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."

He braced himself against acceleration and flipped the speed control to full power. The fighting rocket rammed out from the asteroid, snapping him back against the seat. He made a quick check. Gunsight on, fuel tanks almost full, propulsion tubes racked handy to his hand.

They drove toward the enemy cruiser at top speed, swerving in a great arc as the sun pulled at them. The enemy's big boat was out of the ship, its jets firing.

Rip leaned over his illuminated gunsight. The boat showed up clearly, the rings of the sight framing it. He estimated distance and the pull of the sun, then squeezed the trigger on the speed control handle. The cannon up in the nose spat fire. He watched tensely and saw the charge explode on the hull of the Connie cruiser. He had underestimated the sun's drag. He compensated and tried again.

He missed. Now that he was closer and the charge had less distance to travel, he had overestimated the sun's effect. He gritted his teeth. The next shot would be at close range.

The fighting rocket closed space, and the landing boat loomed large in the sight. He fired again, and the shot blew metal loose from the top of the boat's hull. A hit, but not good enough. He leaned over the sight to fire again, but before he had sighted, an explosion blew the assault boat completely around.

Koa and Pederson had scored a hit from the asteroid!

The big boat fired its side jets and spun around on course again. Flame bloomed from its side as Connie gunners tried to get the range on the snapper-boat.

Rip was within reach now. He fired at point-blank range and flashed over the boat as its front end exploded. Santos, firing from the rear, hit it again.

Rip threw the rocket into a turn that rammed him against the top of his harness. He steadied on a line with the crippled Connie craft. It was hard hit. The bow jets flickered fitfully, and the stern tubes were dead. He sighted, fired. A charge hit the boat aft and blew its stern tubes off completely.

And at the same moment, a Connie gunner got a perfect bead on the snapper-boat.

Space blew up in Rip's face. The snapper-boat slewed wildly as the Connie shot took effect. Rip worked his controls frantically, trying to straighten the rocket out more by instinct than anything else.

His eyes recovered from the blinding flash, and he gulped as he saw the raw, twisted metal where the boat's nose had been. He managed to correct the boat's twisting by using the stern tubes, but he lost full control of the ship.

For a moment panic gripped him. Without full control he couldn't get back to the asteroid! Then he forced himself to calm down. He sized up the situation. They were still underway, the stern tubes pushing, but their trajectory would take them right under the crippled Connie boat.

There was nothing he could do but pass close to the Connie. The enemy gunners would fire, but he had to take his chances. He looked down at the asteroid and saw an orange trail as Koa launched another rocket.

The shot from the asteroid ticked the bottom of the Connie boat and exploded. The Connie rolled violently. Tubes flared as the pilot fought to correct the roll. He slowed the spinning as Rip and Santos passed, just long enough for a Connie gunner to get in a final shot.

The shell struck directly under Rip. He felt himself pushed violently upward, and, at the same moment, he reacted—by hunch and not by reason. He rammed the controls full ahead, and the dying rocket cut space, curving slowly as flaming fuel spurted from the ruptured tanks.

Rip yelled, "Santos! You all right?"

"I think so. Lieutenant, we're on fire!"

"I know it. Get ready to abandon ship."

When the main mass of fuel caught, the rocket would become an inferno. Rip smashed at the escape hatch above his head, grabbed propulsion tubes from the rack, and called, "Now!"

He pulled the release on his harness, stood up on the seat, and thrust with all his leg power. He catapulted out of the burning snapper-boat into space.

Santos followed a second later, and the crippled rocket twisted wildly under the two Planeteers.

"Don't use the propulsion tubes," Rip called. "Slow down with your air bottles." He thrust the tubes into his belt, found his air bottles, and pointed two of them in the direction they had been traveling. He wanted to come to a stop, to let the wild snapper-boat get away from them.

The compressed-air bottles did the trick. He and Santos slowed down as the little jets overcame the inertia that was taking them along with the burning boat. The boat was spiraling now, burning freely. It moved away from them, its stern jets still firing weakly.

