The tremendous speed of the dive had brought them so close that all could see, without the aid of binoculars, the great skeletons of wrecked ships piled up at the base of the precipice. "Tell those rats to go to hell," snapped Holden, "and get in touch with our own ships; use code and tell them to get here as quickly as possible, prepared for a fight. Get near enough to this pirate ship to open on it with the _hexoxen_ guns. Can you keep them from ramming us, Edwards?" "I think so, for a time, at least." The enemy's craft was now only a few hundred yards away, and Holden scrutinized it closely for any sign that might give a clue to the original builders or present owners. Not over a hundred and fifty feet in length, with no visible openings, it looked like a slightly fattened steel needle. Its stern tubes were of the ordinary type; they glowed red against the silvery background, as the enemy swooped and circled, trying to get into position for a final, crushing blow. "Every man in space suits," Holden ordered. "Good work, Linet," he cried, as he saw a sudden pock-mark appear in the pirate's side, where the devastating _hexoxen_ bullet had struck. "They've certainly got thick plates," remarked the Captain, as another direct hit failed to do more than scratch the metal. "Probably heavier up in front, if they mean what they say about ramming. I'm going to concentrate on the stern." The dull red surface of the moon, the black walls of the crater, and the twinkling stars of outer space mingled in a fantastic whirl as Edwards skilfully kept the _San Francisco_ out of the enemy's reach, at the same time giving Linet and the men in the observation compartment sufficient opportunity to train their guns on vital spots. It was a hopeless game, though, for the smaller ship was incredibly fast. Erickson straightened up from his position behind the operator of the space-phone. "We can't make any connections with either the _Ganymede_ or the _Los Angeles_. Probably these pirates have developed a shield which, thrown around their victims, prevents any message from getting to the outside." That looked bad. Erickson switched the receiver back to the wave-length of the enemy. A continual stream of taunts and threats came from the loudspeaker. "Why don't you surrender?" the gruff voice barked. "You haven't a chance against us, but if you surrender you may be allowed to work with us, for your own benefit as well as ours." "Go to hell," the formerly meek Erickson roared into the transmitter, surprised at his own rage. Then finally, with a desperate dash, the tiny pirate ship darted in. Edwards did his best to swerve away from the needle-point, but in vain. There was a shattering crash; Holden felt himself hurled through the air, but his heavy space-suit saved him from being crushed as he hit the wall of the room. Edwards stayed with the controls, somehow, cursing savagely.