Bill leaped across the room to the cm board. He jabbed at buttons. A giant screen lit up, showing a spaceship. Smaller screens lit up, revealing robot ship commanders.
"Look at that ship, Paul," Bill said. "You know them all. Aquilanean, Centaurian, Cygnian. It isn't any known type—and with a war just over, there hasn't been time to mass-produce new types." He jabbed at a button. "All ships," he said. "All ships. Defense formation five. Five. Operation three. Three." He listened to the repeats.
Paul Belcross had leaped to the huge tri-di sphere and turned it on. Seconds later both men, Vilbis forgotten but watching with bright eyes, were studying the small dots in the tri-di. The flight formation in the shape of a giant arrow was quickly changing shape as the fleet formed a defensive sphere around the flagship and its human occupants. The Rover was the only bright blue dot. The others were red.
But now other dots were materializing at the outer fringe of the tri-di, too many new dots to count. Approaching ships.
Across the room a voice from a loudspeaker was saying, "Eighty seconds to contact. No response. No response."
"Another second and they'll be within range," Paul said.
"God!" Bill's voice exploded. His eyes were on the large area of the tri-di where ships had abruptly ceased to exist.
"Something's wrong with the tri-di," Paul said. "No weapon could do that."
"Nothing's wrong with the tri-di," Bill said sharply. "And we don't have that kind of weapon. They're something alien. Have to be. Some other galaxy. There's always been that possibility."