The Planeteers knew what to do. Corporal Pederson produced hardened steel spikes with ring tops. Private Trudeau had a sledge. Driving the first spike would be the hardest, because the action of swinging the hammer would propel the Planeteer like a rocket exhaust. In space, the law that every action has an equal and opposite reaction had to be remembered every moment.

Rip watched, interested in how his men would tackle the problem. He didn't know the answer himself, because he had never driven a spike on an airless, almost gravityless world and no one had ever mentioned it to him.

Pederson searched the gray metal with his torch and found a slender spur of thorium perhaps two feet high a short distance from the boat. "Here's a hold," he said. "Come on, Frenchy. You, too, Bradshaw."

Trudeau, carrying the sledge, walked up to the spur of rock and stood with his heels against it. Pederson sat down on the ground with the spur between his legs. He stretched, hooking his heels around Trudeau's ankles, anchoring him. With his gloves he grabbed the seat of the Frenchman's space suit.

Bradshaw took a spike and held it against the gray metal ground. The Frenchman swung, his hammer noiseless as it drove the tough spike in. A few inches into the metal was enough. Bradshaw took a wrench from his belt, put it on the head of the spike and turned it. Below the surface, teeth on the spike bit into the metal. It would hold.

The rest was easy. The spike was used to anchor Trudeau while he drove another, at his longest reach. Then the second spike became his anchor, and so on, until enough spikes had been set to lace the boat down against any sudden shock.

The boat piloted by the spaceman was tied to the one that would remain and the Planeteers floated its supplies through a window. It took only a few moments, with Planeteers forming a chain from inside the boat to a spot a little distance away. Even the heaviest crates weighed almost nothing. They passed them from one to the other like balloons.

"All clear, sir," Koa called.

Rip stepped inside and made a quick inspection. The box was empty except for the spaceman pilot. He put a hand on the pilot's shoulder. "On your way, Rocky. Thanks."

"You're welcome, sir." The pilot added, "Watch out for high vack."

Rip and Koa stepped out and walked a little distance away. Santos and Pederson cast the landing boat adrift and shoved it away from the anchored boat. In a moment fire spurted from the bottom tube, spreading over the dull metal and licking at the feet of the Planeteers.

Rip watched the boat rise upward to the great, sleek, dark bulk of the Scorpius. The landing boat maneuvered into the air lock with brief flares from its exhausts. In a few moments the sparkling blast of auxiliary rocket tubes moved the spaceship away. O'Brine was putting a little distance between his ship and the asteroid before turning on the nuclear drive. The ship decreased in size until Rip saw it only as a dark, oval silhouette against the Milky Way, then the exhaust of the nuclear drive grew into a mighty column of glowing blue and the ship flamed into space.

For a moment Rip had a wild impulse to yell for the ship to come back. He had been in vacuum before, but only as a cadet, with an officer in charge. Now, suddenly, he was the one responsible. The job was his. He stiffened. Planeteer officers didn't worry about things like that. He forced his mind to the job in hand.

The next step was to establish a base. The base would have to be on the dark side of the asteroid, once it was in its new orbit. That meant a temporary base now and a better one later, when they had blasted the little planet onto its new course. He estimated roughly the approximate positions where he would place his charges, using the sun and the star Canopus as visual guides.

"This will do for a temporary base," he announced. "Rig the boat compartment. While two of you are doing that, the rest break out the rocket launcher and rocket racks and assemble the cutting torch. Koa will make assignments."

While the sergeant-major translated Rip's general instructions into specific orders for each man, the young lieutenant walked to the edge of the sun belt. There was no atmosphere, so the edge was a sharp line between dark and light. There wasn't much light, either. They were too far from the sun for that. But as they neared the sun, the darkness would be their protection. They would get so close to Sol that the metal on the sun side would get soft as butter.

He bent close to the uneven surface. It was clean metal, not oxidized at all. The thorium had never been exposed to oxygen. Here and there, pyramids of metal thrust up from the asteroid, sometimes singly, sometimes in clusters. They were metal crystal formations. He guessed that once, long ages ago, the asteroid had been a part of something much bigger, perhaps a planet. One theory said the asteroids were formed when a planet exploded. This asteroid might have been a pocket of pure thorium in the planet.

There would be plenty to do in a short while, but meanwhile he enjoyed the sensation of being on a tiny world in space with only a handful of Planeteers for company. He smiled. "King Foster," he said to himself. "Monarch of a thorium space speck." It was a rather nice feeling, even though he laughed at himself for thinking it. Since he was in command of the detachment, he could in all truth say this was his own personal planet. It would be a good bit of space humor to spring on the folks back on Terra.

"Yep, I was boss of a whole world, once. Made myself king. Emperor of all the metal molecules and king of the thorium spurs. And my subjects obeyed my every command." He added, "Thanks to Planeteer discipline. The detachment commander is boss."

He reminded himself that he'd better stop gathering spacedust and start acting like a detachment commander. He walked back to the landing boat, stepping with care. With such low gravity a false step could send him high above the asteroid. Of course that would not be dangerous, since the space suits were equipped with six small compressed air bottles for emergency propulsion. But it would be embarrassing.

Inside the boat, Dowst and Nunez were setting up the compartment. Sections of the rear wall swung out and locked into place against airtight seals, forming a box at the rear end of the boat. Equipment sealed in the stern next to the rocket tube supplied light, heat, and air. It was a simple but necessary arrangement. Without it, the Planeteers could not have eaten.

There was no air lock for the compartment. The half of the detachment not on duty would walk in, seal it up, turn on the equipment, and wait until the gauges registered sufficient air and heat, then remove their space suits. When it was time to leave again, they would don suits, open the door and walk out, and the next shift would enter and repeat the process. Earlier models had permanent compartments, but they took up too much room in craft designed for carrying as many men and as much equipment as possible. They were strictly work boats, and hard experience had showed the best design.

The rocket launcher was already set up near the boat. It was a simple affair, with four adjustable legs bolted to ground spikes. The legs held a movable cradle in which the rocket racks were placed. High-geared hand controls enabled the gunner to swing the cradle at high speed in any direction except straight down. A simple, illuminated optical sight was all the gunner needed. Since there was no gravity and no atmosphere in space, the missiles flashed out in a straight line, continuing on into infinity if they missed their targets. Proximity fuses made this a remote possibility. If the rocket got anywhere near the target, the shell would explode.

Rip found his astrogation instruments set carefully to one side. He took the data sheets from his case and examined them. Now came the work of finding the exact spots in which to place his atomic charges. Since the computer aboard ship had done all the mathematics necessary, he needed only to take sights to determine the precise positions.

He took a transit-like instrument from the case, pulled out the legs of its self-contained tripod, then carried it to a spot near where he had estimated the first charge would be placed. The instrument was equipped with three movable rings to be set for the celestial equator, for the zero meridian, and for the right ascension of any convenient star. Using a regular level would have been much simpler. The instrument had one, but with so little gravity to activate it, the thing was useless.

The sights were specially designed for use in space and his bubble was no obstacle in taking observations. He merely put the clear plastic against the curved sight and looked into it much as he would have looked through a telescope on earth.

As he did so, a hint of pale pink light caught the corner of his eye. He backed away from the instrument and turned his head quickly, looking at the colorimeter-type radiation detector at the side of his helmet. It was glowing.

An icy chill sent a shiver through him. Great, gorgeous galaxies! He had forgotten ... had Koa and the others? He turned so fast he lost balance and floated above the surface like a captive balloon. Santos, who had been standing near by to help if requested, hooked a toe on a ground spike, caught him, and set him upright on the ground again.

"Get me the radiation detection instruments," he ordered.

Koa sensed the urgency in his voice and got the instruments himself. Rip switched them on and read the illuminated dial on the alpha counter. Plenty high, as was natural. But no danger there—alpha particles couldn't penetrate the space suits. Then, his hand clammy inside the space glove, he switched on the other meter. The gamma count was far below the alpha, but there were too many of the rays around for comfort. Inside the helmet, his face turned pale.

There was no immediate danger. It would take many days to build up a dose of gamma that could hurt them. But gamma was not the only radiation. They were in space, fully exposed to equally dangerous cosmic radiation.

The Planeteers had gathered while he read the instruments. Now they stood watching him. They knew the significance of what he had found.

"I ought to be busted to recruit," he told them. "I knew this asteroid was thorium, and that thorium is radioactive. If I had used my head, I would have added nuclite shielding to the list of supplies the Scorpius provided. We could have had enough of it to protect us while around our base, even if we couldn't be protected while working on the charges. That would at least have kept our dosage down enough for safety."

"No one else thought of it, either, sir," Koa reminded.

"It was my job to think of it, and I didn't. So I've put us in a time squeeze. If the Scorpius gets back soon, we can get the shielding before our radiation dosage has built up very high. If the ship doesn't come back, the dosage will mount."

He looked at them grimly. "It won't kill us, and it won't even make us very sick. I'll have the ship take us off before we build up that much dosage."

Santos started. "But, sir! That means ..."

"I know what it means," Rip stated bitterly. "It means the ship has got to return in time to give us some nuclite shielding, or we'll be the laughingstock of the Special Order Squadrons—the detachment that started a job the spacemen had to finish!"



CHAPTER SEVEN - EARTHBOUND!

There was something else that Rip didn't add, although he knew the Planeteers would realize it in a few minutes. Probably some of them already had thought of it.

