"Lad, it's a pity for ye to miss the show. I'm sending a boat for ye."
"The sun will get it!" Rip exclaimed.
"Never fear, lad. It won't get this one. Now, switch back to universal
and listen in."
Rip did so in time to catch the Connie commander's voice. "... and I
refuse to believe such a story! Great Cosmos, do you think I am a fool?"
"Of course not," the Frenchman replied. "You are not such a fool as to
refuse a simple request to check our instruments."
The _Sagittarius_ commander was right. Rip understood the strategy.
Equipment sometimes did go out of operation in space, and Connies had
no hesitation in asking Federation cruisers for help, or the other way
around. Such help was always given, because no commander could be
sure when he might need help himself.
"I agree," the Connie commander said with obvious reluctance. "You may
send a boat."
MacFife's Scotch burr broke in. "Federation SCN _Aquila_ to Consolidation
Sixteen. Mister, my instruments are off scale, too. I'll just send them
along to ye, and ye can check them while ye're doing the _Sagittarius_!"
"I object!" the Connie bellowed.
"Come, now," MacFife burred soothingly. "Checking a few instruments won't
hurt ye."
A small rocket exhaust appeared, leaving the _Aquila_. The exhaust grew
rapidly, more rapidly than that of any snapper-boat. Rip watched it,
while keeping his ears tuned to the space conversation.
"Surely sending boats is too much of a nuisance," the French commander
said winningly. "We will come alongside."
"It's a trick," the Connie growled. "You want me to open my valves, and
then your men will board us and try to take over my ship!"
"My friend, you have a suspicious mind," Galliene replied smoothly. "If
you wish, arm your men. Ours will have no weapons. Train launchers on the
valves, so our men will be annihilated before they can board if you see a
single weapon."
This was going a little far, Rip thought, but it was not his affair, and
he didn't know exactly what MacFife and Galliene had in mind.
The _Aquila's_ boat arrived with astonishing speed. Rip saw it flash in
the sunlight and knew he had never seen one like it before. It was a
perfect globe, about twenty feet in diameter. Blast holes covered the
globe at intervals of six feet.
The boat settled to the asteroid, and a new voice called over the helmet
circuit, "Where's Foster? Show an exhaust! We're in a rush."
"Yes, sir."
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-suited 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."
Rip 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.
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. They 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?"