Three snapper-boats remained. Rip watched, holding 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 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. 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!