Mannion called, “Captain, my receivers blew. I think every tube in the shack exploded!”
I jumped to the direct viewer. The alien hung there, turning away from us in a leisurely curve. There was no sign of whatever had blown us off the air. I held my key, but didn’t press it. I told Clay to take Miller down to Medic. He was moaning and in severe pain.
Kramer reported in from the cargo deck. The cannister was inside now, coating up with frost. I told him to wait, then sent Chilcote, my demolition man, in to open it. Maybe it was booby-trapped. I stood by at the DVP and waited for other signs of Mancjo power to hit us. The general feeling was tense.
Apparently they were satisfied with one blast of whatever it was; they were dwindling away with no further signs of life.
After half an hour of tense alertness, I ordered the missiles disarmed.
I keyed for General. “Men, this is the Captain,” I said. “It looks as though our first contact with an alien race has been successfully completed. He is now at a distance of three hundred and moving off fast. Our screens are blown, but there’s no real damage. And we have a supply of fresh food aboard; now let’s get back to business. That colony can’t be far off.”
That may have been rushing it some, but if the food supply we’d gotten was a dud, we were finished anyway.
We watched the direct-view screen till the ship was lost; then followed on radar.
“It’s moving right along, Captain,” Joyce said, “accelerating at about two gee’s.”
“Good riddance,” Clay said. “I don’t like dealing with armed maniacs.”