To move the asteroid into a new orbit, they were going to fire nuclear bombs. Most of the highly radioactive fission products would be blown into space, but some would be drawn back by the asteroid's slight gravity. The craters would be highly radioactive and some radioactive debris would be scattered around, too. Every particle would add to the problem.

"Is there anything we can do, sir?" Koa asked.

Rip shook his head inside the transparent bubble. "If you have a good luck charm in your pocket, you might talk to it. That's about all."

Nuclear physics had been part of his training. He read the gamma meter again and did some quick mental calculations. They would be exposed to radiation for the entire trip, at a daily dosage of—

Koa interrupted his train of thought. Evidently the sergeant-major had been doing some calculations of his own. "How long will we be on this rock, sir? You've never told us how long the trip will take."

Rip said quietly, "With luck, it will take us a little more than three weeks."

He could see their faces faintly in the dim sunlight. They were shocked. Space ships blasted through space between the inner planets in a matter of hours. The nuclear drive cruisers, which could approach almost half the speed of light, had brought even distant Pluto within easy reach. The inner planets could be covered in a matter of minutes on a straight speed run, although to take off from one and land on the other meant considerable time used in acceleration and deceleration.

The Planeteers were used to such speed. Hearing that it would take over three weeks to reach earth had jarred them.

"This piece of metal isn't a space ship," Rip reminded them. "At the moment, our speed around the sun is just slightly more than ten miles a second. If we just shifted orbits and kept the same speed, it would take us months to reach Terra. But we'll use two bombs to kick the asteroid into the orbit, then fire one to increase speed. The estimate is that we'll push up to about forty miles a second."

Koa spoke up. "That's not bad when you think that Mercury is the fastest planet and it only makes about thirty miles a second."

"Right," Rip agreed. "And when we really have the sun's gravity pulling us, we'll increase speed. We'll lose a little after we pass the sun, but by then we'll be almost home."

It was just space luck that Terra was on the other side of the sun from the asteroid's present position. By the time they approached, it would be in a good place, just far enough from the line to the sun to avoid changing course. Of course Rip's planned orbit was not aiming the asteroid at earth, but at where earth would be at the end of the trip.

"That means more than three weeks of radiation, then," Corporal Santos observed. "Can we take it, sir?"

Rip shrugged, but the gesture couldn't be seen inside his space suit. "At the rate we're getting radiation now, plus what I estimate we'll get from the nuclear explosions, we'll get the maximum safety limit in just three weeks. That leaves us no margin, even if we risk getting radiation sickness. So we have to get shielding pretty soon. If we do, we can last the trip."

Private Dominico saluted, clumsy in his space suit. "Sir, I ask permission to speak."

Rip hid a smile at the little Italian's formal manner. In space, formality was forgotten. "What is it, Dominico?"

"Sir, I think we not worry so much about this radiation, eh? You will think of some ways to take care of it, sir. What I want to ask, sir, is when do we let go the bombs? Radiation I do not know much about, but I can set those bombs like you want them."

Rip was touched by the Italian Planeteer's faith in his ability to solve the radiation problem. That was why being an officer in the Special Order Squadrons was so challenging. The men knew the kind of training their officers had and they expected them to come up with technical solutions as the situation required.

"You'll have a chance to set the bombs in just a short while," he said crisply. "Let's get busy. Koa, load all bombs but one ten KT on the landing boat. Stake the rest of the equipment down. While you're doing that, I'll find the spots where we plant the charges. I'll need two men now and more later."

He went back to his instrument, putting the radiation problem out of his mind—a rather hard thing to do with the colorimeter glowing pink next to his shoulder. Koa detailed men to load the nuclear bombs into the landing craft, left Pederson to supervise, and then brought Santos with him to help Rip.

"The bombs are being put on the boat, sir," Koa reported.

"Fine. There isn't too much chance of the blasts setting them off, but we'll take no chances at all. Koa, I'm going to shoot a line straight out toward Alpha Centauri. You walk that way and turn on your belt light. I'll tell you which way to move."

He adjusted his sighting rings while the sergeant-major glided away. Moving around on a no-weight world was more like skating than walking. A regular walk would have lifted Koa into space with every step. Of course the asteroid had some gravity, but it was so slight that it didn't count.

Rip centered the top of the instrument's vertical hair line on Alpha Centauri, then waited until Koa was almost out of sight over the asteroid's horizon, which was only a few hundred yards away.

He turned up the volume on his helmet communicator. "Koa, move about ten feet to your left."

Koa did so. Rip sighted past the vertical hairline at the belt light. "That's a little too far. Take a small step to the right. Good ... just a few inches more ... hold it. You're right in position. Stand where you are."

"Yessir."

Rip turned to Santos. "Stand here, Corporal. Take a sight at Koa through the instrument to get your bearings, then hold position."

Santos did so. Now the two lights gave Rip one of the lines he needed. He called for two more men, and Trudeau and Nunez joined him. "Follow me," he directed.

Rip picked up the instrument and carried it to a point 90 degrees from the line represented by Koa and Santos. He put the instrument down and zeroed it on Messier 44, the Beehive star cluster in the constellation Cancer. For the second sighting star he chose Beta Pyxis as being closest to the line he wanted, made the slight adjustments necessary to set the line of sight since Pyxis wasn't exactly on it, then directed Trudeau into position as he had Koa. Nunez took position behind the instrument and Rip had the cross-fix he wanted.

He called for Dowst, then carried the instrument to the center of the cross formed by the four men. Using the instrument, he rechecked the lines from the center out. They were within a hair or two of being exactly on, and a slight error wouldn't hurt anyway. He knew he would have to correct with rocket blasts once the asteroid was in the new orbit.

"X marks the spot," he told Dowst. He put his toe on the place where the cross lines met.

Dowst took a spike from his belt and made an X in the metal ground.

"All set," Rip announced. "You four men can move now. Let's have the cutting equipment over here, Koa."

The Planeteers were all waiting for instructions now. In a few moments the equipment was ready, fuel and oxygen bottles attached.

"Who's the champion torchman?" Rip asked.

Koa replied, "Kemp is, sir."

Kemp, one of the two American privates, took the torch and waited for orders. "We need a hole six feet across and twenty feet deep," Rip told him. "Go to it."

"How about direction, sir?" Kemp asked.

"Straight down. We'll take a bearing on an overhead star when you're in a few feet."

Dowst inscribed a circle around the X he had made and stood back. Kemp pushed the striker button and the torch flared. "Watch your eyes," he warned. The Planeteers reached for belt controls and turned the rheostats that darkened the clear bubbles electronically. Kemp adjusted his flame until it was blue-white, a knife of fire brighter by far than the sun.

Koa stepped behind Kemp and leaned against his back, because the flame of the torch was like an exhaust, driving Kemp backward. Kemp bent down and the torch sliced into the metal of the asteroid like a hot knife into ice. The metal splintered a little as the heat raised it instantly from almost absolute zero to many thousands of degrees.

When the circle was completed, Kemp adjusted his torch again and the flame lengthened. He moved inside the circle and cut at an angle toward the perimeter. His control was quick and certain. In a moment he stood aside and Koa lifted out a perfect ring of thorium. It varied from a knife edge on the inner side to 18 inches thick on the outer edge.

In the middle of the circle there was now a cone of metal. Kemp cut around it, the torch angling toward the center. A piece shaped like two cones set base to base came free. Since the metal cooled in the bitter chill of space almost as fast as Kemp could cut it, there was no heat to worry about.

Alternately cutting from the outside and the center of the hole, Kemp worked his way downward until his head was below ground level. Rip called a halt. Kemp gave a little jump and floated straight upward. Koa caught him and swung him to one side. Rip stepped into the hole and Santos gave him a slight push to send him to the bottom. Rip knelt and sighted upward. Kemp had done a good job. The star Rip had chosen as an overhead guide was straight up.

He bounced out of the hole and as Koa caught him he told Kemp to go ahead. "Dominico, here's your chance. Get tools and wire. Find a timer and connect up the ten kiloton bomb. Nunez, bring it here while Dominico gets what he needs."

Kemp was burning his way into the asteroid at a good rate. Every few moments he pushed another circle or spindle of thorium out of the hole. Rip directed some of the men to carry them away, to the other side of the asteroid. He didn't want chunks of thorium flying around from the blast.

The sergeant-major had a sudden thought. He cut off his communicator, motioned to Rip to do the same, then put his helmet against Rip's for direct communication. He didn't want the others to hear what he had to say. His voice came like a roar from, the bottom of a well. "Lieutenant, do you suppose there's any chance the blast might break up the asteroid? Maybe split it in two?"

The same thought had occurred to Rip on the Scorpius. His calculations had showed that the metal would do little more than compress, except where it melted from the terrific heat of the bomb. That would be only in and around the shaft. He was sure the men at Terra base had figured it out before they decided that A-bombs would be necessary to throw the asteroid into a new orbit. He wasn't worried. Cracks in the asteroid would be dangerous, but he hadn't seen any.

"This rock will take more nuclear blasts than we have," he assured Koa. He turned his communicator back on and went to the edge of the hole for a look at Kemp's progress. He was far down, now. Pederson was holding one end of a measuring tape. The other end was fastened to Kemp's shoulder strap.

The Swedish corporal showed Rip that he had only about eight feet of tape left. Kemp was almost down. Rip called, "Kemp. When you reach bottom, cut toward the center. Leave an inverted cone."

"Got it, sir. Be up in two more cuts."

Dominico had connected cable to the bomb terminals and was attaching a timer to the other end. Without the wooden case, the bomb was like a fat, oversized can. It had been shipped without a combat casing.

