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The details took form in his mind even as he called orders. "Dominico, tear down that bomb. Santos, remove two heads from your rockets and wire them to explode on electrical impulse. Kemp, we'll want the tube just a fraction of an inch wider than a rocket head. Get your torch ready." He took the stylus and began calculating.
The reason for collapsing the suit was to deprive the enemy of air instantly, so that he could be tied up while helpless from lack of oxygen. There was enough air in the suit for only a few breaths once the supply was cut off. The Connie on the ground was neatly trussed. Rip's prisoner joined him. Dowst switched off his belt light. "Now what, sir?" Dominico was standing patiently nearby.
That’s it!" The details took form in his mind even as he called orders. "Dominico, tear down that bomb. Santos, remove two heads from your rockets and wire them to explode on electrical impulse. Kemp, we’ll want the tube just a fraction of an inch wider than a rocket head. Get your torch ready." He took the stylus and began calculating.
He reached the first pyramid of thorium and directed, "Get behind these rocks and stay down. Feel your way. Use me for a guide. I'll hold on until you're under cover." He gripped a crystal. "Come on." Dominico pulled himself along Dowst's prone form and then along Rip's.
Dominico had a tube of rocket fuel under each arm. The Italian was small, and the tubes were bulky. Each was about ten feet long and two feet in diameter. With any gravity or air resistance at all, the Italian couldn't have carried even one. Santos took the radiation detection instruments and the case with the astrogation equipment from Koa.
Weakness and a deep desire to sleep almost overcame him, and he knew that he was finished, anyway. His wound must be too deep to clot, which meant it would bleed until he bled to death. Whether he warned the Scorpius or not, his end was the same. Back in the cave, he leaned against the wall and asked tiredly. "How is Dominico?" "I am fine, sir. My wound stopped bleeding."
The nobleman, in his gilded carriage with liveried servants, stops and pays the tribute of an uncovered head to some saintly image by the bridge or the roadside; the peasant, in his shaggy sheepskin capote, doffs his greasy cap, and, while devoutly crossing himself, utters a prayer; the soldier, grim and warlike, marches up in his rattling armor, grounds his musket, and forgets for the time his mission of blood; the tradesman, with his leather apron and labor-worn hands, lays down his tools and does homage to the shrine; the drosky-driver, noted for his petty villainies, checks his horse, and, standing up in his drosky, bows low and crosses himself before he crosses the street or the bridge; even my guide, the saturnine Dominico and every body knows what guides are all over the world halted at every corner, regardless of time, and uttered an elaborate form of adjurations for our mutual salvation.
Dominico, the Italian, held up his hands and exclaimed, "Santa Maria!" Kemp, one of the American privates, asked, "How do we do it, sir?" Rip grinned. "That’s a good question. I don’t know." That stopped them. They stared at him. He added quickly, "Supplies came aboard at Marsport. We’ll get the clue when we open them.
That leaves us no margin, even if we risk getting radiation sickness. So we have to get shielding pretty soon. If we do, we can last the trip." Private Dominico saluted and moved forward. "Sir, may I ask a question?" Rip turned to face the Planeteer, still worrying over the problem. He nodded and said, "What is it, Dominico?" "Sir, I think we can't worry too much about this radiation, eh?
The liveried gentleman became excited and insolent assuring me, through the guide, that no stranger of any pretensions to gentility ever offered him less than a ruble. I must confess I was a little nettled at the fellow's manner, and directed Dominico to tell him that, having no pretensions to gentility, I must close my acquaintance with him, and therefore bid him good-morning.
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