The two boats that had crashed
while trying to dodge were blasting in great spurts of flame, following
the example of their damaged companion.
"Seven left," Rip called, and another rocket flashed on its way. He
followed its trail as it curved away from the asteroid and into the
squadron. Its proximity fuse detonated in the exhaust of a Connie boat,
blowing the tube out of position. The boat yawed wildly, cut its stern
tubes, and blasted to a stop from the bow tube. Then it, too, started
backward toward the cruiser. Six left!
Flame blossomed a few yards from Rip. He was picked up bodily and flung
into space, whirling end over end. Koa's voice rang in his helmet.
"Watch it! They're firing back!"
Rip tugged frantically at an air bottle in his belt. He pulled it out and
used it to whirl him upright again; then its air blast drove him back to
the surface of the asteroid. Sweat poured from his forehead, and the suit
ventilator whined as it picked up the extra moisture. Great Cosmos! That
was close!
Santos fired again, twice, in rapid succession. The Connie snapper-boats
scattered as the proximity fuses produced flowers of fire among them. Two
near misses, but they threw the enemy off course.
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