Haggard's strategy had been to get in line with the sun and keep in line with it while he rushed down on the unsuspecting salvage ship. Reports were crackling in from all parts of the ship regarding the damage done. Nothing had been touched, it seemed, except one of the forward scout carriers, which was blasted loose.
Larry was tensely vigilant as he crouched over the firing lever. He did not glance at Carlyle. The salvage boss' face seemed to have set into grimmer lines than ever. Up ahead the Martian was fighting to keep out of line. Haggard's poor shot had put them in the disadvantage.
Carlyle piloted like a demon, straining the ship until the bulkheads chattered in their steps. Haggard's slightest error meant the gap between them closed that much more. Suddenly something seemed to go wrong. The Martian faltered for a tenth of a second. In the next moment Thaddeus Carlyle swerved until the pirate's rocket tubes were straight before them.
"Fire!" he clipped.
Larry pulled swiftly at the lever. There was no response. Harder, he tugged.
"I said fire!" Carlyle shouted at him. "I can't hold this point any longer. They're under way again."
Sweat started from Larry's pores. "The thing's jammed, Chief!" he groaned. "They got our gun with that first shot."
Carlyle seemed to wilt a little. What it meant was that they were up against a fast, armed vessel with no means of defending themselves. As if Brand Haggard sensed the trouble, too, he put the Martian about and came booming down the line at them, head-on.
Carlyle's response was slow. The ship heaved violently as a rear stabilizer melted under Haggard's shot. Only the fact that the shock threw them away from the pirate's line of fire saved them.
Now it was the Friar Bacon that dodged and ran. The air boiled all about them. Larry could envision Haggard's grinning, savage countenance hovering over the firing lever, ceaselessly yanking at it.