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The wagon tracks furrowed his high forehead. Near Stetson, Admiral Sobat Spencer, the I-A's Commander of Galactic Operations, paced the floor. ComGO was a bull-necked bald man with wide blue eyes, a deceptively mild voice. There was a caged animal look to his pacing three steps out, three steps back. Polly Bullone sat on the divan. Her mouth was pulled into a straight line.
Some four hundred meters below, the scurrying beetlelike activity of the I-A's main field sent up discordant roaring and clattering. Two rows of other scout cruisers were parked in line with Stetson's port gleaming red and black needles. He stared at them without really seeing them. It always happens on some "routine" assignment, he thought.
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