There was no immediate response; and then Bannerman spoke up slowly, as if he felt it had devolved upon him, the unwelcome duty of being spokesman for the group.

“Sir,” he said, “what about the chances of collision?”

“They’ll be high, I know,” said Donal. “Especially with the defending ships. But we’ll just have to take our chances.”

“May I ask how many runs we’ll be making?”

“As many,” said Donal, “as we can.” He looked deliberately around the group. “I want you gentlemen to understand. We’re going to make every possible attempt to avoid open battle or accidental casualties. But these things may not be avoidable considering the necessarily high number of runs.”

“How many runs did you have in mind, captain?” asked Sukaya-Mendez.

“I don’t see,” replied Donal, “how we can effectively present the illusion of a large fleet engaged in saturation bombardment of a world in under a full two hours of continuous runs.”

“Two hours!” said Bannerman. There was an instinctive murmur from the group. “Sir,” continued Bannerman. “Even at five minutes a run, that amounts with five ships to better than two runs an hour. If we double up, or if there’s casualties it could run as high as four. That’s eight phase shifts to an hour—sixteen in a two-hour period. Sir, even doped to the ears, the men on our ships can’t take that.”

“Do you know of anyone who ever tried, captain?” inquired Donal.

“No, sir—” began Bannerman.

“Then how do we know it can’t be done?” Donal did not wait for an answer. “The point is, it must be done. You’re being required only to navigate your ships and fire possibly two torpedoes. That doesn’t require the manpower it would to fight your ships under ordinary conditions. If some of your men become unfit for duty, make shift with the ones you have left.”

“Shot Dorsai!” murmured the scarred el Man; and Donal glanced toward him, as grateful for the support as for the compliment.

“Anyone want out?” Donal asked crisply.

There was a slow, but emphatic, mutter of negation from all of them.

“Right,” Donal took a step back from them. “Then let’s get about our practice runs. Dismissed, gentlemen.”

He watched the four from other ships leave the control room.

“Better feed and rest the crews,” Donal said, turning to Bannerman. “And get some rest yourself. I intend to. Have a couple of meals sent to my quarters.”

“Sir,” acknowledged Bannerman. Donal turned and left the control room, followed by Lee as by a shadow. The Cobyman was silent until they were in the stateroom; then he growled: “What did that scarface mean by calling you shy?”

“Shy?” Donal turned about in surprise.

“Shaey, shy—something like that.”