"Listen, Kid!" roared Coxine. "You said you're a good shot. Right now is the time to prove it. Blast away her audio antenna!"
Tom gulped. At a range of fifty thousand yards, the antenna, a thick piece of steel cable, might as well have been a needle to hit.
"Right, skipper," he finally replied. "I'll show you some of the fanciest shooting you'll ever see in your life!"
He turned back to the range finder, his mind racing like a calculating machine. He figured the angles of the two ships, considering that the jet liner was a dead ship in space and the Avenger still under way, but slowing down at a specific rate of deceleration. He rechecked his figure a third and fourth time, correcting his calculations each time with the forward movement of the Avenger. If he misjudged a fraction of a degree, he might kill or injure hundreds of people aboard the passenger vessel.
"Well?" roared Coxine. "Are you going to fire or not?"
"Coming right up, skipper!" shouted Tom. "Watch this!"