Rip Foster Rides the Gray Planet by Harold L. Goodwin (best management books of all time txt) 📗

the cruiser was brilliant with sunlight. Ten snapper-boats sped forth. Rip was certain now that this was the enemy cruiser they had fought off back in the asteroid belt. Two Connie snapper-boats had been destroyed in that clash, which explained why the commander was sending out only ten boats, instead of the full quota of twelve.

The squadron instantly formed a V, like a strange space letter made up of globes. The sun's gravity pulled at them, dragging them off course. Rip watched as flames poured from their stern tubes. They were firing full speed ahead, but the drag of the sun distorted their line of flight into a great arc.

Rip saw the strategy instantly. The Connie commander knew the situation exactly, and he was staking everything in one great gamble, sending his snapper-boats to land on the asteroid—to crash land if necessary.

The asteroid was so close to the sun that even the powerful fighting rockets would use most of their fuel in simply combatting its gravity.

"All hands stand by to repel Connies," Rip shouted, and drew his pistol. He looked into the magazine, saw that he had a full clip, and then charged the weapon.

Santos was crouched over the rocket launcher, his space gloves working rapidly as he kept the rockets pointed at the enemy.

[pg 186]

Rip called, "Santos, fire at will."

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 Filipino 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 oncoming 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[pg 187] its nose tubes, decelerated and went into reverse, flipping through space 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 space, 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 worked to pick up the extra moisture. Great Cosmos! That was close.

Koa called, "All right, sir?"

"Fine."

Santos fired again, twice, in rapid succession. The[pg 188] 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 50 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 ship.

Four left, and they were getting close!

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

The Connies lit off their propulsion tubes and drove feet first for the asteroid. The Planeteers estimated where the enemy would land, and were there waiting with pointed 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 finishing.

Three snapper-boats remained. Rip watched, holding[pg 189] 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 hoped his plan would work. Experience back in the asteroid belt had taught him something about Connies.

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 assault 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 space 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, 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[pg 190] was. He couldn't use a space 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 space 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 space! 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.[pg 191] Repeat back, 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 2258! 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 assault boat waited. The assault 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 20 men and a pair of guided missiles with atomic warheads!