It made them nervous.
And a psychologist who had studied both the Loard-vogh and the Terran minds from a dispassionate standpoint made the observation that the Loard-vogh might have been better equipped to cope with a slashing surprise attack, but were completely baffled by the obvious foolishness of waiting.
Three days Terran went by, and the secondary waves of Loard-vogh came up, adding to the general confusion. Orders rang through space and the following waves of the grand fleet slowed so that utter confusion would not hamper their action.
Then, eight days after the first arrivals, and still with no attack, the Loard-vogh decided to move in another ten light-years. A star twinkled there. It had been this stellar outpost that the Loard-vogh feared. Their methods of defense would have been to arm every planet of this star with energy enough to reach three light-years into space and crush any oncomer. They were wise. They gave a three-times plus safety factor just because their Lord of All was afraid of Terra.
And they admitted that they, too, feared Terra.
With slow care, the spearhead moved forward. The grand fleet moved in waves once again. Slow, overcautious waves, and they worried all the way. They knew. They knew that it would come any minute now.
But nothing came at five light-years from the star. And at three light-years there was not a sign in their detector systems. A single light-year gave them the same indication, and they swarmed about the star—now a blazing sun, and searched the heavens about them for the sign of enemy activity. They gave the seven planets a wide berth, and would stay away until they were very certain—
So this was the feared and hated Solar Sector? Not even an outpost. Not a scout. Not a sign of activity!
The Loard-vogh took a deep breath and sighed in relief. And while they were letting their breath out, Sol struck—and hard!