The assistant navigator looked back from his post by the helmsman.
"Coming in to Peak One, sir," he called.
"What's our speed?" asked Ross.
"Two thousand, sir."
"Cut her down to a thousand," commanded Ross. "Any signals from the
Peak?"
The navigator shook his head nervously. "None yet, sir. Shall I cut
speed if they don't signal?"
"Yes," Ross decided. "Slow up as you see fit, and hover at fifty miles
if they show no signal." He gestured to his chief navigator. "Come on,
Harry, let's inspect ship."
The two passed from the control room to the gleaming engines. Here
the silent engine crew hearkened to the pulse of the powerful rocket
engine, and kept steady eyes on the gauges that showed the compressed
ray fuel was feeding steadily into the discharger. Out of the engine
room they passed to the after gun station. Ross tapped one of the
six-inch torpedoes, and slapped one of the slim three-inch cylinders in
the number two torpedo rack. "We may need them all soon," he told the
station chief.
The gunnery chief's eyes widened. "We'll be ready, sir. Can you--is
there anything I can tell the men about--Number Eight?"
Ross shook his head. "She's gone," he said briefly. "Might have been an
accidental explosion--but I don't think so. We're landing soon. Just be
ready, that's all."
He swung away to the forward gun station, saw that all hands were
alert, and led the way back to the control room. Jorgens was pulling a
sheet from the ray-type. He handed it over quickly.
It was from the Moon. "Warning to Earth Fleet!" it began. "Peak One
wrecked. Come in on Peak Four." And it was signed "Artana."