Technicians worked over Guy's thought-beam, and produced a large one for each ship in the small group. Maynard's fleet would be knit with thought-communications, and no interference would cause them to lose control. Other technicians toyed with the vortex projectors, and though Guy saw no more success here than on Ertene, the amount of activity was higher by far, and in a few weeks the Terrans had passed the most advanced researches of the Ertinians. A convoy of Terran ships approached, and Guy merely smiled. "I've been expecting them. Go get 'em, Harrison!" "Right. They're replacements for this gang?" "Were." "Why don't we wake up the gang that was here when you came?" "You know that. I can't trust 'em. I brought you fellows back--at least you owe me your lives." "I'll argue that point when I get back. Ships, supplies, and men! We need 'em!" The little fleet sped out to contact the larger convoy. Unlike the usual Terran procedure, Maynard's fleet spread wide apart, and waited in the dark of space, behind barriers. It would have been slaughter again. This convoy expected to find its own men awaiting supply and materials. Instead, the vortex projectors spewed. Out they rolled, and the barriers went down as they passed. Turreted MacMillans whirled, and the invisible energies laced the sky. Torpedoes winked in gouts of flame and the interferers chopped the communications band into uselessness. Maynard's ships fired a second series before the first reached the Terrans, and the Terrans, fighting their own velocity, rolled into the whirling toroids firing their AutoMacs to the last. Ships rained out of the sky in flaming ruin, cut bright arcs in the sky, and died. And then it was all over. Massacre it would have been if the vortex projectors had been deadly. The Terran convoy was not prepared to meet a powerful fleet, and it succumbed in a matter of seconds. Cradling pressors lowered the Terran ships to ground, and Maynard's men took possession. "Well?" asked Harrison. "Have we got what it takes?" "Not enough," said Guy glumly. "There was one constellation craft in that bunch--the _Leoniad_. It's a creaky old crate that uses co-ordinator fire in the turrets instead of autosyncs. Her torpedo tubes are rusty, her generator room reeks, and her drive is one of those constantly variable affairs that never settles down to a smooth run. The _Leoniad_ is a derelict, as far as I'm concerned. The smaller stuff is fine business, though I doubt that they could stand up to a half dozen constellations. We'll fit the old tub up, though, and use her. She's all we have in that class." "Any chance of getting more?" "Might raid Ertene. I think it might be easy--Ertene is none too sharp invasionwise. They're armed to the teeth with vortex jobs, though." "Vortexes aren't deadly." "A local anaesthetic would be a killer-weapon if you could numb up a man's trigger finger only," grinned Guy. "Might as well be dead as sleeping it off on Ertene."