The next few hours were hectic ones, especially for the few seasoned officers aboard the battleship _Albion_. The _Albion_ was a fairly new ship. She was fast, heavily armored, and carried the latest guns, three facts which Harrigan hoped would save them from disaster. He realized that HQ had had to break radio silence to notify them of the sudden outbreak of hostilities, but he also knew that the enemy had undoubtedly intercepted the message, plotted the _Albion_ course, and sent a half-dozen of their fastest ships in hot pursuit. That's the way the Dark Nebula League liked to fight: six to one. Harrigan figured that he just might be able to outrun them; but if the League ships did manage to cut them off from Terra ... well, he hated the idea of fighting that bunch of cut-throats with a crew of green kids. Ordinarily, new spacemen were distributed among crews of seasoned men at a ratio of about one in ten. To be in top fighting condition, the _Albion_ should carry four thousand regulars and four hundred greenies. There were five thousand men on board; one hundred and fifty old line officers, fifty newly commissioned officers, and forty-eight hundred Terran youngsters fresh out of ground school. The officers had done their best to whip the crew into the semblance of a fighting unit. If a fracas did develop, they might squeeze through if the kids could follow orders. But in battle things happened almost too fast to be covered by orders. A man had to think for himself. Harrigan found himself staring through the forward screen, wishing that three or four thousand hardened space-Marines would suddenly materialize out of thin air. O'Brien came steaming up. He sat down beside the admiral, lit a cigarette and said "Phwooee." "Right you are," Harrigan answered. "Things sure popped, didn't they?" "And how. Think we ought to prowl?" "Guess so. We're going to watch things mighty damned close till we hit base. Better check the gun-banks. And by the way, Mike, who had the controls when that order came in?" "Young chap named McDaniels." "And his navigator?" "Rose. Why?" "Have them report to me when they come off. They're to be congratulated for getting us away fast and right. If the rest of the crew picks up as fast as those two, we'll make out O.K. Let's have a look at those banks." * * * * * The _Albion's_ eight gun-banks spangled the ship from nose to tubes like stripes on a watermelon. Each bank was divided into A, B and C sections, fore, aft and center. Forty-eight men and two officers manned each section. The atomic cannon in the nose were fired only by the ship's Master gunner, a sardonic expert named Irvington.