ematics would have been simple under normal conditions, but doing
them on the run, trying to watch his step at the same time, made things a
little complicated. He had to hold the board under his arm, run alongside
Santos while the new sergeant held the case open, select the book he
wanted, open it and try to read the tables by his belt light and then
transfer the data to the board.

His ventilator had quieted down once he got into the darkness, but now it
started whining slightly again because he was sweating profusely. Finally
he figured out the thrust needed to stop the spin. Now all he had to do
was compute how much fuel it would take.

He had figures on the amount of thrust given by the kind of rocket fuel in
the tubes. He also knew how much fuel each tube contained. But the figures
were not in his head. They were on reference sheets.

He collected the data on the fly, slowing down now and then to read
something, until a yell from Santos or Koa warned that the sun line was
creeping close. When he had all data noted on the board, he started his
mathematics. He was right in the middle of a laborious equation when he
stumbled over a thorium crystal. He went headlong, shooting like a rocket
three feet above the ground. His board flew away at a tangent. His stylus
sped out of his glove like a miniature projectile, and the slide rule
clanged against his bubble.

It happened so fast neither Koa nor Santos had time to grab him. The
action had given him extra speed and he saw with horror that he was going
to crash into Trudeau. He yelled, "Frenchy! Watch out!" Then put both
hands before him to protect his helmet. His hands caught the French
Planeteer between the shoulders with a bone-jarring thud.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - THE ARCHER AND THE EAGLE

Trudeau held tight to the launcher, but the rocket racks opened and
spilled attack rockets into space. They flew in a dozen different
directions. Trudeau gave vent to his feelings in colorful French.

Koa and Santos laughed so hard they had trouble collecting the scattered
equipment. Rip, slowed by his crash with Trudeau, got his feet under him
again.

The asteroid had turned into the sun before they collected everything but
Rip's stylus and five attack rockets. The space-pencil was the only thing
that could write on the computing board. It had to be found.

"Next time around," Rip called to the others, and led the way full speed
ahead until they regained the safety