andby scratching
sounds that loudspeakers always emit.

Screens lighted. A speck moved among the stars.

"_Prepare counter-missiles_," said the voice. "_Proximity and track.
Fire only as missiles appear._"

The moving speck flamed and was again only a moving speck. It ejected
something which hurtled toward the ship just up from Kandar.

"_Intercept one away!_" said a confident voice.

The last-launched missile fled toward the first moving speck,
diminishing as it went. It swung suddenly, off course.

"_Fire two!_" snapped somebody somewhere.

Another object hurtled away toward the stars.

"_Fire three! Fire four!_"

Far away, something came plunging toward the ship. It did not travel in
a straight line. It curved. It was not reasonable for a missile to
travel in a curved line. The interceptor missiles had to detect it,
swing to intercept, to accelerate furiously. The first interceptor
missed. Worse, it had lost its target. It went wandering vaguely among
the stars and was gone.

The second missed. The voice in the speaker seemed to crack.

"_Fire all missiles! They're turning too late! Pull 'em up ahead of the
damned thing!_"

The deadly contrivances plunged away and further away into emptiness.
The third interceptor missed. The fourth. Tiny specks moved gracefully
on the radar screen. There was something coming toward the ship that had
risen from Kandar. The tracer-trails of missiles appeared against the
stars. They made very pretty parabolas. That was all. The thing that was
coming left a tracer-trail too. It curved preposterously. The just-risen
ship furiously flung missiles at it. It did not dodge. But none of the
tracer-trails intersected its own. All of them passed to its rear.

For the fraction of a second it was visible as an object instead of a
speck. That object swelled.

It went by. Bors's voice, relayed, said,

"_Coup! You're out of action. Right?_"

The skipper of the ship just up from Kandar said grudgingly, "Hell, yes!
We threw fifteen missiles at it, and missed with every one! This is
magic! Can we all have this before the Mekinese get here?"

"_I hope so_," said Bors's voice. "_We're trying hard, anyhow. Will you
report to ground?_"

"_Right_," said the speakers in the ship which had just fired fifteen
missiles without a hit or interception. "_Off._"

And then the compartment doors opened again and the normal sounds of a
small fighting ship in space began again.

An hour later,