"Well, here they are, Clemens," the Commander said aloud, "and getting uncomfortably close to the System. It looks like they're some other System's dominant intelligence, and we've got planets they want."
"Yes, sir," said the other, "and here we are, with the fastest, most heavily armed space fighter ever built—in the System."
"In the Universe," snapped McPartland. His full lips curved into a grim smile. "Under sealed orders which every citizen from Pluto to Mercury knows are: 'Destroy this ship—or it conquers our System.'"
Lieutenant-Commander Clemens bent to his intra-phone, turned to relay. "Navigation Officer reports enemy ship has altered course to head on. Speed fifty Spatial units."
"Thank you," McPartland stepped to the phone himself.
"This is it, men. You know what it means!" His hands flicked levers swiftly, as he spoke to component units individually:
"Propulsion—full speed ahead. Make every blast tell!
"Navigation—evasive course. Swing wide to draw them away from the System so that if—if—"
"I understand, sir," came the crisp reply from Lieutenant Parek.
"All ray stations," went on McPartland, "fire at maximum range. Radio—any contact?"