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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.
She could not see what possible use Johnny could have for a quart of cabinet glue, for instance, or for a blowtorch, or soldering iron, or brass wire, or for any of the other things named in the list.
"I guess we can manage somehow," he hazarded loftily. "A hell of a lot you know about flying!" Bland Halliday snorted. "A lot of cable to fit, and no blowtorch, and you tell me we can manage!" "Every fellow to his own game," Johnny retorted, feeling himself slipping from his sure footing of superiority. "I can ride, anyway." "Well, I'll say I can fly. Don't you forget that.
Lipton climbed up on the wing and motioned to Rick to put on the helmet and plug in his phones. There was a spare helmet-and-phone set in the rear seat for the Air Force officer. Rick switched the radio on and heard the soft hum of dynamotors. He cleared his throat and asked, "Do you read me?" "All right, Rick. Follow your check list and start the blowtorch going."
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 of any possible life! 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.
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