the doughnut centered on the line of
approach.

* * * * *

Roboscouts appeared and blossomed briefly as they died. The fuzzy patch
of light on the screens swelled, then began to resolve into individual
points. The first missiles arrived. Intricate patterns of incandescence
formed and vanished as fire-control systems locked wits.

A sudden, brilliantly planned salvo came streaking in, saturating the
defenses along its path. Ships in Tulan's secondary formation swerved
frantically, but one darting, corkscrewing missile homed on a Heavy, and
for an instant there were two suns.

Tulan, missing Jezef's smooth help, was caught up in the daze and strain
of battle now. He punched buttons and shouted orders as he played the
fleet to match the enemy's subtle swerving. Another heavy salvo came
in, but the computers had its sources pinpointed now, and it was
contained. These first few seconds favored the enemy, who was only
fighting the light shield in front of Tulan's formation.

Now the swelling mass of blips streaked apart in the viewers and space
lit up with the fire and interception. Two ships met head on; at such
velocities it was like a nuclear blast.

Then Coar's ships crashed through the shield and into the center of the
doughnut. Ringed, outgunned, outpredicted, they hit such a concentration
of missiles that it might as well have been a solid wall. Ships
disintegrated as if on a common fuse; the ones that didn't take direct
hits needed none, in that debris-filled stretch of hell.

Tulan's flagship rocked in the wave of expanding hot gasses. There was a
jolt as some piece of junk hit her; if she hadn't already been under
crushing acceleration away from the inferno she'd have been holed.

From a safer distance the path of destruction was a bright slash across
space, growing into the distance with its momentum. It was annihilation,
too awful for triumph; there was only horror in it. Tulan knew that with
this overwhelming tactic he'd written a new text-book for action against
an inferior fleet. He hoped it would never be printed. Sweating and
weak, he slumped in his straps and was ill.

* * * * *

While brief repairs and re-arming were under way, he sent scouts
spiraling out to pick up any radio beams from Sennech or Teyr. There
were none. The telescopes showed Sennech's albedo down to a fraction of
normal; that, he supposed, would indicate smoke in the