Rip took a look toward the enemy cruiser. The assault boat was no longer showing an exhaust. Instead, it was being dragged rapidly away from the Connie cruiser by the pull of the sun. At least it was hit in time to prevent launching of the atomic guided missiles. Or, he thought, perhaps the enemy had never intended using them. The principal effect, besides killing the Planeteers, would have been to drive the asteroid into the sun at an even faster rate.

The enemy assault boat was no longer a menace. Its occupants would be lucky if they succeeded in saving their own lives.

Rip wondered what the Connie cruiser commander would try now. Only one thing remained, and that was to set the cruiser down on the asteroid. If the Connie tried, he would arrive at just about the time set for releasing the nuclear charge. And that would be the end of the cruiser—and probably of the Planeteers as well.

Santos asked coolly, "Lieutenant, wouldn't you say we're in a sort of bad spot?"

Rip had been so busy sizing up the situation that he hadn't thought about his own predicament. Now he looked down and suddenly realized that he was floating free in space, a considerable distance above the asteroid, and with only small propulsion tubes for power.

He gasped, "Great space! We're in a mess, Santos."

The corporal asked, still in a calm voice, "How long will it be before we're dragged into the sun, sir?"

Rip stared. Santos had used the same tone he might have used in asking for a piece of Venusian chru. An officer couldn't be less calm, so Rip replied in a voice he hoped was casual, "I wouldn't worry, Santos. We won't know it. The heat will get through our suits long before then."

In fact, the heat should be overloading their ventilating systems right now. In a few minutes the cooling elements would break down, and that would be the end. He listened for the accelerated whine as the ventilating systems struggled under the increased heat load but heard nothing.

Funny. Had it overloaded and given out already? No, that was impossible. He would be feeling the heat on his body if that were the case.

He looked for an explanation and realized for the first time that they weren't in the sunlight at all. They were in darkness. His searching glance told him they were in the cone of shadow stretching out from behind the asteroid. The thorium rock was between them and the sun!

His lips moved soundlessly. Maj. Joe Barris had been right. In a jam, trust your hunch. He had acted instinctively, not even thinking as he used the last full power of the stern tubes to throw them into the shadow cone.

And he knew in the same moment that it could save their lives. The sun's pull would only accelerate their fall toward the asteroid. He said exultantly, "We're staying out of high vac, Santos. Light off a propulsion tube. Let's get back to the asteroid."

He pulled a tube from his belt, held it above his head, and thumbed the striker mechanism. The tube flared, pushing downward on his hand.

He held steady and plummeted feet first toward the rock.

Santos was only a few seconds behind him. Rip saw the corporal's tube flare and knew that everything was all right, at least for the moment, even though the asteroid was still a long way down.

He looked upward at the Connie cruiser and saw that it was moving. Its exhaust increased in length and deepened slightly in color as Rip watched.

Then he saw side jets flare out from the projecting control tubes and knew the ship was maneuvering. Rip realized suddenly that the cruiser was going to pick up the crippled assault boat.

He hadn't expected such a humane move, after his first meeting with the Connie cruiser when the commander had been willing to sacrifice his own men. This time, however, there was a difference, he saw. The commander would lose nothing by picking up the assault boat, and he would save a few men. Rip supposed that manpower meant something, even to Consops.

His propulsion tube reached Brennschluss, and for a few moments he watched, checking his speed and direction. Then, before he lit off another tube, he checked his chronometer. The illuminated dial registered 23:01. They had just four minutes to get to the asteroid!

He spoke swiftly. "Waste no time in lighting off, Santos. That nuclear charge goes in four minutes!"

Rip pulled a tube from his belt, held it overhead, and triggered it. His flight through space speeded up, but he wasn't at all sure they would make it. He turned up his helmet communicator to full power and called, "Koa, can you hear me?"

The sergeant major's reply was faint in his helmet. "I hear you weakly. Do you hear me?"

"Same way," Rip replied. "Get this, Koa. Don't fail to explode that charge at twenty-three-oh-five. Can you see us?"