"Koa, make a final check. You can untie the landing boat, except for one line. We'll be taking off in a few minutes."

"Right, sir." Koa glided toward the landing boat, which was out of sight over the horizon.

It was nearly time. Rip had a moment's misgiving. Had his figures or his sightings been off? His red hair prickled at the thought. But the ship's computer had done the work, and it was not capable of making a mistake.

Kemp tossed up the last section of thorium and then came out of the hole himself, carrying his torch.

Rip inspected the hole, saw with satisfaction it was in almost perfect alignment, and ordered the bomb placed. He bent over the edge of the hole and watched Trudeau pay out wire while Dominico pushed the bomb to the bottom. The Italian made a last minute check, then called to Rip. "Ready, sir."

He dropped into the hole and inspected the connections himself, then personally pulled the safety lever. The bomb was armed. When the timer acted, it would go off.

Back at ground level, he turned up his communicator. "Koa, is everything ready at the boat?"

"Ready, sir."

The Planeteers had already carried away the torch and its fuel and oxygen supplies. The area was clear of pieces of thorium.

Rip announced, "We're setting the explosion for ten minutes." He leaned over the timer, which rested near the lip of the hole, took the dial control in his glove and turned it to position ten. He held it long enough to glance at his chronometer and say, "Starting now!" Then he let it go.

Wasting no time, but not hurrying, he and Dominico returned to the landing boat. The Planeteers were already aboard, except for Koa, who stood by to cast off the remaining tie line. Rip stepped inside and counted the men. All present. He ordered, "Cast off." As Koa did so and stepped aboard, he added, "Pilot, take off. Straight up."

The landing boat rose from the asteroid. Rip counted the men again, just to be sure. The boat seemed a little crowded, but that was because the rear compartment took up quite a bit of room.

Rip watched his chronometer. They had plenty of time. When the boat reached a point about ten miles above the asteroid, he ordered, "Stern tube." The boat moved at an angle. He let it go until a sight at the stars showed they were about in the right position, 90 degrees from the line of blast and where they would be behind the asteroid as it moved toward the new course.

He looked at his chronometer again. "Two minutes. Line up at the side if you want to watch, but darken your helmets to full protection. This thing will light up like nothing you've ever seen before."

It was a good thing space cruisers depended on their radar and not on sight, he thought. Usually spacemen opened up visual ports only when landing or taking a star sight for an astro-plot. The clear plastic of the domes had to be shielded from chance meteors. Besides, radar screens were more dependable than eyes, even though they could pick up only solid objects. If the Consops cruiser happened to be searching visually, it would see the blast. But the chance had to be taken. It wasn't really much of a chance.

"One minute," he said. He faced the asteroid, then darkened his helmet, counting to himself.

The minute ticked off slowly, though his count was a little fast. When he reached five, brilliant, incandescent light lit up the interior of the boat. Rip saw it even though his helmet was dark. The light faded slowly, and he put his helmet back on full transparent.

A mighty column of fire now reached out from the asteroid into space. Rip held his breath until he saw that the little planet was sheering off its course under the great blast. Then he sighed with relief. All was well so far.

Someone muttered, "By Gemini! I'm glad we're out here instead of down there!"

The column of fire lengthened, thinned out, grew fainter until there was only a glow behind the asteroid. Rip took his astrogation instruments and made a number of sights. They looked good. The first blast had worked about as predicted, although he wouldn't be able to tell how much correction was needed until he had taken star sights over a period of five or six days.

"Let's go home," he ordered.

Back on the asteroid, a pit that glowed with radioactivity marked the site of the first blast. Rip ordered it covered as much as possible with the thorium that had been taken from the hole. While the men worked, he plotted the lines for the second blast, found the spot, and put Kemp back to work on a new hole.

Two hours later the second blast threw fire into space. In another three hours, with the asteroid now speeding on its new course, Rip set off the explosion that blasted straight back and gave extra speed.

Three radioactive craters marked the asteroid. Rip checked the radiation level and didn't like it a bit. He decided to set up the landing boat and their supplies as far away from the craters as possible, which was on the sun side. They could move to the dark side as they approached the orbit of earth. By then the radioactivity from the blasts would have died down considerably.

He was selecting the location for a base when Dowst suddenly called. "Lieutenant! Lieutenant Foster!"

There was urgency in the Planeteer's voice. "What is it, Dowst?"

"Sir, take a look, about two degrees south of Rigel!"

Rip found the constellation Orion and looked at bright Rigel. For a moment he saw nothing; then, south of the star, he saw a thin, orange line.

Nuclear drive cruisers didn't have exhausts of that color, and there was only one rocket-drive ship around, so far as they knew.

Rip said softly, "Let's get our house in order, gang. Looks like we're going to get a visit from our friends the Connies!"



CHAPTER EIGHT - DUCK - OR DIE!

Sergeant-major Koa's great frame loomed in front of Rip. "Think they've spotted us, sir?"

Rip hated to say it. "Probably. Koa, can you estimate from the exhaust how far away they are?"

"Not very well, Lieutenant. From the position of the streak, I'd say they're decelerating."

The Planeteers looked at Rip. He was in command, and they expected him to do something about the situation. Rip didn't know what to do. The rocket launcher, their only weapon, wasn't designed for fighting spaceships. It was useful against snapper-boats and people, but firing at a cruiser would be like sending mosquitoes to fight elephants.

He sized up their position. For one thing, they were right out in the open, exposed to anything the Connie cruiser might throw at them. If they could get under cover, there might be a chance. It would at least take the Connies a while to find them.

For a moment he thought of hurrying into the landing boat and sending out a call for help to the Scorpius, but he thought better of it. They weren't certain that Connie had spotted them. He would wait until there was no doubt. Meanwhile, they had to find cover.

His searching eyes fell on the cutting torch. If they could use that to cut themselves right into the asteroid ... suddenly he knew how it could be done. On the sun side he remembered a series of high-piled, giant crystals of thorium. They could cut into the side of one of those. And with Kemp's skill, they might be able to do it in time.

He called, "Kemp! Koa, bring the torch and fuel and follow me."

In his haste he took a misstep and flew headlong a few feet above the metal surface. Koa, gliding along behind him, turned him upright again. He saw that the giant Hawaiian was grinning. Rip grinned back. It was the second time he had lost his footing.

They reached the peaks of thorium and Rip looked them over. The tallest was perhaps 40 feet high. It was roughly pyramidal, with a base about 60 feet thick. It would do.

"Kemp." The private hurried to his side. "Take the torch and make us a cave. Make it big enough for all hands and the equipment."

Kemp was a good Planeteer. He didn't stop to ask questions. He said, "I'll make a small entrance and open the cave out inside." He picked up the torch and got busy.

Rip smiled. The Planeteer was right. He should have thought of it himself, but it was good to see increasing proof that his men were smart as well as tough and disciplined.

"Bring up all supplies," he told Koa. "Move the boat over here, too. We won't be able to bury that, but we want it close by." He had an idea for the landing boat. It could maneuver infinitely faster than the big cruiser. They could put the supplies in the cave, then take to the boat, depending on its ability to turn quickly and on Dowst's skill at piloting to play hide and seek. Dowst certainly could keep the asteroid between them and the cruiser.

The plan would fail when the cruiser sent a landing party. They would certainly come in snapper-boats, and the deadly little fighting craft could blast rings around the landing boat. The snapper-boats had gotten their name because fast acceleration and quick changes of position could snap a man right out of his seat, if he forgot to buckle his harness tightly.

The solution would be to keep the landing boat close to the asteroid. At the first sign of a landing party, they would blast in and take to the cave, using the rocket launcher as a defense.

The supplies began to arrive. The Planeteers towed them two crates at a time in a steady line of hurrying men.

Kemp's torch sent an incandescent knife three feet into the metal at each cut. He was rapidly slicing out a cave. He cut the metal out in great triangular bars, angling the torch from first one side, then the other.

Koa came and stood beside Rip. "I haven't seen the Connie's exhaust for a while, sir. Looks like they've stopped decelerating. We can't see them at all."

"Meaning what?" Rip asked. He thought he knew, but he wanted Koa's opinion.

"They're in free fall now, sir. That could mean they're just hunting in the area. Or it could mean, that they've stopped somewhere close by. They could be looking us over, for all we know."

Rip surveyed the stars. "If that's so, they're not too close, Koa. Otherwise they'd block out a patch of stars."

"Well, sir—" Koa hesitated. "I mean, if you were looking over this asteroid and you weren't sure whether the enemy had it or not, how close would you get?"

"Probably about one AU," Rip said jokingly. That was one astronomical unit, equal to about 93 million miles, the distance from earth to the sun.

"That would be a good, safe distance, sir," Koa agreed with a grin.

"But let's suppose the Connie isn't as timid as I am," Rip went on. "He might be only a few miles out. The question is, would he wait to get closer before launching his snapper-boats?"

The big Hawaiian answered frankly, "I've never been in a spacegrab like this before. I don't know what the answer is."



"That Connie Cruiser's Not Too Close, Koa."

"We'll soon know," Rip replied grimly. A thought had just struck him. The Scorpius had trouble finding the asteroid because it was just one of many sailing along through the belt. But now the asteroid was the only one traveling across the belt. It would make an outstanding blip on any radar 'scope. It wasn't possible that the Connie cruiser had missed the blip and its significance.

"The Connie may be looking us over," Rip added, "but I can tell you one thing for sure. He knows we've taken the asteroid." Only human hands could swerve a heavenly body from its orbit.

