er had gone away far enough to make a turn.
It had straightened out, heading right for them. Now the nose tube was
blasting, slowing the cruiser down.

He sighted, holding out one glove and gauging the Connie's distance above
the horizon, and his heart speeded. The Connie was right on the horizon!

"Ram it!" Rip called. "Around the asteroid. Quick!"

Acceleration jammed him back against his men as Dowst blasted. No sooner
had he recovered than acceleration in a different direction shoved him up
to the ceiling so hard that his bubble rang. He clawed his way to the
window as the Connie cruiser flashed by, bathing the asteroid in glowing
flame.

There was a chorus of gasps from the men, as they saw the thing Rip had
realized a moment before. The Consops cruiser was playing it safe, using
its rocket exhaust as a great blowtorch to burn the surface of the
asteroid clean!

The sheer inhumanity of the thing made Rip's stomach tighten into a knot.
No asking for surrender, no taking of prisoners. Not even a clean fight.
The Connie was doing its arguing with fire, knowing that the exhaust would
char every man on the asteroid's surface.

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."