"Very good, sir," the Navy face replied. "I'll inform my superiors." "Wait, don't break off yet. We have to talk with your captain." "Sir? I'll switch you over to--" "None of your damned chains of command," Blades interrupted. "Get me Rear Admiral Hulse direct, toot sweet, or I'll eat out whatever fraction of you he leaves unchewed. This is an emergency. I've got to warn him of an immediate danger only he can deal with." The other stared, first at Chung's obvious exhaustion, then at the black eye and assorted bruises, scratches, and bites that adorned Blades' visage. "I'll put the message through Channel Red at once, sir." The screen blanked. "Well, here we go," Chung said. "I wonder how the food in Rehab is these days." "Want me to do the talking?" Blades asked. Chung wasn't built for times as hectic as the last few hours, and was worn to a nubbin. He himself felt immensely keyed up. He'd always liked a good fight. "Sure." Chung pulled a crumpled cigarette from his pocket and began to fill the cabin with smoke. "You have a larger stock of rudeness than I." [Illustration] Presently the screen showed Hulse, rigid at his post on the bridge. "Good day, gentlemen," he said. "What's the trouble?" "Plenty," Blades answered. "Clear everybody else out of there; let your ship orbit free a while. And seal your circuit." Hulse reddened. "Who do you think you are?" "Well, my birth certificate says Michael Joseph Blades. I've got some news for you concerning that top-secret gadget you told us about. You wouldn't want unauthorized personnel listening in." Hulse leaned forward till he seemed about to fall through the screen. "What's this about a hazard?" "Fact. The _Altair_ is in distinct danger of getting blown to bits." "Have you gone crazy? Get me the captain of the _Pallas_." "Very small bits." Hulse compressed his lips. "All right, I'll listen to you for a short time. You had better make it worth my while." He spoke orders. Blades scratched his back while he waited for the bridge to be emptied and wondered if there was any chance of a hot shower in the near future. "Done," said Hulse. "Give me your report." Blades glanced at the telltale. "You haven't sealed your circuit, admiral." Hulse said angry words, but complied. "Now will you talk?" "Sure. This secrecy is for your own protection. You risk court-martial otherwise." Hulse suppressed a retort. * * * * * "O.K., here's the word." Blades met the transmitted glare with an almost palpable crash of eyeballs. "We decided, Mr. Chung and I, that any missile rig as haywire as yours represents a menace to navigation and public safety. If you can't control your own nuclear weapons, you shouldn't be at large. Our charter gives us local authority as peace officers. By virtue thereof and so on and so forth, we ordered certain precautionary steps taken. As a result, if that war head goes off, I'm sorry to say that NASS _Altair_ will be destroyed."