Rip Foster in Ride the Gray Planet Part 24

The Planeteers formed a skirmish line which pivoted on the launcher. Only Kemp remained at work. His torch flared, slicing through the thorium as he prepared their firing position.

The atomic charge was ready. The wires had been laid up to the rim of the crater in which Kemp worked, and the dynamo was attached.

Rip was everywhere, checking on the launcher, on Kemp, on the pistols of his men. And Santos, hunched over his illuminated sight, watched the Connie snapper-boats draw near.

"Here we go," the corporal muttered. He pressed the trigger.

The first rocket sped outward in a sweeping curve, and for a moment Rip opened his mouth to yell at Santos. The sun's gravity affected the attack rockets, too! Then he saw that the corporal had allowed for the sun's pull.

The rocket curved into the squadron of on-coming boats, and they all tried to dodge at once. Two of them met in a sideways crash, then a third staggered as its stern globe flared and exploded. Santos had scored a hit!

Rip called, "Good shooting!"

The corporal's reply was rueful. "Sir, that wasn't the one I aimed at.

The sun's pull is worse than I figured."

The damaged snapper-boat instantly blasted from its nose tubes, decelerated, and went into reverse, flipping through s.p.a.ce crabwise as it tried to regain the safety of the cruiser. The two boats that had crashed while trying to dodge were blasting in great spurts of flame, following the example of their damaged companion.

"Seven left," Rip called, and another rocket flashed on its way. He followed its trail as it curved away from the asteroid and into the squadron. Its proximity fuse detonated in the exhaust of a Connie boat, blowing the tube out of position. The boat yawed wildly, cut its stern tubes, and blasted to a stop from the bow tube. Then it, too, started backward toward the cruiser. Six left!

Flame blossomed a few yards from Rip. He was picked up bodily and flung into s.p.a.ce, whirling end over end. Koa's voice rang in his helmet.

"Watch it! They're firing back!"

Rip tugged frantically at an air bottle in his belt. He pulled it out and used it to whirl him upright again; then its air blast drove him back to the surface of the asteroid. Sweat poured from his forehead, and the suit ventilator whined as it picked up the extra moisture. Great Cosmos! That was close!

Santos fired again, twice, in rapid succession. The Connie snapper-boats scattered as the proximity fuses produced flowers of fire among them. Two near misses, but they threw the enemy off course. Rip watched tensely as the boats fought to regain their course. He knew asteroid, cruiser, and boats were speeding toward the sun at close to fifty miles a second, and the drag was getting terrific. The Connies knew it, too.

There was an exultant yell from the Planeteers as two of the boats gave up and turned back, using full power to regain the safety of the mother s.h.i.+p. Four left!

Santos scored a direct hit on the nose of the nearest one, but its momentum drove it to within a few yards of the asteroid. Five s.p.a.ce-suited figures erupted from it, holding hand propulsion units, tubes of rocket fuel used for hand combat in empty s.p.a.ce.

The Connies lit their propulsion tubes and drove feet first for the asteroid. The Planeteers estimated where the enemy would land, and they were there waiting, with aimed handguns. The Connies had their hands over their heads, holding the propulsion tubes. They took one look at the gleaming Planeteer guns, and their hands stayed upright.

The Planeteers lashed the Connies' hands behind them with their own safety lines and, at Rip's orders, dumped all but one of them into the crater where Kemp was just finis.h.i.+ng his cutting.

Three snapper-boats remained. Rip watched, holding tightly to the arm of the Connie he had kept at his side. The man wore the insignia of an officer.

The remaining snapper-boats were going to make it. Santos threw rockets among them and scored hits, but the boats kept coming. The Connies were too far away from the cruiser to return, and they knew it. Getting to the asteroid was their only chance.

Rip called, "Santos! Cease fire. Set the launcher for ground level. Let them land, but don't fire until I give the word."

He put his helmet against his prisoner's for direct communication. "You speak English?"

The man shouted back, "Yes."

"Good. We're going to let your friends land. As soon as they do, I want you to yell to them. Say we have a.s.sault rockets trained on them. Tell them to surrender, or they'll be killed in their tracks. Got that?"

The Connie replied, "Suppose I refuse?"

Rip put his s.p.a.ce knife against the man's stomach. "Then we'll get them with rockets. But you won't care, because you won't know it."

The truth was that Santos couldn't hope to get them all with his rockets.

They might overcome the Connies in hand-to-hand fighting, but there would be a cost to pay in Planeteer casualties. Rip hoped the Connie wouldn't call his bluff, because that's all it was. He couldn't use a s.p.a.ce knife on an unarmed prisoner.

The Connie didn't know that. In Rip's place he would have no compunctions about using the knife, so instead of calling Rip's bluff, he agreed.

The snapper-boats blew their front tubes, decelerating, and squashed down to the asteroid in a roar of exhaust flames, sending the Planeteers running out of the way. Rip thrust harder with his s.p.a.ce knife and yelled, "Tell them!"

The Connie officer nodded. "Turn up my communicator."

Rip turned it on full, and the Connie barked quick instructions. The exhausts died, and five men filed out of each boat, with hands held high.

Rip blew a drop of perspiration from the tip of his nose. Empty s.p.a.ce!

It was a good thing Connie morale was bad. The enemy's willingness to surrender had saved them a costly fight.

The Planeteers rounded up the prisoners and secured them, while Rip took an anxious look at the communicator. It was about time he heard from Terra base.

The light was glowing. For all he knew, it might have been glowing for many minutes. He plugged into the circuit.

"This is Foster on the asteroid."

"Terra base to Foster. Listen. You will reach optimum position on the time-distance curve at twenty-three-oh-six."

"Got it. We will reach optimum position at twenty-three-oh-six." He looked at his chronometer, and his pulse stopped. It was 22:58! They had just eight minutes before the sun caught them forever, atomic blast or no!

And the Connie cruiser was still overhead, with no friendly cruisers in sight. He looked up, white-faced. Not only was the Connie still there, but its main air lock was sliding open to disclose a new danger.

In the opening, ready to launch, an a.s.sault boat waited. The a.s.sault boats were something only the Connies used. They were about four times the size of a snapper-boat, less maneuverable but more powerful. They carried twenty men and a pair of guided missiles with atomic warheads!

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The Rocketeers

Rip ran for the snapper-boat, feet moving as rapidly as lack of gravity would permit. He called instructions. "Santos! Turn the launcher over to Pederson and come with me. Koa, take over. Start throwing rockets at that boat, and don't stop until you run out of ammunition."

He reached the snapper-boat and squeezed in, Santos close behind him. As he strapped himself into the seat he called, "Koa! Get this, and get it straight. At twenty-three-oh-five, fire the bomb. Fire it whether I'm back or not."

Koa replied, "Got it, sir."

That would give the Planeteers a minute's leeway. Not much of a safety margin, especially when he wasn't sure how much power the atomic charge would produce.

He plugged into the snapper-boat's communicator and called, "Ready, Santos?"

"Ready, Lieutenant."