unusual pattern. A patrol ship, a destroyer, and a cruiser have all gone right into the enemy vortex field," analyzed the Major.

"Yes, I see—But with the enemy concentrating his ships orthogonally—he'll build a vortex that will disintegrate each and every ship of ours near the vortex," said the General, his mind coming up to full battle speed as it grasped the situation. "My God! Can't they see that they're going to certain death?"

A gong sounded in a muffled sort of way in the plotting room below Ruy, as a gentle buzz told him that the computer had relinquished control.

His fingers began to play rapidly over the keys. Swift orders of strategy were transmitted through steel conduits deep into the computer vaults of the building. There, the orders were transposed into detailed tactics and beamed throughout the solar system. And as his fingers limbered to the keys, he played a deadly tune, a concerto of death.

The fleet grew alive with a sudden awareness; it seemed to be a thing alive, straining at its bonds in response to the music played into its computers and controls. Suddenly, the fleet sprang forward. A destroyer shot out into the midst of the enemy fleet, launching all of its energy in one tremendous lurch—only to go down in a flaming wreck as the enemy ships swerved and concentrated on it. And a second ship, and then a third ship repeated the frightful maneuver, until the whole heavens were lighted with the flaming novae of berserk atomic drives.

"General, sir," said the Lieutenant, with sweat rolling from his brow as he saluted.

"Yes, Lieutenant," said the General looking away from the battle map of the solar system.

"We can't make any headway against the control room door. Must be solid steel. Whoever got in there must have fused it shut."

"Well, get a welding torch," said the General, his eyes going back to watch the devastation of the fleet. "We've got to get in—get that computer back on automatic. Get explosives, if necessary."

"We've sent for a welding torch already, sir. It'll be here in a few minutes."

"All right. Send someone for hand grenades too. We've got to stop this sabotage before the fleet is annihilated. They're losing ships every minute."

"Sir," interposed the Captain standing nearby, "maybe we can cut off the computer room someway. I know it's a direct conduit, right 

 Prev. P 4/6 next