Koa looked wistfully at the atomic bomb which remained. "If we had a way to throw that thing at them...."

"But we haven't. And the thing wouldn't explode anyway. We don't have the outside casing with an exploder mechanism, so it has to be turned on electrically." Rip could see no way to use the atomic bomb against the Connies. It was too big for use against a landing party. Besides, it would put the Planeteers in danger.

"Ever have trouble with the Connies before?" he asked Koa.

"More'n once, sir. Sometimes it seems like I'll never get a job where I don't have to fight Connies."

Rip was trained in science and Planeteer techniques and he didn't pretend to know the ins and outs of interplanetary politics. Just the same, he couldn't help wondering about the strange relationship between the Consolidation of People's Governments and the Federation of Free Nations.

Connies and Feds, mostly Planeteers but sometimes spacemen, were constantly skirmishing. They fought over property, over control of ports on distant planets and moons, and over space salvage. Often there was bloodshed. Sometimes there were pitched battles between groups of platoon size.

But at that point, the struggle ended. The law of the Federation said that no spaceship could fire on a Connie spaceship, or on Connie land bases, except with special permission of the Space Council. The theory was that small struggles between men, or even between small fighting craft like the snapper-boats, was not war. But firing on a spaceship was war, and the first such act could mean starting war throughout the Solar System.

It made a sort of sense to Rip when he thought about it. Little fights here and there were better than a full war among the planets.

Koa suddenly gripped his arm. "Sir! Look up!"

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."

The Englishman's voice sounded bubbly. "I can make it."

"Good for you!" Rip exclaimed. "Call for help if you need it."

Koa was already out of the craft and leading the way. Rip went out through a window and saw the cause of the trouble. Dowst had been a hair too close to the asteroid. A particularly high crystal of thorium had snagged the craft.

Rip looked for the Connie and saw it starting another turn. They had only a moment or two before the next run. "Show an exhaust," he called. The Connie must have blasted the opposite side of the asteroid while they were hung up.

The cave was a quarter of the asteroid away. Rip stayed in the rear, watching for stragglers. But even Bradshaw was moving rapidly. Koa reached the cave well ahead of the rest, reached for a rack of rockets, and slapped it into the launcher.

Rip urged the men on. The Connie was squared off for another run.

They catapulted to safety as the cruiser flamed past, the exhaust splashing over the metal and sending sparks into the cave.

Rip looked out. That, if he had guessed right, was the last run. He watched the Connie's stern jet cut off, saw the nose exhaust as the cruiser decelerated to a fast stop.

"Check your weapons," he ordered.

He pulled his pistol from the knee pocket and checked it carefully. There was a clip in the magazine. Other clips were in his pocket. The clips were loaded with high velocity shells that exploded on contact. One slug could stop a Venusian krel, a mammoth beast that had been described as a cross between a sea lion and a cactus plant.

His knife was in place in the other knee pocket.

The Connie cruiser decelerated, went into reverse, and came to a full stop about a mile from the asteroid. The Planeteers saw fire in two places along the hull, marking the exhausts of two small craft.

"Snapper-boats," Koa said tonelessly. "Five men in each, if those are the regular Connie kind."

Rip made a quick decision. With only one launcher they couldn't guard the whole asteroid. "We'll stay under cover, except for Santos and Pederson. You two sneak out. Take advantage of every bit of cover you can find. I don't want you spotted. When a boat lands, report its position. The Connies operate on different communicator frequencies, so they won't overhear. Well let them think they've burned the asteroid clean."

He paused. "They'll search for a while. Then, when they're pretty well satisfied that all is quiet, we'll show up." Rip grinned at his Planeteers. "We can have a real, old-fashioned surprise party."

Koa slid the safety catch from his pistol. "With fireworks," he added.



CHAPTER NINE - REPEL INVADERS!

The snapper-boats came out of the darkness of space, leaving a glowing trail of fire. They were not graceful. Rip could see no beauty in their lines, but to his professional eye there was plenty of deadly efficiency.

The Connie fighting craft looked like three globes strung evenly on a steel tube. The middle globe was larger than the end ones, and it was transparent. From it projected the barrels of two kinds of weapons—explosive and ultrasonic. Five men usually rode in the middle ball. One piloted. The other four were gunners.

The end globes were pierced by five large holes. They were blast holes for the rocket exhaust. Unlike the landing boats, each tube did not have its own fuel supply. One fuel tank served each globe. The pilot could direct the exhaust through any tube or combination of tubes he wished, by operating valves that either sealed or opened the vents.

The system gave high maneuverability to the boats. By playing on the controls with the skill of an organist, the pilot could shift direction with dazzling speed.

Snapper-boats used by the Federation operated on the same principle, but they were of American design, and they showed the American's love of clean lines. Federation fighter craft were slim and streamlined, even though the streamlining was of no use whatever in space. With blast holes at each end, they looked like double-ended needles. The pilot's canopy in the center controlled guns that fired through the front only. Rear guns were handled by a gunner, who sat with back to the pilot.

Where Connie snapper-boats carried five men, the Federation boats carried two. The Connies could fire in any direction. The Federation pilots aimed by pointing the snapper-boat itself, as fighter pilots of conventional aircraft had once aimed their guns.

Rip watched the boats approach. He was ready to duck inside if they decided to look the asteroid over before landing. He hoped they wouldn't catch sight of his two scouts. He also hoped his nervousness would vanish when the fight started. He knew what to do, at least in theory. He had gone through combat problems on the moon during training. But this was different. This was real. The lives of his men depended on his being right, and he was afraid of making a wrong decision.

Sergeant-major Koa, an experienced Planeteer with a lot of understanding, came and stood beside him. He said, "Guess I'll never get over being jittery while waiting for the fight to start. I'm sweating so hard my dehumidifier is humming like a Callistan honey lizard. But it doesn't last long once the shooting begins. I get so busy I forget to be jittery."

Before Rip could reply, the snapper-boats flashed over the cave, circled the asteroid once, and landed on the dark side close by the bomb craters.

The first scout reported. "Santos, sir. I'm fifty yards beyond the stakes where we had the first base. The snapper-boats landed between the first two craters. Men coming out of one boat. I count six. Now they're coming out of the other boat, but I can't see very well."

The other scout picked up the report, his Swedish accent thick with excitement. "I can see them, sor! By Cosmos! There be seven in this boat on my side. I am behind a rock forty yards to sunward of the second crater."

Rip turned up the volume of his communicator. "How are they armed? Santos, report."

"One is carrying a pneumatic chattergun. The rest have nothing in their hands."

"Pederson, report."

"No weapons I can see, sor."

Koa looked at Rip. "They must think the asteroid is clean. Otherwise they'd have more than a chattergun in sight. You can bet they have knives and pistols, too."

Rip had been playing with an idea. He tried it on his men. "These Connies would be useful to us alive, if we could capture them."

It was Dowst who caught his meaning first. "You mean as hostages, sir?"

"That's it. If we could capture them, the Connie cruiser would be helpless. We could use the snapper-boat radios to warn the ship that any false move would mean harm to their men."

Koa shook his head doubtfully. "I'm not sure the Connies worry about their men, but it's worth the try. We can capture some of them if they split up to search the asteroid. But we won't be able to sneak up on them all."

"We have an advantage," Rip reminded them. "We've been on the asteroid longer. We know our way around, and we're used to space-walking. They've just come out of deceleration and they won't have their space-legs yet."

Santos reported. "They're breaking up into groups of two. Three are guarding the snapper-boats. One is the man with the chattergun."

"Are their belt lights on?"

"Yes."

"Then keep out of the beams. Don't let them walk into you. Keep low, and keep moving. Stay over on the dark side."

"We'd better get to the dark side ourselves," Koa warned.

He was right, Rip knew. The Connies didn't have far to search before reaching the sun side. "Koa, you take Trudeau and Kemp. I'll take Dowst and Dominico. Nunez and Bradshaw stay here to guard the cave. If they arrive in twos, let them get into the cave before you jump them. Bradshaw, how do you feel?"

"I'm all right, Lieutenant."

Rip admired the Planeteer's nerve. He knew Bradshaw was in pain, because bleeding into high vacuum was always painful. The crack in the English-man's helmet had let most of the air out, and his own blood pressure had done the rest. He would carry the marks for days. A few more moments and all air and all heat would have been gone, with fatal results. Fortunately, bubbles didn't shatter easily when cracked. To destroy them took a good blow that knocked out a piece.

"All right. Let's travel. Koa, go right. I'll go the other way and we'll work around the asteroid until we meet."

Rip led the way, gliding as rapidly as he could toward the edge of darkness. He called, "Santos. Any coming in the direction of the cave?"

"Two pair. About fifty yards apart. They will be out of my sight in a few seconds."

Which meant they would be within sight of Rip and the others. He knew Koa had heard the message, too. Both groups put on more speed, and reached the safety of darkness. "Get down," Rip ordered. They could still be seen, if silhouetted against the edges of sunlight.

Starlight gave a little light, but it was too faint to see much. Rip's plan was that the Connies would supply the light needed for an attack.

In a few seconds, as Santos had predicted, belt light beams cut sharp paths through the darkness. Rip sized up the possibilities. There were two teams of two men each, and they were getting farther apart with each step. One team was coming almost directly toward them. The other team was slanting away from them and would soon be out of sight behind the thorium crystals in which the cave was located. Fortunately, the Connies were going away from the cave.

