turning
my head one way and the other until I starved to death.

But Allyn solved my problem for me. "You haven't heard _this_," he said
bitterly. "The whole crew applied for transfer when we came back to base
after our last cruise. Of course, they didn't get it, but you get the
idea. Us reservists and draftees get about the same consideration as the
Admiral's dog--No! dammit!--Less than the dog. They wouldn't let a mangy
cur ship out with Gutless Gus."

Gutless Gus! that was a new one. I wondered how Chase had managed to
acquire that sobriquet.

* * * * *

"It was on our last patrol," Allyn went on, answering my question before
I asked it. "We were out at maximum radius when the detectors showed a
disturbance in normal space. Chase ordered us down from Cth for a quick
look--and so help me, God, we broke out right in the middle of a Rebel
supply convoy--big, fat, sitting ducks all around us. We got off about
twenty Mark VII torpedoes before Chase passed the word to change over.
We scooted back into Cth so fast we hardly knew we were gone. And then
he raises hell with Detector section for not identifying every class of
ship in that convoy!

"And when Bancroft, that's the Exec whom you've relieved, asked for a
quick check to confirm our kills, Chase sat on him like a ton of brick.
'I'm not interested in how many poor devils we blew apart back there,'
our Captain says. 'Our mission is to scout, to obtain information about
enemy movements and get that information back to Base. We cannot
transmit information from a vaporized ship, and that convoy had a naval
escort. Our mission cannot be jeopardized merely to satisfy morbid
curiosity. Request denied. And, Mr. Bancroft, have Communications
contact Fleet. This information should be in as soon as possible.' And
then he turned away leaving Bancroft biting his fingernails. He wouldn't
even push out a probe--scooted right back into the blue where we'd be
safe!

"You know, we haven't had one confirmed kill posted on the list since
we've been in space. It's getting so we don't want to come in any more.
Like the time--the 'Atropos' came in just after we touched down. She was
battered--looked like she'd been through a meat grinder, but she had ten
confirmed and six probable, and four of them were escorts! Hell! Our
boys couldn't hold their heads up. The 'Lachesis' didn't have a mark on
her and all we had was a few possible hits. You know how it
g