"Yeah." Joe Rossi stubbed out his cigarette. "They sure did. That was at
one o'clock. At two they drove a wedge right through the center of our
line. Split the fleet in half. Broke it up--sent it running. Picked us
off one by one as we fell back. Christ, they're like maniacs. Now that
they've got the scent, the taste of our blood."
"But it's getting better," Leah fluttered. "Our main fleet units are
beginning to appear."
"We'll get them," Joe muttered. "It'll take a while. But by God we'll
wipe them out. Every last one of them. If it takes a thousand years.
We'll follow every last ship down--we'll get them all." His voice rose
in frenzy. "Beetles! Goddamn insects! When I think of them, trying to
hurt my kid, with their filthy black claws--"
"If you were younger, you'd be in the line," Leah said. "It's not your
fault you're too old. The heart strain's too great. You did your job.
They can't let an older person take chances. It's not your fault."
Joe clenched his fists. "I feel so--futile. If there was only something
I could do."
"The fleet will take care of them," Leah said soothingly. "You said so
yourself. They'll hunt every one of them down. Destroy them all. There's
nothing to worry about."
Joe sagged miserably. "It's no use. Let's cut it out. Let's stop kidding
ourselves."
"What do you mean?"
"Face it! We're not going to win, not this time. We went too far. Our
time's come."
There was silence.