A Connie from the near-by team swung his beam back and forth, and it cut space over their heads. Rip saw a few low pyramids of thorium a few rods away. He directed swiftly, "Dowst, take my boots. Dominico, take Dowst's boots."

He lay face down on the metal ground until he felt hands grip his boots, then he asked, "All set?" Two voices answered. "Ready."

Rip put his gloves on the ground and pulled himself forward and slightly upward. Since there was very little gravity, the action both lifted and pulled him. He slid parallel to the surface and a foot above it, heading for the crystals. Once or twice he reached down and gave another push. It was like swimming, except that only the tips of his gloves touched the ground, and there was no resistance of any kind. He felt Dowst's grip on his boots, but he couldn't feel the weight of his men.

He reached the first crystal and directed, "Get behind these rocks and stay down. Feel your way. Use me for a guide. I'll hold on until you're under cover." He gripped a crystal. "Come on."

Dominico pulled himself along Dowst's prone form, and then along Rip's. When Dominico had reached the shelter of the crystals, Dowst crawled along with Rip's body for his guide, passed over him, and reached cover. Rip followed.

The belt lights of the two Connies were almost abreast of them. Far to their left, Rip saw another pair of lights. That was a pair he hadn't seen before.

"We'll wait until they pass," he told his men. "Then we'll get up and rush them from behind. They can't hear us coming. Dowst, you take the near one. I'll take the far one. Dominico, you help as needed, but concentrate on cutting off their equipment. The first thing we must do is cut their communicators. Otherwise they'll warn the rest. Then turn off their air supplies and collapse their suits."

One thing was in their favor. The space suits worn by the Connies were almost the same as theirs. The controls were of the same kind. The only way to know a Connie was by his bubble, which was a little more tubular than the round bubbles of the Federation.

Rip suddenly realized that he wasn't nervous anymore. He grinned, licking his lips. After all, this was what he had been trained for.

The Connies came abreast and passed. "Let's go," Rip said, and as he rose he heard Koa's voice.

The sergeant-major said, "Kemp, kneel on their right side. Trudeau and I will hit them from the left and tumble them over you. Get their communicators first."

Koa had methods of his own, apparently, and they sounded good.

Rip started slowly. He wanted to get directly behind the Connies. He stayed down low until he was sure they couldn't see him, unless they turned.

Dowst and Dominico were right with him. "Come on," he said, and started gliding after the helmeted figures. He kept his eyes on the one he had selected, and he called on all the myriad stars of space to give him luck. If the men turned, his plan for quick victory would fail.

He sensed his Planeteers beside him as the figures loomed ahead. He gave a final spring that sent him through space with knees bent and outthrust, his hands reaching.

His knees connected solidly with the Connie's thighs and his hands groped around the bulky space suit. He felt a rheostat control and twisted savagely, then groped for the distinctive star-shaped button of the air supply.



Rip Used a Flying Tackle on the Connie

The Connie wrenched violently and threw them both upward. Rip felt the star shape and twisted. If he could only deflate the Connie's suit! But the man was writhing from his grip, clawing for a weapon.

Rip stopped reaching for the deflation valve. He grabbed for his knife, jerked it free, and thrust it against the middle of the Connie's back. Then he clanged his bubble against the man's helmet for direct communication and shouted, "Grab some space, or I'll let vack into you!"

The Connie understood English. Most earthlings did. But even better was his understanding of the pressure on his back. He stopped struggling and his arms shot starward.

Rip breathed freely for the first time since he had leaped, and exultation grew in him. He had his first man! His first hand-to-hand fight had ended in victory so easy that he could hardly believe it.

He took time to look around him and saw that he was a good five feet above the asteroid. Below him, a Connie belt light sent its shaft parallel with the ground, and he knew the second man was down.

The question was, had either of them shouted before their communicators were cut off?

"Dowst," he called urgently. "All okay?"

"No," Dowst said grimly. "We got the Connie, but he got Dominico. Cut his leg with a space knife. I'm putting a patch on it. You okay?"

"Yes. When you can, pull me down."

"Right."

Dominico spoke up. "Don't worry about me, sir. Nothing bad. I don't lose much air."

"Fine, Dominico. Glad it wasn't worse."

But Rip knew it wasn't good, either. A cut with a space knife let air out of the suit and created at least a partial vacuum. If it also cut flesh, the vacuum let the blood pressure force out blood and tissue to turn a minor wound into an ugly one.

They would have to bring this spaceflap with the Connies to a quick end, Rip thought. He had to get his men into air, somehow, to take a look at their wounds. Bradshaw needed attention, and now so did Dominico.

Dowst reached up, took Rip's ankle, and pulled him down. Rip held onto his captive. Then the private bound the Connie's hands, jerked his communicator control completely off, and turned his air back on. Since Rip had been unable to collapse the suit, the Connie was comfortable enough. The reason for collapsing the suit was to deprive the enemy of air instantly, so that he could be tied up while helpless from lack of oxygen. There was enough air in the suit to last for a few minutes.

The Connie on the ground was neatly trussed. Rip's prisoner joined him. Dowst switched off his belt light. "Now what, sir?"

Dominico was standing patiently near by. He said nothing. Rip knew that no more could be done for the Italian at present. "Go back to the cave, Dominico," he ordered.

"I can stay with you, sir."

"No, Dominico. Thanks for the offer, but we'll get along. Go back to the cave."

"Yessir."

Rip was a little worried. He had heard nothing from Koa since that first exchange. He told Dowst as much. Koa himself heard and answered.

"Lieutenant, we're all right. Got two Connies, and I don't think they had a chance to yell. But I'm sorry about one, sir. Kemp had to swing at him and busted his bubble."

"Fatal?"

"No, we got a patch on in time. But worse than Bradshaw."

"Tough." Rip couldn't feel too sympathetic. After all, it was the Connie cruiser's fault Bradshaw had felt high vack. "All right. We have four. That leaves nine."

Santos came on the circuit. "Sir, this is Santos. Only three men are at the snapper-boats. If you can get here without being seen, maybe we could knock them off. The rest wouldn't be much good if we had their boats."

"You're right, Santos," Rip replied instantly. Why hadn't he seen that for himself? He knew how he and Dowst could approach the craters without being spotted, now that they had removed two teams of Connies. "We're on our way. Koa, make it if you can."

"Yes, sir."

Dominico was already making his way back to the cave. Rip and Dowst started for the horizon at a good walk, not afraid now to use their lights, at least for a few yards. If any of the remaining Connie search teams saw the lights they would think it was two of their own men.

Rip remembered the lay of the ground, and Santos's description of the snapper-boats' position. He circled almost to the horizon, then told Dowst to cut his light. He cut his own. In a moment they topped the horizon, and standing with only helmets visible from the snapper-boats, looked the situation over.

The three Connies were standing between him and the boats. To the left of the boats was the second crater. Rip studied the ground as best he could in the Connie belt lights and decided on a plan of action. Calling to Dowst, he circled again. Presently they were approaching the crater. The Connies were about 25 yards from the crater's opposite rim.

Rip said, "I hate to do this, Dowst, but I can't see any way out. We have to go into the crater."

Dowst merely said, "Yes, sir."

The extra radiation might put both of them well over the safety limits long before earth was reached, and they both knew it. Rip didn't hesitate. He reached the crater's edge and walked right down into it.

They were out of sight of the Connies now. Rip walked up the other side of the crater until his bubble was just below ground level. The chunks of thorium he had ordered thrown in to block some of the radiation made walking a little difficult.

"Santos," he said, "we're in the second crater."

"Sir, I'm beyond the first, between two crystals. Pederson is near you somewhere."

"Good. When I give the word, turn up your helmet light until they can see a pretty good glow. Keep watching them." The bubbles were equipped with lights, but they were seldom used. He outlined his plan swiftly. Both Santos and Dowst acknowledged.

Koa reported in. "We're after two more Connies near the wreck of the landing boat, sir."

"Be careful. Pederson, go help Koa. Nunez, how are things at the cave?"

"Nunez reporting, sir. Two Connies in sight, but they haven't seen us yet."

"Let me know when they spot the cave."

"Yes, sir."

"Santos, go ahead."

For long moments there was silence. Rip felt for a solid foothold, found one, and flexed his knees. He kept his back straight and his eyes on the crater rim. His hands were occupied with two air bottles taken from his belt, and his thumbs were on their valve releases. He waited patiently for word from Santos that his helmet glow had been seen.

Santos yelled, "Now!"

Rip's legs straightened with a mighty thrust. He flashed into space headfirst, at an angle that took him over the crater's rim and 50 feet above the ground. He caught a glimpse of Santos's helmet, glowing like a pink balloon, and of the three Connies facing it, one with gun upraised.

Rip's arms flashed above his head. His thumbs compressed. Air spurted from the two bottles, driving him downward, feet first, directly at the heads of the Connies!



CHAPTER TEN - GET THE SCOPRION!

From the corner of his eye Rip saw Dowst's heavy space boots and knew the private was right with him. As they drove down, one of the Connies stepped a little distance away from the others, probably to get a better look at Santos. The Connie sensed something and turned, just as Rip and Dowst flashed downward on his two mates.

Rip's boots caught one Connie where his bubble joined his suit, and the impact drove the man downward to the unyielding surface of the asteroid with a soundless smash. Rip threw up his arms to cushion his helmet as he struck the ground beyond his enemy. He threw the air bottles away. He fought to keep his feet under him and almost succeeded, but his knees hit the ground and pistol and knife bit into them painfully.

