The number 4 air lock was less than ten meters ahead. Brad heaved Scarf across his shoulders, and with Kumiko leading the way, they rushed toward it. The deck carried the slap of running feet, fast and closing. Cordy appeared at the end of the passage. Seeing them, he crouched on one knee and raised his weapon. Kumiko beat him; at the sound of running, she had raised her sidearm. As Cordy took aim, she fired. Cordy fell back, stunned. Brad had the door to the outer air lock open, Scarf on the deck inside. Kumiko rushed past Brad and he slammed the door and clipped it sealed. She snatched an emergency space stretcher from a bulkhead rack and snapped it open. It took the two of them to roll Scarf's inert body into the envelope, seal it around him and start an oxygen flow. They snapped their faceplates closed. Brad hit switches. The outer portals slid apart. The catwalk and other connections to the utility were still in place. Carrying the stretcher between them, they crossed over. Chapter TWENTY-ONE Brad poked his head into Drummer's office at Fleet Headquarters. Drummer, at his desk, bent over a document, cast frequent glances at electronic displays on the wall nearby. Racks of data capsules, no space for them on the busy desk, crowded the floor nearby. A conical view tank, recessed in the wall to his left, glowed with symbols of ships and their military characteristics, along with tactical and logistical links. Scanning the monitors and view tank, Drummer hefted a hand control and pressed keys. Eyes half-closed, he silently transformed mental images into memoranda and messages. Aware of Brad's presence, he paused and focused on him in the doorway. "I thought you planned to take a couple of days off after Tornado Six," Brad said. "Can't," Drummer replied, his eyes back to his notes. "What's happening?" "Until Tornado Six, our forces functioned as separate units. Tornado Six was our fleet's first integrated operation. The mission succeeded because we got away without military opposition. I can't trust that sort of luck to hold. We need to refine our tactics, based on our experience with the log depot and that armed transport, and in anticipation of an early organized response by the UIPS." Brad appeared uncertain whether to remain or move on. "Stand by a moment, Brad." Drummer resumed recording. Symbols in the tank flashed off and on too quickly for the eye to follow, but Drummer was no longer giving them his attention. He touched a glowing disk on the arm of his chair, sighed, and leaned back. The view tank cleared to continue its work unobserved. "I need a break. Here's what's happening, Brad." He motioned Brad to a seat alongside his desk.