by Anthology
Rip and Koa watched the Connie cruiser. It decelerated to a stop for a brief second, then started moving again, with no jets showing.
"That's the sun pulling," Rip said exultantly.
"They'll have to keep blasting to maintain position."
The Consops commander didn't wait to trim ship against the sun's drag. His air locks opened, clearly visible to Rip and Koa because that side of the cruiser was brilliant with sunlight. Ten snapper-boats sped forth. Rip was certain now that this was the enemy cruiser they had fought off back in the asteroid belt. Two Connie snapper-boats had been destroyed in that clash, which explained why the commander was sending out only ten boats instead of a full quota of twelve.
The squadron instantly formed a V, like a strange space letter made up of globes. The sun's gravity pulled at them, dragging them off course. Rip watched as flames poured from their stern tubes. They were firing full speed ahead, but the drag of the sun distorted their line of flight into a great arc.
Rip saw the strategy instantly. The Connie commander knew the situation exactly, and he was staking everything on one great gamble, sending his snapper-boats to land on the asteroid--to crash-land if necessary.
The asteroid was so close to the sun that even the powerful fighting rockets would use most of their fuel in simply combating its gravity.
"All hands stand by to repel Connies," Rip shouted, and he drew his pistol. He looked into the magazine, saw that the clip was full, and then charged the weapon.
Santos was crouched over the rocket launcher, his space gloves working rapidly as he kept the rockets pointed at the enemy.
Rip called, "Santos, fire at will."
The Planeteers formed a skirmish line which pivoted on the launcher. Only Kemp remained at work. His torch flared, slicing through the thorium as he prepared their firing position.
The atomic charge was ready. The wires had been laid up to the rim of the crater in which Kemp worked, and the dynamo was attached.
Rip was everywhere, checking on the launcher, on Kemp, on the pistols of his men. And Santos, hunched over his illuminated sight, watched the Connie snapper-boats draw near.
"Here we go," the corporal muttered. He pressed the trigger.
The first rocket sped outward in a sweeping curve, and for a moment Rip opened his mouth to yell at Santos. The sun's gravity affected the attack rockets, too! Then he saw that the corporal had allowed for the sun's pull.
The rocket curved into the squadron of on-coming boats, and they all tried to dodge at once. Two of them met in a sideways crash, then a third staggered as its stern globe flared and exploded. Santos had scored a hit!
Rip called, "Good shooting!"
The corporal's reply was rueful. "Sir, that wasn't the one I aimed at. The sun's pull is worse than I figured."
The damaged snapper-boat instantly blasted from its nose tubes, decelerated, and went into reverse, flipping through space crabwise as it tried to regain the safety of the cruiser. The two boats that had crashed while trying to dodge were blasting in great spurts of flame, following the example of their damaged companion.
"Seven left," Rip called, and another rocket flashed on its way. He followed its trail as it curved away from the asteroid and into the squadron. Its proximity fuse detonated in the exhaust of a Connie boat, blowing the tube out of position. The boat yawed wildly, cut its stern tubes, and blasted to a stop from the bow tube. Then it, too, started backward toward the cruiser. Six left!
Flame blossomed a few yards from Rip. He was picked up bodily and flung into space, whirling end over end. Koa's voice rang in his helmet.
"Watch it! They're firing back!"
Rip tugged frantically at an air bottle in his belt. He pulled it out and used it to whirl him upright again; then its air blast drove him back to the surface of the asteroid. Sweat poured from his forehead, and the suit ventilator whined as it picked up the extra moisture. Great Cosmos! That was close!
Santos fired again, twice, in rapid succession. The Connie snapper-boats scattered as the proximity fuses produced flowers of fire among them. Two near misses, but they threw the enemy off course. Rip watched tensely as the boats fought to regain their course. He knew asteroid, cruiser, and boats were speeding toward the sun at close to fifty miles a second, and the drag was getting terrific. The Connies knew it, too.
There was an exultant yell from the Planeteers as two of the boats gave up and turned back, using full power to regain the safety of the mother ship. Four left!
Santos scored a direct hit on the nose of the nearest one, but its momentum drove it to within a few yards of the asteroid. Five space-suited figures erupted from it, holding hand propulsion units, tubes of rocket fuel used for hand combat in empty space.
The Connies lit their propulsion tubes and drove feet first for the asteroid. The Planeteers estimated where the enemy would land, and they were there waiting, with aimed handguns. The Connies had their hands over their heads, holding the propulsion tubes. They took one look at the gleaming Planeteer guns, and their hands stayed upright.
The Planeteers lashed the Connies' hands behind them with their own safety lines and, at Rip's orders, dumped all but one of them into the crater where Kemp was just finishing his cutting.
Three snapper-boats remained. Rip watched, holding tightly to the arm of the Connie he had kept at his side. The man wore the insignia of an officer.
