Inexorably, the Terran battle fleet drove onward. Massively ponderous; immobile in its chosen course, the massed fleet flashed up through the velocity range to mid-course, made their complex turnover, and started to decelerate. Hours passed, grew into days, and the days added one to the other, and the lattice was maintained with precision and perfection. Hardly a centimeter of vacillation was observed from ship to ship, and from the Orionad in the center of the space lattice, it seemed as though the monstrous, assembled fleet were truly set in a huge glasslike jelly, immobilized.
But it was a wary personnel that manned the huge Terran Space Patrol task force. They expected something. And the fact that so many hours and days had gone without interruption did not make them less restive. Each moment that went without trouble brought more certain the chance of excitement in the next. It was a beautiful war of nerves, with the Terrans getting more and more certain of attack as the hours sped on and the fleet's velocity dropped to far below the lightning-speed of the maximum at turnover.
The watch was not stirring, save that the crews were on the constant alert for the clangor of the alarms; and the detectors were operating at overload range which gave them plenty of time to get into action—barring something superior in the way of weapons. Far better than human senses were the detectors, and they could be relied upon.
Surprise was impossible because attack was inevitable. And since the human element of watching was eliminated by the ever-alert detectors and the element of counterattack was automatic with the turret-coupled AutoMacs, it was only a matter of time. As one, the fleet moved through the vastness of space between the orbit of Pluto and their goal.
Guy Maynard prowled his scanning room impatiently. In the easy-chair beside the broad desk, Ben Williamson lazed without apparent excitement. Upon the twentieth cigarette, Ben said softly: "You should take it easy, Guy."
"Like you?" asked Maynard. "You look calm—but!"
"I know all about it. But remember, even though it's action you crave; you're the big boss on this expedition and you'll be able to do nothing but watch."
"Watch—and pray that my plans are effective. Uh-huh. But talking it down won't lessen the tension."
"Wait 'em out, Guy. They'll come soon enough."
Guy snorted, tossed his cigarette into the wastebasket and tried to relax. A matter of time, all right. Well, maybe he could wait in patience. At best he'd have to wait until the Mephistans were ready to attack.