computers, kept the two great battle fleets drawn in null position against each other. The computers, perhaps, deserved such ultimate confidence—in theory. They always predicted optimum maneuver envelopes, always predicted mobilization rates to develop force fields designed to offset those of the enemy. And they always kept battle losses to a minimum—merely dribbling away the resources of the solar system. Yet in five years of such optimum maneuvering, not a single battle had been won.

Two doors gave way before Ruy's pocket vibrator, the lock tumblers slipping and turning freely in a mad frenzy to escape the resonating hum. A short, windowless corridor lay before him, broken only by a massive door at the other end. Beyond that door lay Ruy's objective.

The guard never had time to do more than note Ruy's presence in this sanctum sanctorum. The needle thin spray of a paralyzing drug made his body feel stiff, unmanageable, and peculiarly buoyant, as though he were being hurled through space. His thoughts became blurred and then after a blinding flash, complete oblivion set in.

The two officers seated at the control panels of the master computer experienced similar depression of their cardiovascular systems and medullae.

Small thermite igniters pressed against the door lock and hinges fused the steel door to its frame.

With the smell of scorched paint still stinging his nostrils, Ruy seated himself at the control panel, dabbed his left wrist with stringent antiseptic, gripped his hand into a fist, and plunged the silver probes deep into the nerves of his wrist.

Glancing through the observation window into the battle plotting room below, he studied the positions of the fleets as they appeared on the large wall diagram of the solar system.

Disregarding the distraction offered by the moving figures of the few officers and technicians on duty by the map, he fixed the positions of the fleets into his mind. He would have need for a clear visual picture until he adapted to the mental images the computer would feed into his brain. He worked with furious haste, yet each step was meticulously precise—everything depended on his grasping the reins of battle from the computer and successfully twisting its authority to his own purposes.

Grasping the viewing switch, he threw it on. Pinpoints of light flared deep within his brain and seemed to blot his vision. Closing his eyes, his brain fought for perspective. Gradually, 

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