"O.K. with me," said Loring. "Take this wagon up toward Alpha Centauri a little way. Coming out of the sun, they won't see us. We'll use one of the jet boats to deliver our little present. I'll set the fuse, put the jet boat on automatic, and aim it right for the Polaris."
"All right," agreed Manning reluctantly. He turned to the chart table, plotted a course, and issued orders to Shinny at the controls and to Mason on the power deck. Soon the Space Devil was blasting away from the night side of the planet, heading toward the sun. When they reached an altitude of a thousand miles above the surface of the planet, Loring maneuvered the jet boat into position outside the ship and placed the crude reactant bomb inside. Ready, he gave Roger the signal to make the run out of the sun toward the Polaris. Roger relayed the orders to Shinny and Mason, and the Space Devil rocketed back toward the planet again.
Loring, sitting inside the jet boat, waited until they had reached an altitude of five hundred miles.
"All right, Manning," said Loring, "give me the course!"
Roger calculated the rotational speed of the planet, the Space Devil's altitude, and the speed of the jet boat. He drew a line between the Space Devil and Polaris, checked it on the astro compass, and reached for the intercom mike. He ran a dry tongue over his lips and called out the course.
"Course is one forty-three—" He caught himself and stared at the chart. Suppose Tom or Astro or anyone was near the ship? Even if he missed by several hundred yards, the bomb would certainly be fatal. If he only changed the course one degree, at a range of five hundred miles, it would miss the Polaris by several miles. And Loring wouldn't be able to see anything because of the dust cloud.
"Course corrected," said Roger. "New course is one forty-two!"
"One forty-two!" repeated Loring.
Roger sat back and waited for the small space craft to blast off from the ship. In his mind, he saw Loring setting the trigger on the bomb, adjusting the controls, setting the automatic pilot, and then pressing the acceleration button. Roger gripped the sides of the chart table and stared at the radar scanner. A fast-moving blip was streaking across its surface. Loring had started the jet boat.
His eyes showing his great fear, Roger watched the blip as it sped down like a maddened hornet toward the Polaris resting on its directional fins in the green jungle. He could hear the hatch slam closed below as Loring re-entered the ship, but he continued to watch the rapidly moving blip.