Steve Elbertson, counting down through the list of Security personnel.
He, too, sat stunned until, as the voice ended "This is war," he came to, stood up needle gun in hand, pointed at the captain.
"I don't know how your slipstick boys cracked our code and picked that message up," he said, "and I don't really care. As you heard, the major has ordered me to take command of the bridge. I hereby do so."
Coming through the bulkhead were two more Security men, each with a needle gun. His gun unwaveringly pointed at the captain, Com Officer Clark reached down and flipped the red switch that turned off the power to all of the ship intercoms.
On board Hot Rod, the Security crew was working against an accelerated time-schedule now. The aiming controls of Hot Rod's big mirror were infinitely precise—and correspondingly slow. As soon as the storage power supply had been wired into the big weapon—a precise operation, requiring both skill and time—the factors had been keyed in that would bring the mirror in an arc, turning it to bear precisely on that area of space through which the passenger spokes of the wheel turned; but the motion of the mirror was infinitesimally slow.
As the crew of Hot Rod strove to get it into position to fire; and the computer on the wheel strove to precess the wheel to a position where firing would be fatal to the firer, it became a race between giant snails.
But already the rim of the big wheel had inched slightly ahead in the race; and the main part of the hub was disappearing behind it. In spite of Elbertson's orders, the big wheel continued to turn its rim directly towards the giant balloon with its bulbous nose.