A movement in the viewplate stilled the cry that had formed in his throat. The strange devices—there was a bluish-white flash, and the viewscreen was suddenly white with a ball of coruscating brilliance. Short....
Had to blast-off—but the kids, not braced on the cat-walks.... Still clambering, maybe only half-way up....
Another streak, but no flash. Over. They were bracketing.
The next one, whatever it was, the next one would be a bulls-eye.
With all his voice he bellowed "HANG ON!" even as Mike and Terry burst, breathless, into the control room.
His finger hesitated only a moment. And then he jammed the bottom button in and his knees bent, but they held.
And in the corner of his eye he saw the blue-white flash erupt dead-center below.
He eased the button pressure and hovered, out of range.
In a moment Gundar Tayne's craft would be in the air. Then....
"Kids—kids, you O.K.?" He locked the ship in its hover and then he was beside them, scanning their half-naked, bruised bodies in quick glances, then holding them to him with all the strength of both arms.