In the instant of hearing his name each Techno stabbed down a series of studs and there flowed into his ears a rapid stream of figures--the up-to-the-second data from every point of observation as to every element of motion of his target. He punched the figures into his calculator, which would correct automatically for the motion of his own vessel--glanced once at the printed solution of the problem--tramped down upon a pedal once, twice, or three times, depending upon the number of projectiles he had been directed to handle. Kinnison had ordered Lawrence, a better shot than Doyle, to launch two torpedoes; neither of which, at such long range, was expected to strike its mark. His second, however, should come close; so close that the instantaneous data sent back to both screens--and to Kinnison's--by the torpedo itself would make the target a sitting duck for Doyle, the less proficient follower. Drummond, Kinnison's Number Three, would not launch his missiles unless Doyle missed. Nor could both Drummond and Harper, Kinnison's Number Two, be "out" at once. One of the two had to be "in" at all times, to take Kinnison's place in charge of the Sector if the Chief were ordered out. For while Kinnison could order either Harper or Drummond on target, he could not send himself. He could go out only when ordered to do so by Fire Control: Sector Chiefs were reserved for emergency use only. "Target Two--Zone Nine," Fire Control said. "Carney, two. French, one. Day, stand by with three!" Kinnison ordered. "Damn it--missed!" This from Doyle. "Buck fever--no end." "O.K., boy--that's why we're starting so soon. I'm shaking like a vibrator myself. We'll get over it...." The point of light which represented Target One bulged slightly and went out. Drummond had connected and was back "in". "Target Three--Zone Eight. Four--eight," Fire Control remarked. "Target Three--Higgins and Green; Harper stand by. Four--Case and Santos: Lawrence." After a minute or two of actual combat the Technos of Sector A began to steady down. Stand-by men were no longer required and were no longer assigned. "Target Forty-one--six," said Fire Control; and: "Lawrence, two. Doyle, two," ordered Kinnison. This was routine enough, but in a moment: "Ted!" Lawrence snapped. "Missed--wide--both barrels. Forty-one's dodging--manned or directed--coming like hell--watch it, Doyle--WATCH IT!" "Kinnison, take it!" Fire Control barked, voice now neither low nor steady, and without waiting to see whether Doyle would hit or miss. "It's in Zone Three already--collision course!" "Harper! Take over!" Kinnison got the data, solved the equations, launched five torpedoes at fifty gravities of acceleration. One ... two--three-four-five; the last three as close together as they could fly without setting off their proximity fuzes.