The watchbirds set themselves the task of protecting all living things.
The fly buzzed around the room, lighting on a table top, pausing a moment, then darting to a window sill.
The old man stalked it, a rolled newspaper in his hand.
Murderer!
The watchbirds swept down and saved the fly in the nick of time.
The old man writhed on the floor a minute and then was silent. He had been given only a mild shock, but it had been enough for his fluttery, cranky heart.
His victim had been saved, though, and this was the important thing. Save the victim and give the aggressor his just desserts.
Gelsen demanded angrily, "Why aren't they being turned off?"
The assistant control engineer gestured. In a corner of the repair room lay the senior control engineer. He was just regaining consciousness.