Two figures came into his view, locked tightly together, arms flailing. It was Dowst and the second Connie. He got to his feet and was moving to the Planeteer's aid when Santos's voice shrilled in his helmet. "Sir! Look left!"

Rip whirled. The Connie who had stepped aside was advancing, pistol in hand. His light caught Rip full in the face.

The young officer thought quickly. The Connie hadn't fired. Why? Suddenly he had it. The man hadn't fired for fear of hitting his friend, who was battling with Dowst. Rip was in front of them. Quickly he dropped to one knee, reaching for his own pistol. The Connie wouldn't dare fire now. The high velocity slug would go right through him, to explode in one of the struggling figures behind—and the wrong one might get it.

The Connie saw Rip's action and tossed his pistol aside. He, too, knew he couldn't fire. He reached into a knee pouch and drew out his space knife. He leaped for the Planeteer.

Rip pulled frantically at his pistol. It was stuck fast, probably caught in the fabric by his knee landing. The space knife wouldn't be caught. It was smooth, with no projections to catch. He shifted knees and jerked it out.

The Connie's flying body hit him, and a powerful arm circled his waist. Rip thrust upward with his knees, one hand reaching for the Connie's suit valve. But the Connie had one arm free, too. He drove his glove up under Rip's heart. Rip let go of the valve and used his elbow to lever away just as the Connie pressed his knife's release valve. The blade slammed outward, drove into the inside of Rip's right arm just above the elbow.

Pain lanced through him, and he felt the blood rush to the wound as air poured through the gap in his suit. He gritted his teeth and smashed at the Connie with his own knife. It rammed home and he squeezed the release. The blade connected solidly. He was suddenly free.

He pressed the wounded arm to his side, stopping the outpouring of air. The cut hurt like all the devils of space. With his other hand he increased the air in his suit, then looked swiftly around. The Connie was on his knees, both gloves pressed tightly to his side.

Dowst was just finishing a knot in the safety line that bound a second enemy's hands. The Connie Rip had rocketed down on was still lying where he had fallen. And Corporal Santos, the enemy's pneumatic chattergun at the ready, was standing guard.

Rip turned up the volume in his communicator. He tried to sound calm, but the shakiness of triumph and excitement was in his voice. "All Planeteers. We have the Connie snapper-boats. Koa, bring your men here."

He felt someone working on his arm and turned to see Corporal Pederson, his face one vast grin in the glare from Dowst's belt light. "Koa didn't need me," he said.

Rip grinned back. "Nunez," he called. "How are things at the cave?"

"Sir, this is Nunez. Two Connies were prowling around, but they didn't see the entrance. Then, a minute ago, they turned and hurried away."

Rip considered. "Koa. How many Connies have you?"

"Four, sir."

With the five he and Dowst had taken, that meant four still at large, and from Nunez's report, some Connie yelling had been going on. The four certainly knew by this time there were Federal men on the asteroid. Unless something were done quickly the four Connies would be shooting at them from the darkness. He ordered, "All Planeteers. Kill your belt lights."

The lights on the Connies they had just taken still glowed. Dowst was putting a patch on the Connie Rip had stabbed. He waited until the private had finished, then said, "Turn out the Connie lights, too."

If he could get in touch with the Connies, he could tell them they were finished. But using the snapper-boat radios was out, because the enemy cruiser would hear. The cruiser couldn't hear the helmet communicators, though, because they carried only a short distance. The cruiser was close enough so that a helmet communicator turned on full volume might barely be heard, although it was unlikely.

He couldn't stick his head in a Connie helmet, but he could talk to a Connie by direct communication and have him give instructions.

There was complete darkness with all belt lights out, but he groped his way to the Connie Dowst had been patching, felt for his helmet, and put his own against it. He yelled, "Do you hear me?"

"Yes." Then, "Why did you patch me?"

It was a perfect opening. "Because we don't want to kill you. Listen. We have all but four of you. Understand?"

"Yes. What will you do with us?"

"Treat you as prisoners. If you behave. Get on your communicator and tell those four men to surrender. Tell them to come to the boats, with lights on. Tell them we'll give them five minutes. If they don't come, we'll hunt them with rockets."

"They will come," the Connie said. "They don't want to die. I will do it."

Rip kept his helmet against the Connie's, but the man spoke in another language, which Rip identified as the main Consops tongue. When he had finished, Rip told his Planeteers to have weapons ready and to keep lights off. Time enough for light when the Connies were all disarmed.

It didn't take five minutes. The Connie teams came quickly and willingly, and they seemed almost glad to give up their pistols and knives. This was not unusual. Rip had seen many Planeteer reports that spoke of the same thing. Many Connies, it seemed, were glad to get away from the iron Consops rule even if it meant becoming Federation prisoners.

Inside one of the snapper-boats, a light glowed. Rip put his helmet against that of the man who had given the surrender order and demanded, "What's that light?"

"The cruiser wants us."

Rip considered demanding that the Connie answer, then thought better of it. He would do it himself. After all, they had hostages. The cruiser wouldn't take any further action. He climbed into the snapper-boat and hunted for the plug-in terminal. It fitted his own belt jack. He plugged in and said, "Go ahead."

There was an instant of silence, then an accented voice demanded, "Why are you speaking English?"

Rip replied formally, "This is Lieutenant Foster, Federation Special Order Squadrons, in charge on the asteroid. Your landing party is in our hands, as prisoners, two wounded, none dead. If you agree to withdraw, we will send the wounded men back to you in one boat. The rest will remain here as hostages for your good behavior."

"Stand by," the voice said. There was silence for several moments, then a new voice said, "This is the cruiser commander. We make a counter-offer. If you release our men and surrender to them, we will spare the lives of you and your men."

Rip listened incredulously. The commanding officer didn't understand. He, Rip, held the whip hand, because the lives of the Connie prisoners were in his hands. He repeated what he had said before.

"And I repeat," the commander retorted. "Surrender or die. Choose now."

"I refuse," Rip stated flatly. "Try anything and your men will suffer, not us."

"You are mistaken," the harsh voice said. "We will sweep the asteroid clean with our exhaust, but this time we will be more thorough. When we have finished, we will hammer you with guided missiles. Then we will send snapper-boats with rockets to hunt down any who remain. We intend to have that thorium. You had better surrender."

Rip couldn't believe it. The cruiser commander had no hesitation in sacrificing his own men! But it was not a bluff. He knew instinctively that the Connie commander meant it. Instantly he unplugged the radio connection from his belt and spoke urgently. "Koa, get everyone under cover in the cave. Hurry! Collect all the Connies and take them with you."

Then he plugged in again. "Commander, I must have time to think this over."

"You have one minute."

He watched his chronometer, planning the next move. When the minute ended, he asked, "Commander, how do we know you will spare our lives if we surrender?" Through the transparent shell of the snapper-boat he saw lights moving toward the horizon and knew Koa was following orders.

"You don't know," the cruiser answered. "You must take our word for it. But if you surrender, we have no reason to wish you harm."

Rip remained silent. The seconds ticked past until the commander snapped, "Quickly! You have no more time."

"Sir," Rip said plaintively, "two of my men do not wish to surrender."

"Shoot them, fool! Are you in command or not?"

Rip grinned. He made his voice whine. "But sir, it is against the law of the Federation to shoot men without a trial."

The commander lapsed into his own language, caught himself, then barked, "You are no longer under Federation law. You are under the Consolidation of People's Governments. Do you surrender or not? Answer at once, or we take action anyway. Quick!"

Rip knew he could stall no longer. He said coolly, "If you had brains in your head instead of high vacuum, you'd know that Planeteers never surrender. Blast away, you filthy space pirate!"

He jerked the plug loose, hesitated for a second over whether or not to take the snapper-boat, and decided against it. He wasn't familiar with Connie controls and there wasn't time to experiment. He headed for the cave as fast as he could glide.

The Connie cruiser lost no time. Its stern tubes flamed, then its steering tubes. It was going to drive directly at the asteroid without making a long run! Rip estimated quickly and realized that the Connie would get to the asteroid at the same time that he reached the cave—if he made it.

He speeded up as fast as he dared. With little gravity on the asteroid, he couldn't fall, but a false step could lift him into space and make him lose time while he got out an air bottle to propel him down again. The thought gave him an idea. Without slowing he took two bottles from his belt, turned them so the openings were to his rear, and squeezed the release valves.

The Connie was gaining speed, blasting straight toward him. Rip sped forward, and crossed to the sun side, intent on the cave entrance, but no longer sure he would make it. The Connie's nose tube shot a cylinder of flame forward, reaching for the asteroid. He saw the fire lick downward and sweep toward him with appalling speed as he put everything he had in a frantic dive for the cave entrance. The flaming rocket exhaust seemed to snatch at him as a dozen hands pulled him to safety, then beat the sparks from his suit.

He was safe. He leaned against Koa, his heart thumping wildly. For a moment or two he couldn't speak, then he managed, "Thanks."

Koa spoke for the Planeteers. "We're the ones to say thanks, sir. If you hadn't thought of stalling the cruiser, and if you hadn't stayed behind to give us time, we'd have some casualties, and so would the Connies we captured."

"There wasn't anything else I could do," Rip replied. "Come on, Koa. Let's see what the cruiser is doing."

They stepped outside. The metal was already cold again. Things didn't stay hot in the vacuum of space.

They didn't see the Connie until the fire of its exhaust suddenly blasted above the horizon, then they ducked for cover. The cruiser had taken a swing at the other side of the asteroid. They peered out again and saw it making a turn to come back.

