"That's very nice, Lieutenant," commented Cob drily. "And I know that you've been very busy adjusting that gismo. But I seem to recall that the last time that circuit was uncorked everyone aboard became part of the woodwork ... very messily, too."
"Let me understand you, Ivy," said Strike in a flat voice. "What you are suggesting is that I risk my ship and the lives of all of us trying to pull old Gorman's fat out of the fire with a drive that's blown skyhigh three times out of three. Very neat."
There were tears bright in Ivy Hendricks' eyes and she sounded desperate. "But we can save those ships! We can, I _know_ we can! My father designed this ship! I know every rivet of her! Those idiots off Callisto didn't know what they were doing. These ships needed specially trained men. Father told them that! And I'm trained! I can take her in and save those ships!" Her expression turned to one of disgust. "Or are you afraid?"
"Frankly, Ivy, I haven't enough sense to be afraid. But are you so certain that we can pull this off? If I make a mistake this time ... it'll be the last. For all of us."
"We can do it," said Ivy Hendricks simply.
Strike turned to Cob. "What do you say, Cob? Shall we make it hotter in here?"
Whitley shrugged. "If you say so, Strike. It's good enough for me."
Celia Graham left the bridge shaking her head. "We'll all be dead soon. And me so young and pretty."
Strike turned to the squawk-box. "Evans!"
"Have Sparks get a DF fix on the _Atropos_ and hold it. We'll home on their carrier wave. They're in trouble and we're going after them. Plot the course."
Strike turned to Cob. "Have the gun-crews stand by to relieve the black-gang in the tube rooms. It's going to get hotter than the hinges of hell down there and we'll have to shorten shifts."
Strike returned to the squawk-box. "Radar!"
"Graham here," replied Celia from her station.
"Get a radar fix on the _Lachesis_ and hold it. Send your dope up to Evans and tell him to send us a range estimate."
"Yes, Captain," the girl replied crisply.
"Gun deck here, sir," came a feminine voice.
"Have number two starboard torpedo tube loaded with a fish and a spool of cable. Be ready to let fly on short notice ... any range."
"Don't kill us off." He smiled down at her.