Carolyn's shrill laugh drowned out his weak voice.
The radio went on as accursedly unanswerable as always. "Farradyne's
spacecraft has been trapped and fired upon and now the pilot himself
has been flushed from cover. He is making the criminal's last-stand.
The rascal is hoping to flee through the most thorough skycover that
has ever been assembled. He cannot hope to win though, ladies and
gentlemen. I wish we had video here in the early morning light, so that
you could see this vivid spectacle of the eternal battle between the
forces of good and evil!
"But we'll all be there when Farradyne goes down to the death of flame
he so richly deserves. Above him now are the jet bombers and above them
lie the Interplanetary Space Guard to fire the final coup de grace--if
Farradyne can run this gauntlet of righteous wrath that far.
"His flare trail is dimmed by the pinpoints of flashing death that
seek him out. On every side of me are ships vomiting torpedoes, guided
missiles with target-seeking radar in their sleek noses that will end
this reign of terror and dissolution once they find their mark."
Farradyne looked up at Carolyn and saw a glow of excitement in her
eyes. She looked down at him and said, "Charles, you almost succeeded--"
The radio clicked audibly and a forceful voice came on: "Attention!
Attention! All listeners hear this. This is the office of the Secretary
of Solar Defense, Under Secretary Marshall White speaking. All persons,
whether official or unofficial, whether citizen or military, are
hereby charged with the safety of Charles Farradyne and the Lancaster
model Eighty-One in his possession. This is a 'Cease Fire' order. All
citizens and military personnel, officials and non-officials are hereby
ordered to offer Charles Farradyne whatever he may request in the
nature of manpower, machinery, supplies, protection, material and safe
conduct so that he may deliver his spacecraft to the Terran Arsenal at
Terre Haute, Indiana."
Morgan looked at Farradyne with a scowl.