"He won't get us," Rip said confidently. "Our tough time will come when he sends a fleet of snapper-boats."

"We'll get a few," Koa replied grimly. "Wait! What's he doing?"

The cruiser had started for the asteroid. Suddenly jets flamed from every quarter of the ship. He was using all steering jets at once! Rip watched, bewildered, as the great ship spun slowly, advanced, then settled to a stop just at the horizon.

"He can't be launching boats already," he said worriedly. "What's he up to?"

They ran forward a short distance until they could see below the cave's horizon level. The cruiser released exhausts from both sides of the ship, the outer ones the slightest bit stronger. Rip exclaimed, "Great Cosmos, he's cuddling right up to the asteroid! Why?"

"Hiding," Koa said. "By Gemini! Come on, sir!"

Rip saw his meaning instantly and they raced to the side of the asteroid, away from the ship. As they crossed into the dark half, Rip looked back. He couldn't see the cruiser from here. But he looked out into space, across the horizon, and knew that Koa's guess had been right. The distinctive glow of a nuclear drive cruiser was clear among the stars.

The Scorpius had returned!

"The Connie saw it," Rip said worriedly, "but didn't blast away. That means he's intending to ambush the Scorpius. Koa, if he does, that means war."

The big Hawaiian shook his head. "Sir, the Connie has guided missiles with atomic warheads just like our ship does. If he can launch one from ambush and hit our ship, that's the end of it. The Scorpius will be nothing but space junk. Commander O'Brine will never have time to get off a message, because he'll be dead before he knows there is danger."

The logic of it sent chill fear down Rip's spine. The Connie could get the Scorpius with one nuclear blast and then clean up the asteroid at leisure. The Federation would suspect, but it would be unable to prove anything, because there would be no witnesses. If the Connie took time to tow the remains of the Scorpius deep into the asteroid belt, it likely would never be found, no matter how the Federation searched.

They had to warn the ship. But how? Their helmet communicators wouldn't reach it until it was right at the asteroid, and that would be too late. They had no other radio. If only the radios in the snapper-boats were on a Federation frequency ... hey! They could take one of the boats and intercept the cruiser!

He was hurrying toward them before Koa understood what he was saying. He tried to make his legs go faster, but they were unsteady. He knew he was losing blood. He had lost plenty. He gritted his teeth and kept going.

The snapper-boats seemed miles away to Rip, but he plugged ahead until his belt light picked them up. He took a long look, then turned away, heartsick. The Connie's exhaust had charred them into wreckage.

"Now what?" he asked.

"I don't know, sir," Koa answered somberly.

They went back to the cave, not hurrying because Rip no longer had the strength to hurry. Weakness and a deep desire to sleep almost overcame him, and he knew that he was finished anyway. His wound must be too deep to clot, which meant it would bleed until he bled to death. Whether he warned the Scorpius or not, his end was the same.

Back in the cave, he leaned against the wall and asked tiredly, "How is Dominico?"

"I am fine, sir. My wound stopped bleeding."

"How is the Connie I got?"

"Unconscious, sir," Santos replied. "He must be bleeding badly, but we can't tell. The one you landed on is all right now, but he may have a broken rib or two."

Because his voice was weak, Rip had to turn up the volume on his communicator to tell the Planeteers about the Scorpius. They were silent when he finished, then Dowst spoke up.

"Looks like they have us, sir. But we'll take plenty of them with us before we're finished."

"That's the spirit," Rip approved. He told them, "I won't last much longer. When I get too weak, Koa will take over. Meanwhile, I want to get outside. Bring the rocket launcher outside, too. Who's the gunner? Santos? Stand by, then. We'll need you in case the Connie decides to send a few snappers before it goes after the Scorpius."

The cruiser's glow was plain above the horizon, now. It was so close they could make out its form against the background of stars. O'Brine was decelerating and Rip was certain he was watching his screens for a sign of the enemy. He would see nothing, because the enemy was in the shadow of the asteroid. He would think the coast was clear, and come to a stop near by while he asked why Rip had called for help. Failing to get a reply, since the landing boat was wrecked, he would send a landing party, and the Connie would attack while he was launching boats, off guard.

Rip watched the prediction come true. The nuclear cruiser slowed gradually, its great bulk nearing the asteroid. O'Brine was operating as expected.

Rip was having trouble keeping his vision from blurring. He leaned against the rocket launcher and his glove caressed one of the sharp noses in the rack.

He heard his own voice before the idea had even taken full form. "Santos! Do you hear me? Santos! Get the Scorpius! Fire before it comes to a stop. And don't miss!"

Santos started to protest, but Koa bellowed, "Do it. The lieutenant's right. It's the only chance we've got to warn the ship. Get that scorpion, Santos. Dead amidships!"

The Filipino corporal swung into action. His space gloves flew as he cranked the launcher around, turned on the illuminated sight and bent low over it. Rip stood behind the corporal. He saw the cruiser's shape stand out in the glow of the sight, saw the sighting rings move as Santos corrected for its speed.

The corporal fired. Fire flared back past his shoulder. The rocket flashed away, its trail dwindling as it sped toward the great bulk above. It reached brennschluss and there was darkness. Rip held his breath for long seconds, then he gave a weak cry of victory.

A blossom of orange fire marked a perfect hit.



CHAPTER ELEVEN - HARD WORDS FOR O'BRINE

The Scorpius could have taken direct hits with little or no major damage from a hundred rockets of the kind Rip had used, but Commander O'Brine took no chances. When the alarm bell signaled that the outer hull had been hit, the commander acted instantly with a bellowed order.

The Planeteers on the asteroid blinked with the speed of the cruiser's getaway. Fire flamed from the stern tubes for an instant and then there was nothing but a fading glow where the Scorpius had been.

Rip had a mental image of everything movable in the ship crashing against bulkheads with the terrific acceleration.

And in the same moment, the Consops cruiser reacted. The Connie commander was ready to fire guided missiles, when his target suddenly, mysteriously blasted into space at optimum acceleration. There was only one reason the Connie could imagine: his cruiser had been spotted. The ambush had failed. It was one thing for the Connie to lie in ambush for a single, deadly surprise blast at the Federation cruiser. It was quite another to face the nuclear drive ship with its missile ports cleared for action. The Connie knew he had lost.

Rip and the Planeteers saw the Consops ship suddenly flame away, then turn and dive for low space below the asteroid belt in a direction opposite the one the Scorpius had taken. The helmet communicators rang with their cheers.

The young officer clapped Santos on the shoulder and exclaimed weakly, "Good shooting!"

The corporal turned anxiously to Koa. "The lieutenant's pretty weak. Can't we do something?"

"Forget it," Rip said. There was nothing anyone could do. He was trapped inside his space suit. There was nothing anyone could do for his wound until he got into air.

Koa untied his safety line and moved to Rip's side. "Sir, this is dangerous, but there's just as much danger without. I'm going to tie off that arm."

Rip knew what Koa meant. He stood quietly as the big sergeant-major put the line around his arm above the wound, then put his massive strength into the task of pulling the line tight. The heavy fabric of the suit was stiff, and the air pressure gave further resistance that had to be overcome. Rip let most of the air out of the suit, then fought for breath until the pain in his arm told him that Koa had succeeded. He inflated the suit again and thanked the sergeant-major weakly.

The tight line stopped the bleeding, but it also cut off the air circulation. Without the air, the heating system couldn't operate efficiently. It was only a matter of time before the arm froze.

"Stand easy," Rip told his men. "Nothing to do now but wait. The Scorpius will be back." He set an example by leaning against the thorium crystal in which the cave was located. It was a natural but meaningless gesture. With no gravity pulling at them they could remain standing indefinitely, sleeping upright.

Rip closed his eyes and relaxed. The pain in his arm was less now, and he knew the cold was setting in. He was getting light-headed, and most of all he wanted to sleep. Well, why not? He slumped a little inside the suit.

He awoke with Koa shaking him violently. Rip stood upright and shook his head to clear his vision. "What is it?"

"Sir, the Scorpius has returned."

Rip blinked as he stared out into space to where Koa was pointing. He had trouble focusing his eyes at first, and then he saw the glow of the cruiser.

"Good," he said. "They'll send a landing boat first thing."

"I hope so," Koa replied.

Rip wanted to ask why the big Planeteer doubted, but he was too tired to phrase the question. He contented himself with watching the cruiser.

In a short time the Scorpius was balanced with nose tubes counteracting the thrust of stern tubes, ready to flash into space again at a second's notice.

Rip watched, puzzled. The cruiser was miles away. Why didn't it come any closer? Then, suddenly, it erupted a dozen fiery streaks.

"Snapper-boats," someone gasped.

Rip jerked fully awake. In the ruddy glow of the fighting rockets' tubes he had seen that the cruiser's missile ports were yawning wide, ready to spew forth deadly nuclear charges.

The snapper-boats flashed toward the asteroid in a group, sheered off, and broke formation. They came back in pairs, streaking space with the sparks of their exhausts.

"Into the cave," Koa shouted.

The Planeteers obeyed instantly. Koa took Rip's arm, to lead him inside, but the young officer shook him off. "No, Koa. I'll take my chances out here. I want to see what they're up to."

"Great Cosmos, sir! They'll go over this rock like Martian beetles. You'll get it for sure."

"Get inside," Rip ordered. He gathered strength enough to make his voice firm. "I'm staying here until I figure out some way to call them off. We can't just stand here and let them blast us. They're our own men."

"Then I'm staying, too," Koa stated.