The reply was very slightly stronger. "I will explode the charge as ordered, Lieutenant. We can see a pair of rocket exhausts, but no boats. Is that you?"

"Yes. We're coming in on propulsion tubes."

Koa waited for a long moment, then asked, "Sir, what if you're not with us by twenty-three-oh-five?"

"You know the answer," Rip retorted crisply.

Of course Koa knew. The nuclear blast would send Rip and Santos spinning into outer space, perhaps crippled, burned, or completely irradiated. But the lives of two men couldn't delay the blast that would save the lives of eight others, not counting prisoners.

Rip estimated his speed and course and the distance to the asteroid. He was increasingly sure that they wouldn't make it, and the knowledge was like the cold of space in his stomach. It would be close but not close enough. A minute would make all the difference.

For a few heartbeats he almost called Koa and told him to wait that extra minute, to explode the nuclear charge at 23:06, at the very last second. But even Planeteer chronometers could be off by a few seconds, and he couldn't risk it. His men had to be given some leeway.

He surveyed the asteroid. The nuclear charge was on his left side, pretty close to the sun line. At least he and Santos could angle to the right, to get as far away as possible.

The edge of the asteroid's shadow was barely visible. That it was visible at all was due to the minute particles of matter and gas that surrounded the sun, even millions of miles out into space. He reduced helmet power and told Santos, "Angle to the right. Get as close to the edge of shadow as you can without being cooked."

As an afterthought, he asked, "How many tubes do you have?"

"One after this, sir. I had three."

"Save the one you have left."

Rip didn't know yet what use they would be, but it was always a good idea to have some kind of reserve.

The Connie cruiser was sliding up to the crippled assault boat. Rip took a quick look, then shifted his hands and angled toward the edge of shadow. When he was within a few feet, he reversed the direction of the tube to keep from shooting out into the sunlight. A second or two later the tube burned out.

Santos was several yards away and slightly above him. Rip saw that the Planeteer was all right and turned his attention back to the cruiser. It was close enough to the assault boat to haul it in with grappling hooks. The hooks emerged and engaged the torn metal of the boat, then drew it into the waiting port. The massive air door slid closed.

The question was, would the Connie try to set his ship down on the asteroid? Rip grinned without mirth. Now would be a fine time. His chronometer showed a minute and a half to blast time.

He took another look at his own situation. He and Santos were getting close to the asteroid, but there was still over a half mile of Earth distance to go. They would cover perhaps three-fourths of that distance before Koa fired the charge.

He had a daring idea. How long could he and Santos last in direct sunlight? The effect of the sun in the open was powerful enough to make lead run like water. Their suits could absorb some heat, and the ventilating system could take care of quite a lot. They might last as much as three minutes, with luck.

They had to take a risk with the full knowledge that the odds were against them. But if they didn't take the risk, the blast would push them outward from the asteroid—into full sunlight. The end result would be the same.

"We're not going to make it, Santos," he began.

"I know it, sir," Santos replied.

Rip thought anyone with that much coolness and sheer nerve rated some kind of special treatment. And the young corporal had shown his ability time and time again. He said, "I should have known you knew, Sergeant Santos. We still have a slight chance. When I give the word, use an air bottle to push yourself into the sunlight. When I give the word again, light off your remaining tube."

"Yessir," Santos replied. "Thank you for the promotion. I hope I live to collect the extra rating."

"Same here," Rip agreed fervently. His eyes were on his chronometer, and with his free hand he took another air bottle. When the chronometer registered exactly one minute before blast time, he called, "Now!" He triggered the bottle and moved from shadow into glaring sunlight. A slight motion of the bottle turned him so his back was to the sun; then he used the remaining compressed air to push himself downward along the edge of shadow. The sun's gravity tugged at him.

He pulled the last tube from his belt and held it ready while he watched his chronometer creep around. With five seconds to go, he called to Santos and fired it. Acceleration pushed at him.

In the same moment, the nuclear charge exploded.