Lane's ship turned and dropped.
The action was too fast for the Solarian crew, and he left them far behind. But the catmen were right with him all the way.
"Cut it," said Lane in a tired voice. "Let 'em play. Save our strength for later when we can do something."
They went inert. No drive, no sign of fight, no objection.
A side-force hit them, slapping the ship sidewise about fifty feet. It jarred the ship's delicate mechanisms into a short fluster of unreal alarms and ringing signals, but the sturdy stuff was not permanently damaged.
Still no response from Cliff's ship.
They poked him down brutally with a pressor and then jerked him back up again.
More alarms and more nosebleed among the crew.
They caught the ship in force-zones and played catch with it from one catman to the other, poking and thrusting. They ripped off one of the turrets with the snatcher.
Then they stopped. And they waited. Quietly they hung above Lane's ship, watching, watching, watching.