The man wore the insignia of an
officer.
The remaining snapper-boats were going to make it. Santos threw rockets
among them and scored hits, but the boats kept coming. The Connies were
too far away from the cruiser to return, and they knew it. Getting to the
asteroid was their only chance.
Rip called, "Santos! Cease fire. Set the launcher for ground level. Let
them land, but don't fire until I give the word."
He put his helmet against his prisoner's for direct communication. "You
speak English?"
The man shouted back, "Yes."
"Good. We're going to let your friends land. As soon as they do, I want
you to yell to them. Say we have assault rockets trained on them. Tell
them to surrender, or they'll be killed in their tracks. Got that?"
The Connie replied, "Suppose I refuse?"
Rip put his space knife against the man's stomach. "Then we'll get them
with rockets. But you won't care, because you won't know it."
The truth was that Santos couldn't hope to get them all with his rockets.
They might overcome the Connies in hand-to-hand fighting, but there would
be a cost to pay in Planeteer casualties. Rip hoped the Connie wouldn't
call his bluff, because that's all it was. He couldn't use a space knife
on an unarmed prisoner.
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