The Planeteers watched as the Connie sped away, blasted with its side jets and turned to come back. Dowst tensed over the controls, trying to anticipate the next move. He touched the firing levers delicately, letting out just enough flame to maneuver. He slid the craft over the asteroid’s surface to the side away from the Connie, going slowly enough so they could watch the enemy’s every move. "Here he comes," Rip snapped, and braced for acceleration. The landing craft shot to safety as the cruiser’s nose jet flamed. Dowst was just in time. Tiny sparks from the edge of the fiery column brushed past the boat. Rip realized that the Connie couldn’t know the Federation men were in a boat, dodging. The cruiser would make about two more runs, just enough to allow for hitting every bit of the asteroid. Then it would assume that anything on it was finished and send a landing party. "He’ll be back," he stated. "About twice more. Three at most." He suddenly remembered the landing boat radio. "Dowst, where is the radio connection?" The pilot handed him a wire with a jack plug on the end of it. Rip plugged it into his belt. Now his voice would be heard on the _Scorpius_. "Calling _Scorpius_! Calling _Scorpius_! Foster reporting. We are under attack. Repeat, we are under attack. Over to you." The answer rang in his helmet. "_Scorpius_ to Foster. Hold ’em, Planeteers. We’re on our way!" "Here comes the Connie," Koa yelled. Rip braced. The landing boat shot forward, then piled the Planeteers in a heap on the bottom as Dowst accelerated upward. There was a sudden wrenching crash that sent the Planeteers in a jumbled mass into the front of the boat. It whirled crazily, then stopped. Rip was not hurt. He shoved at someone whose bubble was in his stomach and cleared the way. "Turn on belt lights," he called. "Quick!" Lights flared on. He searched quickly, swinging his light. The Planeteers were getting to their feet. His light focused on Private Bradshaw and he gasped. Bradshaw’s face was scarlet, and his skin was flecked with drops of blood. His eyes were closed, and bulging terribly. Rip jumped forward, but big Koa was even faster. The Hawaiian jerked a repair strip from a belt pouch, slapped it on the crack in Bradshaw’s bubble. Rip wasted no time, either. By the time Koa had the strip in place he had pulled the connections from his belt light. He ran the tips of the wires over the edges of the strip. The current sealed the patch in place instantly. Koa grabbed the atmosphere control on Bradshaw’s belt and turned it. The suit puffed up. Rip watched the repair anxiously in the light from Koa’s belt. It held. Rip reconnected his light as he asked swiftly, "Anyone else hurt? Answer by name." There were quick replies; No one else had been injured. "Run for the cave," Rip commanded. "Follow Koa. Santos and Pederson drag Bradshaw." The Englishman’s voice sounded bubbly. "I can make it."