Rip whirled. The Connie who had stepped aside was advancing, pistol in hand. His light caught Rip[pg 133] full in the face.
The young officer thought quickly. The Connie hadn't fired. Why? Suddenly he had it. The man hadn't fired for fear of hitting his friend, who was battling with Dowst. Rip was in front of them. Quickly he dropped to one knee, reaching for his own pistol. The Connie wouldn't dare fire now. The high velocity slug would go right through him, to explode in one of the struggling figures behind—and the wrong one might get it.
The Connie saw Rip's action and tossed his pistol aside. He, too, knew he couldn't fire. He reached into a knee pouch and drew out his space knife. He leaped for the Planeteer.
Rip pulled frantically at his pistol. It was stuck fast, probably caught in the fabric by his knee landing. The space knife wouldn't be caught. It was smooth, with no projections to catch. He shifted knees and jerked it out.
The Connie's flying body hit him, and a powerful arm circled his waist. Rip thrust upward with his knees, one hand reaching for the Connie's suit valve. But the Connie had one arm free, too. He drove his glove up under Rip's heart. Rip let go of the valve and used his elbow to lever away just as the Connie pressed his knife's release valve. The blade slammed outward, drove into the inside of Rip's right arm just above the elbow.
Pain lanced through him, and he felt the blood[pg 134] rush to the wound as air poured through the gap in his suit. He gritted his teeth and smashed at the Connie with his own knife. It rammed home and he squeezed the release. The blade connected solidly. He was suddenly free.
He pressed the wounded arm to his side, stopping the outpouring of air. The cut hurt like all the devils of space. With his other hand he increased the air in his suit, then looked swiftly around. The Connie was on his knees, both gloves pressed tightly to his side.
Dowst was just finishing a knot in the safety line that bound a second enemy's hands. The Connie Rip had rocketed down on was still lying where he had fallen. And Corporal Santos, the enemy's pneumatic chattergun at the ready, was standing guard.
Rip turned up the volume in his communicator. He tried to sound calm, but the shakiness of triumph and excitement was in his voice. "All Planeteers. We have the Connie snapper-boats. Koa, bring your men here."
He felt someone working on his arm and turned to see Corporal Pederson, his face one vast grin in the glare from Dowst's belt light. "Koa didn't need me," he said.