Staring at the mass of vehicles parked out on the open mare, Doug muttered, "What we need is a good solar flare to knock out them out."

"That would only postpone the inevitable," Anson said.

Doug looked at her, sitting behind her desk. "Jinny, you used to be a lot of fun to talk to. You're getting morose."

"Yeah, I've noticed that, too," she answered, straight-faced. "Wonder why?"

"How old is this information?" Doug asked, pointing at the wallscreen.

"This is real-time," she said. "The bird's made four passes over the region, so far."

"And they haven't tried to blind it or knock it off the air?"

"Why bother?" Gordette said. "If I was running their operation, I'd want you to see how much stuff we got."

"It is kinda depressing," Anson agreed. Again, without looking Gordette's way.

"Who else has seen this?" Doug asked.

"Nobody," she replied sharply. "The bits are transmitted from the satellite to our computer and straight to my office. That's why I asked you to come here and see it. Not even Harry Clemens is getting this data."

"Good," Doug said. "It certainly is depressing."

"Three hundred troopers," Anson mused. "With missiles and all the other goodies."

"Well," Doug said, trying to brighten the mood, "at least we know they're still at Copernicus. They're not on their way here yet."

"Take 'em about two days to cover the distance?" Gordette asked.

"Just about," Doug replied.

"Two Earth days," Arisen said. "Forty-eight hours. Maybe a little less if they push it."

Steepling his fingers almost as if in prayer, Gordette said, "Well, if they're gonna knock out your satellite it'll be just before they haul ass and start on their way here."

"Why bother?"

"Standard operating procedure. No commander wants the enemy watching his route of march, if he can help it."

Anson looked from Gordette to the wall screen and back again. "So if our bird goes off the air…"

"That means they're starting on their way here," Doug finished for her.

As if on cue, the wallscreen display broke into wild jagged streaks and then went blank.

The three of them rushed down to the control center, once they were certain that the reconnaissance satellite had actually been knocked out, and the dead wallscreen wasn't merely a malfunction somewhere in the communications system.

"You want to launch another recce bird?" Anson asked as they dashed along the corridor, hurrying past startled people.

"Not much sense to that," Doug said over his shoulder.

"Yeah," Gordette agreed. "Just be target practice for them."

The control center was calm, with its usual air of controlled intensity, the quiet hum of consoles, the flickering of display screens in the dimly-lit chamber. Doug automatically glanced at the big wallscreen that displayed a schematic of the entire base. The usual scattering of red and yellow lights, but otherwise everything was operating normally.