The Connie officer nodded. "Turn up my communicator."
Rip turned it on full, and the Connie barked quick instructions. The exhausts died and five men filed out of each boat with hands held high. Rip blew a drop of perspiration from the tip of his nose. Empty space! It was a good thing Connie morale was bad. The enemy's willingness to surrender had saved them a costly fight.
The Planeteers rounded up the prisoners and secured them while Rip took an anxious look at the communicator. It was about time he heard from Terra base.
The light was glowing. For all he knew, it might have been glowing for many minutes. He plugged into the circuit.
"This is Foster on the asteroid."
"Terra base to Foster. Listen, you will reach optimum position on the time-distance curve at twenty-three-oh-six.[pg 191] Repeat back, twenty-three-oh-six."
"Got it. We will reach optimum position at twenty-three-oh-six." He looked at his chronometer and his pulse stopped. It was 2258! They had just eight minutes before the sun caught them forever, atomic blast or no!
And the Connie cruiser was still overhead, with no friendly cruisers in sight. He looked up, white-faced. Not only was the Connie still there, but its main air lock was sliding open to disclose a new danger.
In the opening, ready to launch, an assault boat waited. The assault boats were something only the Connies used. They were about four times the size of a snapper-boat, less maneuverable but more powerful. They carried 20 men and a pair of guided missiles with atomic warheads!