The short hairs on the back of Rip’s neck prickled. Far above, blackness
blotted out stars in the shape of a spaceship. The Connie had arrived!
Rip ordered urgently, "Kemp! Stop cutting. The rest of you get the stuff
under cover. Ram it!" He hurried to lend a hand himself, hustling crates
into the cave.
Kemp had made astonishing progress. There was room for the crates, if
stacked properly, and for the men besides. Rip supervised the stacking,
then the placement of the rocket launcher at the entrance.
"All hands inside the boat," he ordered. "Dowst, be ready to take off at a
moment’s notice. You’ll have to buck this box around like never before."
He explained to the pilot his plan to dodge, keeping the asteroid between
the boat and the cruiser.
"We’ll make it, sir," Dowst said.
"I’m not worried," Rip replied, and wished it were true. He looked up at
the Connie again. It was getting larger. The cruiser was within a few
miles of the asteroid.
As Rip watched, fire spurted from the cruiser and it moved with gathering
speed toward the asteroid’s horizon. He watched the exhaust trail,
wondering why the Connie had blasted off.
"He has something up his sleeve," Koa muttered. "Wish we knew what."
"Let’s take no chances," Rip stated. "Come on."
The men were already in the boat. He and Koa joined them. They stood at a
window, watching the Connie’s trail.
The trail dwindled. Koa said, "Something’s up!" Suddenly new fire shot
from one side of the cruiser and it spun. Balancing fire came from the
other side, and for an instant the three exhausts formed a cross with the
darkness of the Connie’s hull in the center. Then they could see only the
exhausts from the sides. The stern flame was out of sight.
"He’s made a full turn to come back this way," Rip stated tensely. "Dowst,
get ready."
The Connie was perhaps 20 miles away. It grew larger, and the side jets
winked out. A few seconds later fire spurted from the nose.
Rip figured rapidly. The cruiser had gone away far enough to make a turn.
It had straightened out, heading right for them. Now the nose tube was
blasting, slowing the cruiser down.
He sighted, holding out one glove and gauging the Connie’s distance above
the horizon, and his heart speeded. The Connie was right on the horizon!
"Ram it!" Rip called. "Around the asteroid. Quick!"
Acceleration jammed him back against his men as Dowst blasted. No sooner
had he recovered than acceleration in a different direction shoved him up
to the ceiling so hard that his bubble rang. He clawed his way to the
window as the Connie cruiser flashed by, bathing the asteroid in glowing
flame.
There was a chorus of gasps from the men, as they saw the thing Rip had
realized a moment before. The Consops cruiser was playing it safe, using
its rocket exhaust as a great blowtorch to burn the surface of the
asteroid clean!
The sheer inhumanity of the thing made Rip’s stomach tighten into a knot.
No asking for surrender, no taking of prisoners. Not even a clean fight.
The Connie was doing its arguing with fire, knowing that the exhaust would
char every man on the asteroid’s surface.
The Planeteers watched as the Connie sped away, blasted with its side jets
and turned to come back. Dowst tensed over the controls, trying to
anticipate the next move. He touched the firing levers delicately, letting
out just enough flame to maneuver. He slid the craft over the asteroid’s
surface to the side away from the Connie, going slowly enough so they
could watch the enemy’s every move.
"Here he comes," Rip snapped, and braced for acceleration. The landing
craft shot to safety as the cruiser’s nose jet flamed. Dowst was just in
time. Tiny sparks from the edge of the fiery column brushed past the boat.
Rip realized that the Connie couldn’t know the Federation men were in a
boat, dodging. The cruiser would make about two more runs, just enough to
allow for hitting every bit of the asteroid. Then it would assume that
anything on it was finished and send a landing party.
"He’ll be back," he stated. "About twice more. Three at most." He suddenly
remembered the landing boat radio. "Dowst, where is the radio connection?"
The pilot handed him a wire with a jack plug on the end of it. Rip plugged
it into his belt. Now his voice would be heard on the _Scorpius_.
"Calling _Scorpius_! Calling _Scorpius_! Foster reporting. We are under
attack. Repeat, we are under attack. Over to you."
The answer rang in his helmet. "_Scorpius_ to Foster. Hold ’em,
Planeteers. We’re on our way!"
"Here comes the Connie," Koa yelled.
Rip braced. The landing boat shot forward, then piled the Planeteers in a
heap on the bottom as Dowst accelerated upward.
There was a sudden wrenching crash that sent the Planeteers in a jumbled
mass into the front of the boat. It whirled crazily, then stopped.
Rip was not hurt. He shoved at someone whose bubble was in his stomach and
cleared the way. "Turn on belt lights," he called. "Quick!"
Lights flared on. He searched quickly, swinging his light. The Planeteers
were getting to their feet. His light focused on Private Bradshaw and he
gasped.
Bradshaw’s face was scarlet, and his skin was flecked with drops of blood.
His eyes were closed, and bulging terribly.
Rip jumped forward, but big Koa was even faster. The Hawaiian jerked a
repair strip from a belt pouch, slapped it on the crack in Bradshaw’s
bubble.
Rip wasted no time, either. By the time Koa had the strip in place he had
pulled the connections from his belt light. He ran the tips of the wires
over the edges of the strip. The current sealed the patch in place
instantly.
Koa grabbed the atmosphere control on Bradshaw’s belt and turned it. The
suit puffed up. Rip watched the repair anxiously in the light from Koa’s
belt. It held.
Rip reconnected his light as he asked swiftly, "Anyone else hurt? Answer
by name."
There were quick replies; No one else had been injured.
"Run for the cave," Rip commanded. "Follow Koa. Santos and Pederson drag
Bradshaw."