Then, unseen against the glare—he was but a small mote against a sea of blinding violet—Black Morgan took off.
A-space, the glare died out. It was an atmosphere-ionization, and by the time there was no atmosphere, Black Morgan was safe.
At turnover, the ship was hailed, as before. Black Morgan entered the ship as he had done many times, looted the passengers and the vault, made mocking jokes, and left. The ship went on, its passengers and crew cowed and beaten.
Black Morgan laughed uproariously.
Again!
He exulted, and feeling certain of his future, Black Morgan waited patiently. An hour—two—and then he was off toward Terra, laughing and plotting more piracy.
Then his alarm rang. Morgan blinked. A meteor—but no meteor ever rang the drive detector. That took energy output!
Morgan snarled and looked out of his port.
And there he saw a sight that terrified him. Through his mind passed the recollection of all the thousands that had seen a similar sight, though the markings were different. Instead of the chromium and black pirate craft, there rode a quiet Guardship, big and potent. Morgan was outgunned, for three solid turrets of three rifles each covered his smaller ship in an inevadable bracket of heavy fire. Resistance was impossible; he could not even fight like a cornered rat. He was forced, if anything, to suicide. Ignominious suicide, for there would not even be the chance to go out fighting.
The space door opened to admit a single man, clad in the uniform of the Solar Guard.