For a long second the Eglan hung in space, her screens blazing. Then she began to turn,—but it was too late. The concentrated fury of the "Dauntless" broadside erupted against her screens in blazing pyrotechnics. The Eglan staggered and spun off at a tangent. A second later the "Dauntless" bucked and jumped as the Eglan's fire crashed home. The secondary screens flared and vanished. The primaries crackled into the violet under the enormous load of dissipating the megatons of energy that flared against them.
"Holy George!—what sort of stuff are those fellows carrying?" Pedersen breathed, "They outgun us too!" A trickle of blood ran from his nose.
"No—we're about even there," Fiske said as another broadside erupted from the "Dauntless" and another load of destruction hurtled towards the Eglan.
"Enemy has fired," the talker said, and the "Dauntless" again turned off to one side. This time the salvo missed by a comfortable margin.
"What's wrong with them?" Pedersen asked as he stared into the tank. "They're not evading."
"Maybe they can't. We hit him near the drives."
"There they go—too slow, way too slow!"
The "Dauntless" salvo struck and for a moment an intolerable flame lighted space, and when it died the Eglan cruiser had vanished.
"Bearing zero four five—enemy cruiser—range one hundred—closing," the talker's voice interjected. "Enemy has fired."