We dived again, spraying the roofless barracks with destruction, blasting huge craters in their machine shop, starting explosions of ammunition that rocked our ship, threatening to blow off the dome in one piece.
At last the fun ended. "Only one missile left," Naomi warned.
"Hang on, then," I said gaily, stabbing the rocket controls. "Callisto girls are homeward bound!"
Blam! went our torpedo, tearing a second hole in the mangled airlock. And out that hole we went, accelerating like crazy, pursued into deep space by the entire enemy fleet.
As long as we were chased, and missile fragments rattled against our hull, we continued in high spirits. Even when the boys scored a hit that forced us to don our space suits, we remained elated. But the minute the Ios broke-off pursuit we renewed our antagonism.
"Say," said Naomi over her helmet phone, "this isn't the right course for Callisto."
"No, dear, I'm landing on Ganymede first. I don't think it's safe to go on until we get that fuel leak fixed."
"Why should we pay good money to a mechanic when our own girls can do the job?"
"We'd never reach Callisto. You don't realize how dense the fumes are in this cabin. We could explode just like that." I tried futilely to snap my clumsy spacesuit fingers.