He returned her gaze sourly. "For Gorman to fall into the sun? I recall I said something of the sort myself, but there are other men on those ships. And, if I know Captain Varni on the _Lachesis_, he won't let go that line even if he fries himself." Ivy's eyes snapped angrily. "That's not what I meant, and you know it! I mean this!" She touched the red-sealed surge-circuit rheostat. "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!" "Evans here," came the reply. "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." "Yes, Captain." 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." "Yes, sir!" Cob saluted and was gone. 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!" "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." "Yes, sir!" The girl switched off. "And now you, Miss Hendricks." "Yes, Captain?" Her voice was low. "Take over Control ... and Ivy...." "Yes?" "Don't kill us off." He smiled down at her.