In Pasadena, as Diedre looked at the images of the light cannon, the germ of an idea crept into her mind. “Suppose Clem crashed into it?”
The control room was dead silent for a moment. Then Frank said, “Yeah, by golly. You’ve got a good idea there. Just maybe—”
Lloyd came to life. “By God, that’s it!” He pounded a fist on the desktop. “If Clem hits them right here—” he pointed to a small opening in the turret just below the gun barrel, “—she oughta make one hell of a bang.”
Diedre looked at him in surprise. The dullness in his eyes had been replaced by a maniacal light.
“All right!” Frank shouted loud enough to match Lloyd. “Let’s do it.”