Rip turned it on full, and the Connie barked quick instructions. The
exhausts died and five men filed out of each boat with hands held high.
Rip blew a drop of perspiration from the tip of his nose. Empty space! It
was a good thing Connie morale was bad. The enemy’s willingness to
surrender had saved them a costly fight.
The Planeteers rounded up the prisoners and secured them while Rip took an
anxious look at the communicator. It was about time he heard from Terra
base.
The light was glowing. For all he knew, it might have been glowing for
many minutes. He plugged into the circuit.
"This is Foster on the asteroid."
"Terra base to Foster. Listen, you will reach optimum position on the
time-distance curve at twenty-three-oh-six. Repeat back,
twenty-three-oh-six."
"Got it. We will reach optimum position at twenty-three-oh-six." He looked
at his chronometer and his pulse stopped. It was 2258! They had just eight
minutes before the sun caught them forever, atomic blast or no!
And the Connie cruiser was still overhead, with no friendly cruisers in
sight. He looked up, white-faced. Not only was the Connie still there, but
its main air lock was sliding open to disclose a new danger.
In the opening, ready to launch, an assault boat waited. The assault boats
were something only the Connies used. They were about four times the size
of a snapper-boat, less maneuverable but more powerful. They carried 20
men and a pair of guided missiles with atomic warheads!