Mclntyre was sitting in front of a cruiser, carefully adjusting the firing sight of a one-man missile launcher. He had to work with one hand, since his injured arm was still in the cast.
“Good morning. Sergeant.”
Mclntyre looked up, then leaped to his feet, knocking the tubular missile launcher off its tripod.
“Sir! You made it back!”
Vorgens nodded curtly. “I don’t have much time for talking. Sergeant. I need volunteers—real volunteers.”
Mclntyre’s eyes widened as Vorgens explained what he intended to do, and the Star Watch regulations covering such situations.
“I’ll need a dozen men. They should all be experienced, and they should be told exactly what they’re getting into. Can you get me that many men in fifteen minutes?”
For the first time since Vorgens had known him, Mclntyre seemed uncertain of himself. “I can sure try, sir. I can sure try.”
It took closer to twenty minutes, but finally Mclntyre had assembled a dozen men, noncoms and troopers, all of them. Vorgens looted them over as they lined up before the battle cruiser. They were a hard-faced, veteran crew-
“The sergeant has explained what this is about,” Vorgens told them. “Although I am taking full responsibility for this action, there is a chance that your own records may receive a damaging report because of your help to me. If there is any man here who is afraid to run the risk of hurting his service record, he is free to fall out.”
None of the twelve moved. In fact, an extra man tepped out of the shadows and joined the tail end of the line.