The remaining snapper-boats were going to make it. Santos threw rockets among them and scored hits, but the boats kept coming. The Connies were too far away from the cruiser to return, and they knew it. Getting to the asteroid was their only chance.
Rip called, "Santos! Cease fire. Set the launcher for ground level. Let them land, but don't fire until I give the word."
He put his helmet against his prisoner's for direct communication. "You speak English?"
The man shouted back, "Yes."
"Good. We're going to let your friends land. As soon as they do, I want you to yell to them. Say we have assault rockets trained on them. Tell them to surrender, or they'll be killed in their tracks. Got that?"
The Connie replied, "Suppose I refuse?"
Rip put his space knife against the man's stomach. "Then we'll get them with rockets. But you won't care, because you won't know it."
The truth was that Santos couldn't hope to get them all with his rockets. They might overcome the Connies in hand-to-hand fighting, but there would be a cost to pay in Planeteer casualties. Rip hoped the Connie wouldn't call his bluff, because that's all it was. He couldn't use a space knife on an unarmed prisoner.
The Connie didn't know that. In Rip's place he would have no compunctions about using the knife, so instead of calling Rip's bluff, he agreed.
The snapper-boats blew their front tubes, decelerating, and squashed down to the asteroid in a roar of exhaust flames, sending the Planeteers running out of the way. Rip thrust harder with his space knife and yelled, "Tell them!"
The Connie officer nodded. "Turn up my communicator."
Rip turned it on full, and the Connie barked quick instructions. The exhausts died, and five men filed out of each boat, with hands held high. Rip blew a drop of perspiration from the tip of his nose. Empty space! It was a good thing Connie morale was bad. The enemy's willingness to surrender had saved them a costly fight.
The Planeteers rounded up the prisoners and secured them, while Rip took an anxious look at the communicator. It was about time he heard from Terra base.
The light was glowing. For all he knew, it might have been glowing for many minutes. He plugged into the circuit.
"This is Foster on the asteroid."
"Terra base to Foster. Listen. You will reach optimum position on the time-distance curve at twenty-three-oh-six."
"Got it. We will reach optimum position at twenty-three-oh-six." He looked at his chronometer, and his pulse stopped. It was 22:58! They had just eight minutes before the sun caught them forever, atomic blast or no!
And the Co
nnie cruiser was still overhead, with no friendly cruisers in sight. He looked up, white-faced. Not only was the Connie still there, but its main air lock was sliding open to disclose a new danger.
In the opening, ready to launch, an assault boat waited. The assault boats were something only the Connies used. They were about four times the size of a snapper-boat, less maneuverable but more powerful. They carried twenty men and a pair of guided missiles with atomic warheads!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Rocketeers
Rip ran for the snapper-boat, feet moving as rapidly as lack of gravity would permit. He called instructions. "Santos! Turn the launcher over to Pederson and come with me. Koa, take over. Start throwing rockets at that boat, and don't stop until you run out of ammunition."
He reached the snapper-boat and squeezed in, Santos close behind him. As he strapped himself into the seat he called, "Koa! Get this, and get it straight. At twenty-three-oh-five, fire the bomb. Fire it whether I'm back or not."
Koa replied, "Got it, sir."
That would give the Planeteers a minute's leeway. Not much of a safety margin, especially when he wasn't sure how much power the atomic charge would produce.
He plugged into the snapper-boat's communicator and called, "Ready, Santos?"
"Ready, Lieutenant."
He braced himself against acceleration and flipped the speed control to full power. The fighting rocket rammed out from the asteroid, snapping him back against the seat. He made a quick check. Gunsight on, fuel tanks almost full, propulsion tubes racked handy to his hand.
They drove toward the enemy cruiser at top speed, swerving in a great arc as the sun pulled at them. The enemy's big boat was out of the ship, its jets firing.
Rip leaned over his illuminated gunsight. The boat showed up clearly, the rings of the sight framing it. He estimated distance and the pull of the sun, then squeezed the trigger on the speed control handle. The cannon up in the nose spat fire. He watched tensely and saw the charge explode on the hull of the Connie cruiser. He had underestimated the sun's drag. He compensated and tried again.
He missed. Now that he was closer and the charge had less distance to travel, he had overestimated the sun's effect. He gritted his teeth. The next shot would be at close range.
The fighting rocket closed space, and the landing boat loomed large in the sight. He fired again, and the shot blew metal loose from the top of the boat's hull. A hit, but not good enough. He leaned over the sight to fire again, but before he had sighted, an explosion blew the assault boat completely around.
Koa and Pederson had scored a hit from the asteroid!
The big boat fired its side jets and spun around on course again. Flame bloomed from its side as Connie gunners tried to get the range on the snapper-boat.
Rip was within reach now. He fired at point-blank range and flashed over the boat as its front end exploded. Santos, firing from the rear, hit it again.
