are the worst. One hundred
ninety-two eternal seconds of waiting, of deathly silence and deathly
calm, feeling and hearing nothing but the slow pounding of their own
heartbeats. Each time he got back, it faded away, and all he
remembered was the excitement. But each time he went through it, it
was worse. Just standing and waiting in the silence, praying they
weren't spotted--staring at the unmoving firmament and knowing he
was a projectile hurtling two miles each second straight at a clump of
metal and flesh that was the enemy. Knowing the odds were twenty to
one against their scoring a kill ... unless they ran into him.
* * * * *
At eighty-five seconds, he corrected slightly to center the pip. The
momentary hiss of the rockets was a relief. He heard the muffled
yammering as Guns fired a short burst from the .30's standing out of
their compartments around the sides of the ship. They were practically
recoilless, but the burst drifted him forward against the cradle harness.
And suddenly the waiting was over. The ship filled with vibration as
Guns opened up. Twenty-five seconds to target. His eyes flicked from
the sightscreen to the sky ahead, looking for the telltale flare of
rockets--ready to follow like a ferret.
There he is! At eighteen miles from target, a tiny blue light flickered
ahead. He forgot everything but the sightscreen, concentrating on
keeping the pip dead center. The guns hammered on. It seemed they'd
been firing for centuries. At ten-mile range, the combat radar kicked the
automatics in, turning the ship ninety degrees to her course in one and a
half seconds. He heard the lee side firing cut out, as Garrity hung on
with two, then three guns.
He held it as long as he could. Closer than he ever had before. At four
miles he poured 12 G's for two seconds.
They missed ramming by something around a hundred yards. The
enemy ship flashed across his tail in a fraction of a second, already
turned around and heading up its own track, yet it seemed to Paul he
could make out every detail--the bright red star, even the tortured face
of the pilot. Was there something lopsided in the shape of that rocket
plume, or was he just imagining it in the blur of their passing? And did
he hear a ping just at that instant, feel the ship vibrate for a second?
He continued the turn in the direction the automatics had started,
bringing his nose around to watch the enemy's track. And as the shape
of the plume told him the other ship was still heading back toward
Earth, he brought the throttle back up to 12 G's, trying to overcome the
lead his pass had given away.
Guns spoke quietly to Johnson. "Let me know when we kill his RV. Ah
may get another shot at him."
And Johnny answered, hurt, "What do you think I'm doing down
here--reading one of your magazines?"
Paul was struggling with hundred-pound arms, trying to focus the
telescope that swiveled over the panel. As the field cleared, he could
see that the plume was flaring unevenly, flickering red and orange
along one side. Quietly and viciously, he was talking to himself. "Blow!
Blow!"
* * * * *
And she blew. Like a dirty ragged bit of fireworks, throwing tiny
handfuls of sparks into the blackness. Something glowed red for a
while, and slowly faded.
There, but for the grace of God.... Paul shuddered in a confused
mixture of relief and revulsion.
He cut back to 4 G's, noting that RVS registered about a mile per
second away from station, and suddenly became aware that the red
light was on for loss of air. The cabin pressure gauge read zero, and his
heart throbbed into his throat as he remembered that pinging sound, just
as they passed the enemy ship. He told Garrity to see if he could locate
the loss, and any other damage, and was shortly startled by a low
amazed whistle in his earphones.
"If Ah wasn't lookin' at it, Ah wouldn't believe it. Musta been one of his
shells went right around the fuel tank and out again, without hittin' it.
There's at least three inches of tank on a line between the holes! He
musta been throwin' curves at us. Man, cap'n, this is our lucky day!"
[Illustration]
Paul felt no surprise, only relief at having the trouble located. The
reaction to the close call might not come till hours later. "This kind of
luck we can do without. Can you patch the holes?"
"Ah can patch the one where it came in, but it musta been explodin' on
the way out. There's a hole Ah could stick mah head through."
"That's a good
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