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The four missiles hurtled toward the two enemy destroyers, and a second later two brilliant flashes of light appeared on the scanner. Direct hits on the two destroyers! "Range ten thousand feet," came the calm voice over the intercom, reminding Strong of the enemy cruiser.
The roar of the crowds was lost in the explosions of the rockets. And the greatest race in space was underway. Strong raced up to the control tower and stood in front of the radar scanner to watch the course of the three vessels now blasting through the atmosphere. They were three white blips on the green surface of the glass scope, in perfect line, traveling at incredible speeds.
In three days the frigate was revictualled and watered; and the officers had barely time to have their sea arrangements completed, before the frigate again expanded her canvas to a favourable breeze. In a few hours the island was left so far astern as to appear like the blue mist which so often deceives the expectant scanner of the horizon. "You Billy Pitt! is all my linen come on board?"
Tom snapped on the machine and brought the microphone over to Barret, holding it in front of his trembling mouth. "All right, talk!" Connel growled. "And tell it all." Barret had hardly uttered the first stumbling words when Roger let out a shout of alarm. "Hey! The scanner!" he cried. They all turned to the teleceiver screen. To their horror, they saw a menacing shape blasting toward them.
Somebody had been trying to lower a scanner or a visiplate-pickup, or something of the sort; the exact nature of the instrument was not evident from the wreckage Dalla's bullet had made of it. The rooms Dirzed and Sarnax entered were all quiet; nobody seemed to be attempting to cut through the ceiling, fifteen feet above.
Someone turned on a TV scanner and picked up the image of a small ship hardly larger than a patrol ship, with just two passengers stepping down the ladder to the ground. Then the camera went close-up. Dal saw the faces of the two men, and his heart sank. One was a Four-star Surgeon, resplendent in flowing red cape and glistening silver insignia.
"If Roger's positioning was correct, sir," said Tom, "then that's the Lady Venus. They both check out perfectly!" Strong, bent over the radar scanner, didn't answer. Finally he turned around and flipped off the scanner. "That's her," he announced. "Congratulations, Roger. You hit it right on the nose!" "How shall we approach her, sir?" asked Tom. "We'd better wait until she sends up her flares."
I holstered my pistol, pushed past Joyce, and trotted for the lift. The mob behind me broke up, talking, as men under long habit ran for action stations. Clay was operating calmly under pressure. He sat at the main screen, and studied the blip, making tiny crayon marks. "She's too far out for a reliable scanner track, Captain," he said, "but I'm pretty sure she's braking."
"Pressure up to seven ninety-one, sir," reported Astro. "Attention! All members strap into acceleration cushions!" One by one, Shinny and Alfie, Loring and Mason, Astro and Roger strapped themselves into the acceleration cushions. Roger set the radar scanner and strapped himself in on the radar bridge.
He'd heard that land-prawns had no natural enemies; he questioned that. Something killed them. He'd seen crushed prawn shells, some of them close to his camp. Maybe stamped on by something with hoofs, and then picked clean by insects. He'd ask Ben Rainsford; Ben ought to know. Half an hour later, the scanner gave him another interruption pattern. He laid it aside and took up the small vibrohammer.
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