The searing line of at least one blaster reached after them—too slowly, too low. He heard Hume grunt, and they again leaped higher. Then the Hunter spoke:
"Half an hour at the most—"
"The safari camp?
"Yes."
They no longer climbed. The flitter was boring forwards on a projectile flight, into the dark of the night.
"What're those?" Vye suddenly leaned forward.
Had some of the stars across the space void broken free from their fixed orbits? Flecks of light, moving in an arc, headed towards the speeding flitter.
Hume hit a button. Again they arose in a violent leap above those wandering lights. But ahead on this new level more such dots flocked, moving fast to close in on the flyer.
"A straight ram course," Hume muttered, more to himself than Vye.
Again the flyer drove forward in a rising thrust of speed. Then the smooth purr of the propulsion unit faltered, broke into protesting coughs. Hume worked over the controls, beads of sweat showing on his forehead and cheek in the gleam of the cabin light.