Fiske leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. He looked at Pedersen and nodded.
"Battle Stations, condition two," Pedersen said to the talker. "Well, there's two of them down there to try your gadget on."
"Gives us one break at least," Fiske said. "We're not too outnumbered."
Pedersen shrugged off the pun. "In your shoes, sir," he said, "I'd be tempted to run like hell."
"Sure, so am I. But just where could we get a better chance than this? If we're going to fight we might as well get decent odds."
"You call two to one decent?"
"I'll tell you more when their drive patterns are analyzed. If they're cruisers we can outgun and outrun them,—and if they're battlewagons they'll never catch us. Not even—"
"Objects register as enemy heavy cruisers," the talker said. "Drive intensity point oh two over ours."
"Well," Pedersen remarked. "You're wrong on one point. We're not going to outrun them."
"Seems that way," Fiske agreed. "They must be new models,—probably ones like those that chewed up Ed Albertson's ship. But they can't be any more heavily armed than we are."