Part 12 (1/2)

There was urgency in the Planeteer's voice. ”What is it, Dowst?”

”Sir, take a look, about two degrees south of Rigel!”

Rip found the constellation Orion and looked at bright Rigel. For a moment he saw nothing; then, south of the star, he saw a thin, orange line.

Nuclear drive cruisers didn't have exhausts of that color, and there was only one rocket-drive s.h.i.+p around, so far as they knew.

Rip said softly, ”Let's get our house in order, gang. Looks as if we're going to get a visit from the Connies!”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Duck--or Die!

Sergeant Major Koa's great frame loomed in front of Rip. ”Think they've spotted us, sir?”

Rip hated to say it. ”Probably. Koa, can you estimate from the exhaust how far away they are?”

”Not very well, Lieutenant. From the position of the streak, I'd say they're decelerating.”

The Planeteers looked at Rip. He was in command, and they expected him to do something about the situation. Rip didn't know what to do. The rocket launcher, their only weapon, wasn't designed for fighting s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps. It was useful against snapper-boats and people, but firing at a cruiser would be like sending mosquitoes to fight elephants.

He sized up their position. For one thing, they were right out in the open, exposed to anything the Connie cruiser might throw at them. If they could get under cover, there might be a chance. At least it would take the Connies a while to find them.

For a moment he thought of hurrying into the landing boat and sending out a call for help to the _Scorpius_, but he thought better of it. They weren't certain that Connie had spotted them. He would wait until there was no doubt. Meanwhile, they had to find cover.

His searching eyes fell on the cutting torch. If they could use that to cut themselves right into the asteroid.... Suddenly he knew how it could be done. On the sun side he remembered a series of high-piled, giant crystals of thorium. They could cut into the side of one of those. And with Kemp's skill, they might be able to do it in time.

He called, ”Kemp, Koa, bring the torch and fuel and follow me.”

In his haste he took a misstep and flew headlong a few feet above the metal surface. Koa, gliding along behind him, turned him upright again.

He saw that the sergeant major was grinning. Rip grinned back. It was the second time he had lost his footing.

They reached the peaks of thorium, and Rip looked them over. The tallest was perhaps forty feet high. It was roughly pyramidal, with a base about sixty feet thick. It would do.

”Kemp.” The private hurried to his side. ”Take the torch and make us a cave. Make it big enough for the entire crew and the equipment.”

Kemp was a good Planeteer. He didn't stop to ask questions. He said, ”I'll make a small entrance and open the cave out inside.” He picked up the torch and got busy.

Rip smiled. The Planeteer was right. He should have thought of it himself, but it was good to see increasing proof that his men were smart as well as tough and disciplined.

”Bring up all supplies,” he told Koa. ”Move the boat over here, too. We won't be able to bury that, but we want it close by.” He had an idea for their boat. It was able to maneuver infinitely faster than the big cruiser. They could put the supplies in the cave, then take to the boat, depending on its ability to turn quickly and on Dowst's skill at piloting to play hide and seek. Dowst certainly could keep the asteroid between them and the cruiser.

The plan would fail when the cruiser sent a landing party. They would certainly come in snapper-boats, and those deadly little fighting craft could blast rings around the landing boat. The snapper-boats had gotten their name because fast acceleration and quick changes of position could snap a man right out of his seat if he forgot to buckle his harness tightly.

The solution would be to keep the landing boat close to the asteroid. At the first sign of a landing party, they would take to the cave, using the rocket launcher as a defense.

The supplies began to arrive. The Planeteers towed them two crates at a time in a steady line of hurrying men.