"Yessir."
He hurried to the boat and stood there, bewildered. He didn’t know how to
get in.
"Up here," the voice called. He looked up and saw a hatch. He jumped and a
space-clad figure pulled him inside. The door shut and the boat blasted
off. Acceleration shoved him backward, but the spaceman snapped a line to
his belt, then motioned him to a seat. Rip pulled himself up the line and
got into the seat, snapping the harness in place.
"I’m Hawkins, senior space officer," the spaceman said. "Welcome, Foster.
We’ve been losing weight wondering if we’d get here in time."
"I was never so glad to see spacemen in my life," Rip said truthfully.
"What kind of craft is this, sir?"
"Experimental," the space officer answered. "It has a number, but we call
it the ball-bat because it’s shaped like a ball and goes like a bat. We
were about to take off for some test runs around the space platform when
we got a hurry call to come here. The _Aquila_ has two of these. If they
prove out, they’ll replace the snapper-boats. More power, greater
maneuverability, heavier weapons, and they carry more men."
There was only the officer and a pilot, but Rip saw positions for several
others.
He looked out through the port and saw the two Federation cruisers closing
in on the Connie. Apparently the Connie commander had agreed to let the
cruisers come alongside.
The ball-bat blasted to the _Aquila_, paused at an open port, then slid
inside. The valve was shut before Rip could unbuckle his harness. Air
flooded into the chamber and the lights flicked on. The space officer gave
Rip a hand out of the harness, and the young Planeteer went through the
hatch to the deck.
The inner valve opened and a lean, sandy-haired officer in space blue with
the insignia of a commander stepped through. Grinning, he hurried to Rip’s
side and twisted his bubble, lifting it off.
"Hurry, lad," he greeted Rip. "I’m MacFife. Get out of that suit quick,
because ye don’t want to miss what’s aboot to happen." With his own hands
he unlocked the complicated belt with its gadgets and equipment,
disconnected the communicator and ventilator, and then unfastened the lock
clips that held top and bottom of the suit together.
Rip slipped the upper part over his head and stepped out of the bottom.
"Thanks, Commander. I’m one grateful Planeteer, believe me!"
"Come on. We’ll hurry right across ship to the opposite valve. Lad, I’ve a
son in the Planeteers and he’s just about your own age. He’s on Ganymede.
He and the others will be proud of what ye’ve done."
MacFife was pulling himself along rapidly by the convenient handholds. Rip
followed, his breathing a little rapid in the heavier air of the ship. He
followed the Scottish commander through the maze of passages that crossed
the ship and stopped at a valve where spacemen were waiting. With them was
an officer who carried a big case.
"The instruments," MacFife said, pointing. "We’ve tinkered with them a bit
just to make it look real."
"But why do you want to board the Connie?" Rip asked curiously.