But it only lasted for a moment. Free of the sphere-ship, the carrier sped out into space along the path slashed by the two before it. Behind it, the hurtling mother-globe was already fading, as it raced on across Saturn's orbit towards Uranus. Down, down the carriers lanced, straight for Hyperion's ice-masked surface ... closer and closer, faster and faster. Then, while Boone held his breath, the first struck. A flash of fire; a vast exploding cataclysm. Ice spraying out like splattering water.... Before the cloud of icy splinters could even settle, the second carrier crashed home. New jets of spray leaped skyward. Great cracks appeared, from here a tracery of fine, shimmering lines against the satellite's frigid surface. Boone slowed the third carrier till it hung almost motionless. Taut-nerved, he waited. Slowly, the drifting blast-cloud cleared. A pit yawned in the ice. With wary patience, Boone dropped the carrier closer to the surface ... hovered momentarily above the pit-edge. Color flashed in the depths--the color of flower-fields, of verdure. Of a sudden the jagged ice-claws didn't matter. Boone zoomed the carrier in a great loop, then dived it back again straight for the pit, the color. Death's own tension rode with them. Once Boone thought he could hear the echo of a choked-off prayer. Then the pit's ice-walls were closing around them. The target below seemed so very tiny.... The carrier struck ice, an out-thrust fragment. A shudder ran through its strain-racked structure. Veering, it crashed into the razor shards along the lower lip of the hole. The impact flung Boone savagely against his belt. His head snapped back so hard that for a moment he thought his neck was broken. Behind him, through the scream of torn and tortured metal, a man shouted shrilly. Then the carrier was falling. Barely in time, Boone caught the globe-control and spun it. * * * * * End for end, the carrier flipped over in the air. Swinging like a pendulum by its nose, it settled to earth with a jarring shock that would have torn the ramping-fins from a craft less sturdy. Boone sagged in his seat. Then, rallying, he peered upward. Ice still was falling. Apparently the force of the carrier's down-thrust--coupled with the earlier blasts--had shaled off great chunks of the ice-shell's under-surface. As for the ship and the others--Boone loosed his belt; scrambled round to see. The blond giant already was bending over another crewman. Boone stiffened. "Is it bad?" The other straightened, shook his head. "I don't think so. He's just out cold; I think he hit his head on something." "Good." Boone breathed again. "I think I'll chance an all-clear to the sphere-ship." Turning to the visiscreen, he twisted dials, pressed buttons. Dimly at first, the mother-craft appeared, far out in space. Only then, while he watched, another sphere swept across the shining panel, followed by yet another and another. Cartel ships.