Rip threw the rocket into a turn that rammed him against the top of his harness. He steadied on a line with the crippled Connie craft. It was hard hit. The bow jets flickered fitfully, and the stern tubes were dead. He sighted, fired. A charge hit the boat aft and blew its stern tubes off completely.
And at the same moment, a Connie gunner got a perfect bead on the snapper-boat.
Space blew up in Rip's face. The snapper-boat slewed wildly as the Connie shot took effect. Rip worked his controls frantically, trying to straighten the rocket out more by instinct than anything else.
His eyes recovered from the blinding flash, and he gulped as he saw the raw, twisted metal where the boat's nose had been. He managed to correct the boat's twisting by using the stern tubes, but he lost full control of the ship.
For a moment panic gripped him. Without full control he couldn't get back to the asteroid! Then he forced himself to calm down. He sized up the situation. They were still underway, the stern tubes pushing, but their trajectory would take them right under the crippled Connie boat.
There was nothing he could do but pass close to the Connie. The enemy gunners would fire, but he had to take his chances. He looked down at the asteroid and saw an orange trail as Koa launched another rocket.
The shot from the asteroid ticked the bottom of the Connie boat and exploded. The Connie rolled violently. Tubes flared as the pilot fought to correct the roll. He slowed the spinning as Rip and Santos passed, just long enough for a Connie gunner to get in a final shot.
The shell struck directly under Rip. He felt himself pushed violently upward, and, at the same moment, he reacted--by hunch and not by reason. He rammed the controls full ahead, and the dying rocket cut space, curving slowly as flaming fuel spurted from the ruptured tanks.
Rip yelled, "Santos! You all right?"
"I think so. Lieutenant, we're on fire!"
"I know it. Get ready to abandon ship."
When the main mass of fuel caught, the rocket would become an inferno. Rip smashed at the escape hatch above his head, grabbed propulsion tubes from the rack, and called, "Now!"
He pulled the release on his harness, stood up on the seat, and thrust with all his leg power. He catapulted out of the burning snapper-boat into space.
Santos followed a second later, and the crippled rocket twisted wildly under the two Planeteers.
"Don't use the propulsion tubes," Rip called. "Slow down with your air bottles." He thrust the tubes into his belt, found his air bottles, and pointed two of them in the direction they had been traveling. He wanted to come to a stop, to let the wild snapper-boat get away from them.
The compressed-air bottles did the trick. He and Santos slowed down as the little jets overcame the inertia that was taking them along with the burning boat. The boat was spiraling now, burning freely. It moved away from them, its stern jets still firing weakly.
Rip took a look toward the enemy cruiser. The assault boat was no longer showing an exhaust. Instead, it was being dragged rapidly away from the Connie cruiser by the pull of the sun. At least it was hit in time to prevent launching of the atomic guided missiles. Or, he thought, perhaps the enemy had never intended using them. The principal effect, besides killing the Planeteers, would have been to drive the asteroid into the sun at an even faster rate.
The enemy assault boat was no longer a menace. Its occupants would be lucky if they succeeded in saving their own lives.
Rip wondered what the Connie cruiser commander would try now. Only one thing remained, and that was to set the cruiser down on the asteroid. If the Connie tried, he would arrive at just about the time set for releasing the nuclear charge. And that would be the end of the cruiser--and probably of the Planeteers as well.
Santos asked coolly, "Lieutenant, wouldn't you say we're in a sort of bad spot?"
Rip had been so busy sizing up the situation that he hadn't thought about his own predicament. Now he looked down and suddenly realized that he was floating free in space, a considerable distance above the asteroid, and with only small propulsion tubes for power.
He gasped, "Great space! We're in a mess, Santos."
The corporal asked, still in a calm voice, "How long will it be before we're dragged into the sun, sir?"
Rip stared. Santos had used the same tone he might have used in asking for a piece of Venusian chru. An officer couldn't be less calm, so Rip replied in a voice he hoped was casual, "I wouldn't worry, Santos. We won't know it. The heat will get through our suits long before then."
In fact, the heat should be overloading their ventilating systems right now. In a few minutes the cooling elements would break down, and that would be the end. He listened for the accelerated whine as the ventilating systems struggled under the increased heat load but heard nothing.
Funny. Had it overloaded and given out already? No, that was impossible. He would be feeling the heat on his body if that were the case.
He looked for an explanation and realized for the first time that they weren't in the sunlight at all. They were in darkness. His searching glanc
e told him they were in the cone of shadow stretching out from behind the asteroid. The thorium rock was between them and the sun!
His lips moved soundlessly. Maj. Joe Barris had been right. In a jam, trust your hunch. He had acted instinctively, not even thinking as he used the last full power of the stern tubes to throw them into the shadow cone.
And he knew in the same moment that it could save their lives. The sun's pull would only accelerate their fall toward the asteroid. He said exultantly, "We're staying out of high vac, Santos. Light off a propulsion tube. Let's get back to the asteroid."
