"Now what?" Pedersen asked.
"We get something else."
"What?--Bordoni had the only squirm aboard. I know. I shook the ship
down--there isn't a thing one tenth as--"
"Enemy has matched components," the talker said.
"Down two shades," Fiske ordered. "We can dodge for awhile," he said
absently as the ship dropped into a deeper red monochrome, "but he'll
get us eventually."
"Sir, the engine room broke in. The converters aren't going to take
much more of this--we're on twenty percent overload right now!"
"They'll have to take it," Fiske snapped. "If we want to stay alive!"
"I'll try to keep 'em going, boss," Sandoval's voice broke in.
"Thanks Sandy." Fiske cut off. "Now about the noise business--"
"Well," Pedersen said--"You might try doing it yourself. Seems that I
remember you howling like a wounded wolf a few days ago, just before we
clobbered that Eglan base. If it's noise you want, why don't you give
out with a few warwhoops. You damn near lifted the lid off this can."
Fiske's eyes widened. "You have something there," he admitted. He
flipped the selector to communications. "George," he said, "can you
rig a continuous tape playback into that broadcaster? Bordoni's
aborted,--smashed his records."
"Sure. Give me ten minutes."
"Make it five and send one of your boys up here. I have a package for
him." Fiske switched off and turned to Pedersen. "Have someone go to my
quarters and get that roll of sound tape out of my locker. It's in the
upper left compartment. Give it to George's man when he shows up." He
looked at Pedersen's puzzled expression and grinned. "We're not licked
yet, Oley."
"Enemy has matched component," the talker said.
"Down two shades--and keep changing our course. Don't follow one line
for more than ten seconds," Fiske ordered.
"That gives us about four more drops before we breakout," the pilot's
voice said over the speaker. "And we can't dodge too long. He can
outmaneuver us, and ride us right out of Cth."
"How long?"
"Maybe five minutes--maybe less."
"Well--get on with it--we can't stay here"--Fiske looked glumly at the
control board. There was nothing he could do at the moment.
"Aye sir." The red monochrome deepened a trifle as the "Dauntless"
dropped closer to breakout.
"Damn--they're quick!" Fiske muttered.
"We're not going to be here long at this rate," Pedersen observed.
"We do what we can. Unless we get that broadcast rigged we've got no
chance at all." Fiske lapsed into silence.
* * * * *
A minute passed as the "Dauntless" dodged frantically and the Eglan
maneuvered for position.
"Enemy has matched component," the talker said. Instantly the
"Dauntless" was surrounded by a reddish-black gloom.
"Infra band coming," Pedersen remarked. "Our spotting isn't too good
there. He can be on top of us before we know it."
"Let's hope theirs isn't either," Fiske answered absently.
"Enemy has matched component," the talker said.
"Well--that's that," Fiske said with grudging admiration as the ship
went dark, and began to buck and shudder in the stress area at the
border of Cth and normal space. "He's just about kicked us out of
commission."
A violent shock lifted the cruiser and shook her. Metal screamed and
ripped as the ship, struck by a mine at the very edge of Cth, was
driven downward through the border into breakout. Flashes and pinwheels
of light flamed across Fiske's eyes as the ship spun madly into normal
space.