"Pilot! Vortex at fourteen—seven ten!"
Leoniad creaked. Ponderously, it swapped ends. A seam split, and the intercom became hoarse with the shrill of escaping air and the cries of the repair crew. An alarm rang loud, which stopped when the split seam was plastered. Acceleration took hold, and the men were nailed to their places. The generator alarm pealed, indicating dangerous overload. More plates creaked as the drivers took the power and strained against the mass and inertia of the Leoniad.
"Not enough!"
The turrets of the Leoniad whipped around and the sub-ship was blasted in a vast, expanding flare.
But its work was done. Though the drivers, straining their best, were fighting the Leoniad into velocity, there was too little time. The vortex caught up with the Leoniad, passed upward from base to top, and went on to die in the remoteness of space.
The breakers blew, the fuses sputtered, and Leoniad went inert.
She coasted away from the Martian at much less than one mile per second.
Maynard bumped gently into the wall of his scanning room and the pain wakened him. Dazedly, he passed a hand over his face, and the movement turned him over in midair. He clutched foolishly at the wall, and then waited until he found a handhold. He handed himself to the floor of the room, and sought the desk.
Forcing himself into the seat, Guy snapped the safety belt and then reached for the communicator.