Then the overdrive unit had to be inspected and set for the length of
journey that a direct overdrive hop to Dara would mean, and Calhoun
had to make sure again that each of the four could identify Dara's sun
under all circumstances and aim for it with the requisite high
precision, both before going into overdrive and after breakout. When
all that was accomplished, Calhoun might reasonably hope that they'd
arrive. But it wasn't a certainty.

Still, presently his four students shook hands with him, with the fine
tolerance of young men intending much greater achievements than their
teacher. They wouldn't speak on communicator again, because their
messages might be picked up on Weald.

Of course, for this high heroic action to be successful, it had to be
performed with the stealth of sneak-thieves.

What seemed a long time passed. The one ship turned slowly upon some
unseen axis. It wavered back and forth, seeking a point of aim. A
second twisted in its place. A third put on the barest trace of solar
system drive to get clear of the rest. The fourth--

One ship vanished. It had gone into overdrive, heading for Dara at
many times the speed of light. Another. Two more.

That was all. The remainder of the fleet hung clumsily in emptiness.
And Calhoun worriedly went over in his mind the lessons he'd given in
such a pathetically small number of days. If the four ships reached
Dara, their pilots would be heroes. Calhoun had presented them with
that estate over their bitter objection. But they would glory in
it--if they reached Dara.