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Updated: May 24, 2025
A messenger from the grid-control building arrived. He had a map of the capital city of Tralee. There was an explosion. A violent one. Bors looked out a port and saw where the suspected parcel had been set up as a target a hundred yards from the ship. It had been riddled with blast-rifle bolts, and had exploded.
In thirty seconds we fire missiles into government buildings, in retaliation for an attempt to assassinate us with time-bombs. The next sound you hear will be our missiles arriving." He cut back to the grid-control building. "Fire all charges and report to the ship." Almost instantly curt, crisp reports sounded nearby.
They wanted to get as far as possible from the buildings Bors had said would be destroyed. "Forty-five seconds gone," said Bors implacably. A voice spoke from the grid-control building, where men were now placing explosives with precisely calculated effects. The voice came on microwaves to the ship. "Sir," said the voice, "landing-grid reporting.
Briskly moving landing-parties trotted across the ground toward the grid-control building. There were two ships already in the spaceport. One was a Mekinese guard-ship of approximately the armament of the Isis. Weapons trained swiftly upon it. Missiles roared across the half-mile of distance. They detonated, chemical explosives only. The Mekinese guard-ship flew apart.
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