Crowley reached forward, grasping McClelland's shoulder. The gun swung toward him. A stream of light squirted into his middle. Crowley fell forward, pulling the captain down with him. The three other oldsters were above the three black figures sprawled on the floor, like tangled puppets. They hesitated a moment, then fell upon the ones below them, black arms and legs twitching about now like the legs of dying spiders, struggling weakly.
A flash of light exploded beneath these twisting black reeds and streaks of it shot out all through the waving black cluster.
The next moment, they settled and were quiet.
here was a stillness in the ancient control room, like the stillness in a sunken ship at the bottom of the sea. It lingered for a long time, while Colonel Halter watched and waited.
Dr. Mueller's voice, seventy-five years tired, said, "He's—quiet now. Please come and take us out."
Colonel Halter switched on his desk visiophone.
"They're coming out," he said quietly. "I'll be there to supervise."
On the visiophone, the general's image nodded. "Congratulations, Colonel. How are they?"