Lawton husked: "Stamp on that idea, Slashaway--kill it. We're stronger
than he was. There isn't an ounce of weakness in us. We've got what it
takes."
"A guy can stand just so much."
"Bosh. There's no limit to what a man can stand."
From the visiplate behind them came an urgent voice: "Radio room tuning
in, sir."
Lawton swung about. On the flickering screen the foggy outlines of a
face appeared and coalesced into sharpness.
The Perseus radio operator was breathless with excitement. "Our
reception is improving, sir. European short waves are coming in strong.
The static is terrific, but we're getting every station on the
continent, and most of the American stations."
Lawton's eyes narrowed to exultant slits. He spat on the deck, a slow
tremor shaking him.
"Slashaway, did you hear that? _We've done it._ We've won against hell
and high water."
"We done what, sir?"
"The bubble, you ape--it must be wearing thin. Hell's bells, do you have
to stand there gaping like a moronic ninepin? I tell you, we've got it
licked."
"I can't stand it, sir. I'm going nuts."
"No you're not. You're slugging the thing inside you that wants to quit.
Slashaway, I'm going to give the crew a first-class pep talk. There'll
be no stampeding while I'm in command here."
He turned to the radio operator. "Tune in the control room. Tell the
captain I want every member of the crew lined up on this screen
immediately."
The face in the visiplate paled. "I can't do that, sir. Ship's
regulations--"
Lawton transfixed the operator with an irate stare. "The captain told
you to report directly to me, didn't he?"
"Yes sir, but--"
"If you don't want to be cashiered, _snap into it_."
"Yes--yessir."
The captain's startled face preceded the duty-muster visiview by a full
minute, seeming to project outward from the screen. The veins on his
neck were thick blue cords.
"Dave," he croaked. "Are you out of your mind? What good will talking do
_now_?"
"Are the men lined up?" Lawton rapped, impatiently.