He pulled out of the dive not fifty feet from the tops of the buildings, zoomed away again with the planes hot on his tail. They'd followed him down, were streaming after him like a swarm of hornets.
For the next ten minutes those below witnessed the weirdest dog fight in all flying history. There wasn't room to make a running battle of it. It was dive, zoom, streak from one end of the cave to the other like hawks fighting in a cage. Ricker twisted into every contortion his straining jets allowed. And still those ships closed in relentlessly, often striking one of their own number—which closeness of battle was Ricker's only ally. The ships closed in slowly, inexorably formed a ring of murderous heat around him.
It was a losing fight. Ricker knew it. He couldn't elude them forever. One well-timed blast and he'd go down in a swirl of ashes and smoke. And his constant fighting the controls to avoid the ships, to avoid crashing the walls and the roof, was wearing his arms to dead aching weights.
The ships tried strategy. They divided, Ricker saw, into five groups, waited for him at each corner of the chamber while the others gave chase. And these groups closed in with each wild dive he made.
Soon they would have him trapped between them. Well, the game was about up. It was a matter of minutes now. He might as well do as much damage as he could before they got him.
He banked over in a last dive, hoping only that the Patrol got in before the ships saw them. Even the Patrol wouldn't have much chance against these weapons. As he went over, saw the floor of the cave revolve around like a side wall, a streak of lightning struck the tail of his ship with an impact that jarred every rivet. The ship went crazy, spun down like a shot bird.
Ricker hit the wheel with all the failing strength of his arms. More by will power than anything else, he pulled out into a shaky glide. But try as he might there was no response from the elevator jets. He couldn't rise again. The ships fell like stones upon him for the kill.
Below, looming rapidly in the windows, he saw the long line of buildings, the thick circle of ships resting on the field. He fired full-blast as he passed over them. Buildings burst, split into halves as if an earthquake had struck them. Ships disappeared in a wide swath under him, hundreds went up in smoke.
The field fled beneath him, a deep smoldering trench following his flaming guns. The house across the field and the silver dome loomed up, raced toward him with the speed of a locomotive.
"The power plant!" Ricker suddenly yelled it at the top of his voice. If he could crash that—!