THE COSMIC COMPUTER

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They'd known what they were doing. He was playing this battle by ear.

There was a lot of shouting ahead to the right. That meant live pirates,
a deplorable situation which ought to be corrected at once. The
communication screen was noisy, now; his father had gotten to the top
gallery with the three gun cutters, and was meeting resistance. He
formed his column, his jeep and one of the lorries in front, the scows
next, and the second lorry behind, and started around the gallery
counterclockwise, the snoopers and the three remaining bomb-robots
ahead. They began running into resistance almost at once.

Bullets spatted on the armor glass in front of him, spalling it and
blotching it with metal until he found that he could steer better by the
show-back of his view-pickup. He used that until the pickup was shot
out. Then his father began wanting to know, from the communication
screen, what was going on and where he was. A bomb or something went off
directly under the jeep, bouncing it almost to the ceiling; he found