this

up, crowding around the partition to see and hear what was happening.
The beat of the summons echoed hollowly through the building. It might go on until the end of that battle or until there was some answer. But no answer came. The haze about the dots thickened until they were completely hidden in it and each spot was a stationary fire.
“Top pitch—!” that was Dalgre breathing the words down Kartr’s back. “Reaching overload fast. They can’t take that much longer—they can’t!”
“Tar—”
One spot swept from orange to yellow—to incandescent white. It was an instant of splendor and then it was gone. They blinked blinded eyes and looked again. But there was nothing—nothing at all of the two fiery spots. The dark glass of the screen where they had been was as bare and cold as the wastes of outer space it represented.
“Both—out!” Dalgre was the first to speak. “Overload and it blasted them both. One ship took the other with it.”
“But the third—it is still intact—” Zicti pointed out.
That was true. The battle had wiped out two ships, but the third dot still moved—the one which the Patrol ship had died to save. It was on course—toward Sol and Terra!
The clicking sound changed, made another series of coded calls. Smitt listened and read them aloud for his companions.
“Patrol—auxiliary—personnel ship—2210—calling nearest Patrol ship or station. Come in, please—come in. Survivors of Patrol Base CC4—calling nearest Patrol ship or station—off known courses—need guide call—come in please—”
“Survivors of Patrol Base CC4,” Rolth repeated. “But that was a Ranger Station! What in the name of Space—!”
“Pirate raid, maybe—” suggested Zinga.
“Pirates don’t tangle with the Patrol—” began Dalgre.
“You mean—pirates didn’t! We’ve been out of circulation and off the maps for some time. A coalition of pirate forces can do a lot of damage,” Zinga observed.
“Note also,” Zicti added to that, “this ship now flies from the more