"I'll get it," said Williamson, and left. Maynard turned to Hamilton. "And you, Jack, get some of your heavies into action against sector A-13. You know the target we want destroyed."
"I sure do. And I'll get it!"
He turned to the commanding officer of the forces that arrived with the reinforcements. "Can you hold them to the north, south, and west? If so, can you advance to the east?"
"That's quite a job."
"Can you?" demanded Maynard.
The other man looked at Maynard's nebula and then down at his own rayed star. "I'll try," he said.
"No, Walter, say 'I'll do it!' and then try. We're counting on you."
There was a three-mile border around the hundred square miles of Terran-held Mephisto. It was a terrible border now. It was a solid mass of flame and fragment, and it was creeping inward slowly. Saturation destruction, it was called, and if successful, obliterated not only the enemy, but also his traces.
Above, the circling of tiny fighter ships darkened the sky, and the rain of broken ships became dangerous.
And then a wave of intense hatred filled Maynard. It was so violent that he found himself climbing the roof of his shelter to man one of the AutoMacMillans himself. He got control of himself, and saw that all the Terrans in the field of his sight were positively writhing in hatred. Shaking his head in wonder, Maynard returned to his scanning room and watched the luminous map of operations.