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Updated: June 5, 2025
Koa was waiting to give him a hand into the craft. The Planeteers were standing, except for Dowst. Rip had never seen an old-type railroad, or he might have likened the landing boat to a railroad boxcar. It was about the same size and shape, but had huge "windows" on both sides and in front of the pilot windows that were not enclosed. The space-suited men needed no protection.
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.
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.
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.
I handpicked them myself. The one with the white hair is Corporal Nels Pederson, from Sweden. I served with him at Marsport, and he's a real tough spacewalker in a fight. The other corporal is Paulo Santos. He's from the Philippines, and the best snapper-boat gunner you ever saw." He pointed out the six privates. Kemp and Dowst were Americans.
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.
At last, certain that everything was in good order, he said quietly, "Pilots, man your boats." Dowst got into one and a spaceman into the other. Dowst’s boat would stay with them on the asteroid. The spaceman would bring the other to the ship. Commander O’Brine stepped through the valve into the boat lock. A spaceman handed him a hand communicator. He spoke into it.
He put the problem out of his mind and concentrated on what his men were saying. "... and he slugged into that asteroid going close to seven AU’s," Santos was saying. The little Filipino corporal shrugged expressively. Rip recognized the story. It was about a supply ship, a chemical drive rocket job that had blasted into an asteroid a few years before. Private Dowst shrugged, too. "Too bad.
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!"
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