"I don't know--"
I stood clinging. This dizzying whirl. From the audiphone grid
Coniston's voice sounded.
"I say, Haljan, something's wrong. Hahn doesn't signal."
The lookout in the forward tower was clinging to our window. On the
deck below our turret a member of the crew appeared, stood lurching
for a moment, then shouted and ran, swaying, aimless. From the lower
hull corridors our grids sounded with the tramping of running steps.
Panic among the crew was spreading over the ship. A chaos below deck.