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If it was, he'd overtake them from behind. If he were higher, they'd overtake him. He turned on the space phone. Its reception-indicator was piously placed at "Ground." He shifted it to "Space," so that it would pick up calls going planetward, instead of listening vainly for replies from the nonoperative landing grid. Instantly voices boomed in his ears. Many voices.
There was something which cast a long, lacy shadow. The landing-grid. "But they don't answer our call," observed Calhoun, "so we go down unwelcomed." He inverted the Med Ship and the emergency-rockets boomed. The ship plunged planetward. A long time later it was deep in the planet's atmosphere. The noise of its rockets had become thunderous, with air to carry and to reinforce the sound.
It would be impossible for the Nansalians to lower their magnetic screen, even for a second, so Arcot simply aimed the ship toward it and turned on the power. "Hold on!" he called as they struck it. The ship reeled and sank suddenly planetward, then it bounced up and outward. They were through the wall. The rooms were suddenly oppressively hot, and the molecular cooler was struggling to lower it.
Instantly Hanlon could feel the surge of acceleration as the great ship he was riding plummeted planetward. In the plate he and his father were scanning, he could see the dots of blue light that identified the nearest scouts, and a moment later the greens of the light cruisers. Then those dots fled behind his range of vision as the heavies flashed past them.
There was something which cast a long, lacy shadow: the landing-grid. "But they don't answer our call," observed Calhoun, "so we go down unwelcomed." He inverted the Med Ship and the emergency rockets boomed. The ship plunged planetward. A long time later it was deep in the planet's atmosphere. The noise of its rockets had become thunderous, with air to carry and to reinforce the sound.
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