The point of light which represented Target One bulged slightly and went out. Drummond had connected and was back "in".
"Target Three—Zone Eight. Four—eight," Fire Control remarked.
"Target Three—Higgins and Green; Harper stand by. Four—Case and Santos: Lawrence."
After a minute or two of actual combat the Technos of Sector A began to steady down. Stand-by men were no longer required and were no longer assigned.
"Target Forty-one—six," said Fire Control; and:
"Lawrence, two. Doyle, two," ordered Kinnison. This was routine enough, but in a moment:
"Ted!" Lawrence snapped. "Missed—wide—both barrels. Forty-one's dodging—manned or directed—coming like hell—watch it, Doyle—WATCH IT!"
"Kinnison, take it!" Fire Control barked, voice now neither low nor steady, and without waiting to see whether Doyle would hit or miss. "It's in Zone Three already—collision course!"
"Harper! Take over!"
Kinnison got the data, solved the equations, launched five torpedoes at fifty gravities of acceleration. One ... two—three-four-five; the last three as close together as they could fly without setting off their proximity fuzes.