Downing's ship hit the gout of flaming gas, and the velocity of ship was high. It deflected upward slightly, bending the spine of the little fleeter, rending a few plates, and dazing the Martian.
Lane's ship hit the flaming gas—which was almost homogenous where Lane passed through. The Venusite's nose plates dinged in slightly from the metal-to-gas impact. Right into the hit went Cliff Lane.
And out through the scar on the far side went the Venusite, roaring off in a halo of gases from the explosion.
They snapped radio sets.
"Well?" grinned Cliff saucily.
"Wise, aren't you?" grunted Downing.
"Try it again," advised Cliff. "I'm still spaceworthy."
"I'm buckled, but still capable," snorted Downing. "I'll be around—"
The ringing of the emergency alarm interrupted them. Thompson's voice came through. "Stop—at once!"