Stan glanced at it briefly. There was the Thuscan fleet laid out below—much nearer now—and the small, flashing dot that represented his own craft.
Behind him, strung out like a lazy figure C, was the rest of the Aurelian fleet. They were following the leader down, even though they recognized the enormous odds at which they were going to be fighting.
Courage, Stan thought, feeling something catch in his throat. The unknown weapon.
But just how much could it accomplish?
"Contact in half a chrono," the pilot said.
Stan walked over to him.
"Show me how this works."
It was simple enough, Stan discovered. The firing studs for the different, directional rockets could be played like the keys of a piano. And the radar that indicated distance from another object was accurate to the yard.
Stan studied the pilot for a minute, trying to guess at his reflexes. "When we make contact, do exactly as I tell you."
He shifted his gaze to the viewscreen. The Thuscan fleet was much nearer now, but the formation was changing slightly. The triangle was more ragged, more uncertain looking. They weren't sure of what was going to happen, Stan thought, and they were worried.