A pair of snapper-boats flashed overhead, and vanished below the horizon. Two more swept past from another direction.

Rip watched, curious. What were they up to? Another pair quartered past them at high speed, then two more. The dozen boats seemed to be criss-crossing the asteroid in a definite pattern. Why?

A pair streaked past, and something sped downward from one of them, trailing yellow flame. It exploded in a ball of molten fire that licked across the asteroid in waves. Rip tensed, then saw that the chemical would burn out before it reached them.

"Fire bomb," Koa muttered.

Rip nodded. He had recognized it. The Planeteers were trained in the use of fire bombs, tanks of chemicals that burned even in an airless world. They were equipped with simple jets for use in space.

The snapper-boats drew off, back toward the Scorpius. Rip watched, searching for some reason for their actions. Then one of the boats pulled away from the others. It returned to the asteroid with stern jet burning fitfully.

"Is he landing?" Koa asked.

Rip didn't know. The snapper-boat was moving slowly enough to make a landing.

Directly over the asteroid it changed direction, circled, and returned over their heads. Rip could almost have picked it off with a pistol shot. Santos could have blasted it into space dust with one rocket.

The snapper-boat changed direction, and for a fraction of a second stern and side tubes "fought" each other, making the boat yaw wildly, then it straightened out on a new course.



"They're Using Fire Bombs," Muttered Koa.

Koa exclaimed, "That's a drone!"

Rip got it then. A pilotless snapper-boat! That's why its actions were a little uneven. Only one thing could explain its deliberate slowness. It was bait. The Scorpius had sent piloted snapper-boats over the asteroid at high speed, criss-crossing in order to cover the thorium world completely, expecting to have the unknown rocketeer fire at them. Then a fire bomb had been dropped as a further means of getting the asteroid to fire. But no rockets had been fired from the asteroid, so the pilot in control of the drone had sent it at low speed, a perfect target.

That meant O'Brine wasn't sure of what was going on. He must have seen the blip on his screen as the Connie cruiser flamed off, Rip reasoned. But the commander probably suspected that the Connies had overcome the Planeteers and were in control of the asteroid. He had sent the snapper-boats to try and draw fire in an attempt to find out more surely whether Planeteers or Connies had the thorium rock.

"The Scorpius doesn't know what's going on," Rip told his Planeteers. "O'Brine didn't know the cruiser was waiting to ambush him, so the rocket we fired made him think the Connies had taken us over."

He put himself in O'Brine's place. What would his next step be? The snapper-boats hadn't drawn fire, even when a drone was sent over at low speed. The next thing would be to send a piloted boat over slowly enough to take a look.

Rip hoped O'Brine would hurry. There was no longer any feeling in his arm below Koa's safety line. That meant the arm had frozen. He had to get medical attention from the Scorpius pretty soon.

He gritted his teeth. At least he was no longer losing blood. He wasn't getting any weaker. But every now and then his vision fogged and he had to shake his head to clear it.

The pilotless snapper-boat made another slow run, then put on speed and flashed back to the group of boats near the cruiser. Another boat detached itself from the squadron and moved toward the asteroid.

Rip wished for a communicator powerful enough to reach the Scorpius, but knew it was useless to try with his helmet circuit. The carrier waves of the snapper-boats were on the same frequency, and they would smother the faint signal from his bubble.

But the boats might be able to hear if they got close enough! He had a swift memory of the communications circuits. The pilots were plugged into their boat communicators. If a boat got near enough, he could turn up his bubble to full volume and yell. Not only would the boat pilot hear him, but his voice would go through the pilot's circuit and be heard in the ship!

Rip grabbed Koa's arm. "Let's move away from the cave a little farther."

The two of them stepped away from the cave and stood in full view as the snapper-boat moved cautiously down toward the asteroid. Rip planned what he would say. "Commander O'Brine, this is Foster!"

No, that wouldn't do. Connies would know that Kevin O'Brine commanded the Scorpius, and if they had taken over the Planeteers on the asteroid, they would also have learned Rip's name. He had to say something that would identify him beyond a doubt.

The snapper-boat was closing in slowly. Rip knew the pilot and gunner must be tense, frightened, ready to blast with their guns at the first wrong move on the asteroid. He groped with his good arm and turned up his helmet communicator to full volume.

The fighting rocket drew closer, cut in its nose tube, and hovered only a few hundred feet above the Planeteers.

Rip summoned enough strength to make his voice sharp and clear. His words sped through space into the bubble of the pilot, echoed in the helmet and were picked up by the pilot's microphone, then hurled through the snapper-boat circuit through space to the control room of the cruiser.

O'Brine stiffened as the speaker threw Rip's voice at him, amplified and hollow-sounding from reverberations in the boat pilot's helmet.

"O'Brine is so ugly he won't look at his face in a clean blast tube! That no-good Irishman wouldn't know what to do with an asteroid if he had one!"

The commander turned purple with rage. He bellowed, "Foster!"

A junior space officer hid a grin and murmured, "Looks like the Planeteers still have the asteroid."

O'Brine bent over the communicator and yelled, "Deputy commander! Launch landing boats. Get those Planeteers and bring them here, under armed guard. Ram it!"

The snapper-boat pilot through whose circuit Rip had yelled turned to look wide-eyed at his gunner. "Did you hear that? Throw a light down on the asteroid. It must have come from there."

The gunner threw a switch and a searchlight port opened in the boat's belly. Its beam searched downward, swept past, then steadied on two space-clad figures.

"It worked," Rip said tiredly. He closed his eyes to guard them against the brilliant glare, then waved his good arm.

Santos called from the cave entrance. "Sir, landing boats are being launched!"

"Bring out the prisoners," Rip ordered. "Line them up. Planeteers fall in behind them."

The landing boats, with snapper-boats in watchful attendance, blasted down to the surface of the asteroid. Spacemen jumped out, awkward at first on the no-weight surface. An officer glided to meet Rip, and he had a pistol in his hand.

"It's all right," Rip told him. "The Connies are our prisoners. You won't need guns."

The spaceman snapped, "You're under arrest."

Rip stared incredulously. "What for?"

"The commander's orders. Don't give me any arguments. Just get aboard."

"I can't argue with a loaded gun," Rip said wearily. He called to his men. "We're under arrest. I don't know why. Don't try to resist. Do as the spacemen order."

Rip got aboard the nearest landing boat, his head spinning. O'Brine had made a mistake of some kind. The landing boats, loaded with Planeteers and Connies, lifted from the asteroid to the cruiser. They slid smoothly into the air locks and settled. The massive lock doors slid closed and lights flickered on. Rip waited, trying to keep consciousness from slipping away.

The lock gauges registered normal air, and the inner valves slid open. Commander O'Brine stepped through, his square jaw outthrust and his face flushed with anger. He bellowed, "Where's Foster?"

His voice was so loud Rip heard him faintly even through the bubble. He stepped out of the landing boat and faced the irate commander.

O'Brine ordered, "Get him out of that suit." Two spacemen jumped forward. One twisted Rip's bubble free and lifted it off. The heavy air of the ship hit him with physical force.

O'Brine grated, "You're under arrest, Foster, for firing on the Scorpius, for insubordination, and for conduct unbecoming an officer. Get out of that suit and get flaming. It's the spacepot for you."

Rip had to grin. He couldn't help it. He started to reply, but the heavy air of the cruiser, so much richer and denser than that of the suits, was too much. He slumped unconscious.

There was no gravity to pull him to the floor, but the action of his relaxing muscles swung him slowly until he lay face down in the air a few feet above the floor.

Commander O'Brine stared for a moment, then he took the unconscious Planeteer and swung him upright. His quick eyes took in the patch on the arm, the safety line tied tightly. He roared, "Quick! Get him to the wound ward!"

Rip came back to consciousness on the operating table. The wound in his arm had been neatly repaired, and below the wound, where his arm had frozen, a plastic temperature bag was slowly bringing the cold flesh back to normal. On his other side, a pulsing pressure pump forced new blood from the ship's supplies into his veins.

A senior space officer with the golden lancet of the medical service on his blue tunic bent over him. "How do you feel?"

Rip's voice surprised him. It was as full and strong as ever. "I feel wonderful. Can I get up?"

"When we get enough blood into you and your arm is fully restored."

Commander O'Brine appeared in the door frame. "Can he talk?"

"Yes. He's fine, sir."

O'Brine glared down at Rip. "Can you give me a good reason why I shouldn't have you treated for space madness, then toss you in the spacepot until we reach earth?"

"Best reason in the galaxy," Rip said cheerfully. "But before we talk about it, I want to know how my men are. One got cut and another had his bubble cracked. Also, one of the Connies got badly cut, another had some broken bones, and a third one bled into high vack when Koa cracked his bubble."

The doctor answered Rip's question. "Your men are all right. We put the one with the cracked bubble into high compression for a while, just to relieve his pain a little. The other one didn't bleed much. He's back in the squadroom right now. Two of the prisoners are patched up, but the third one is in the other operating room. I don't know whether we can save him or not. We're trying."

O'Brine nodded. "Thanks, doctor. Now, Foster, start talking. You fired on this ship, scored a hit, and broke the airseal. No casualties, fortunately. But by forcing us to accelerate at optimum speed, you caused so much breakage of ship's stores that we'll have to put into Marsport for new stocks. And on top of all that, you insulted me within the hearing of every man on the ship. I don't mind being insulted by Planeteers. I'm used to it. But when it's done over the ship's communications system, it's bad for discipline."