He kissed her, and with fury-steadied fingers tuned in the communication-plate. Rob Torren grinned furiously at him.
"I thought I'd let you know what's happening," said Torren in a voice that was furry with whipped-up rage. "I'm going to go back and report that you were killed resisting arrest. I'm going to melt down the yacht until it could never be identified as the Erebus—if anybody ever sees it again! And—maybe you'll enjoy knowing that I did the things I charged you with, and have the proceeds safely banked away! I faked the evidence that proved it on you. And I hoped to have Esther, too, but she's spoiled that by trying to come and help you! Now—"
"Now," said Stan coldly, "you'll stand off a good twenty miles and beam us. You'll take no chances that we might be able to throw a handful of sand at you! You'll be so damned cautious that you won't even come close to see your success with your own eyes! You'll read it off on instruments! You're pretty much afraid of me!"
"Afraid?" raged Rob Torren. "You'll see!"
The communication screen went blank. Stan leaped to the meteor-repeller controls and stared at the vertical vision-plate which showed all the sky above.
"Not the shadow of a chance," he said coldly, "but a beam does make a little glow! If he misses us once—but he won't—maybe I can get in one blast...."
There was tense silence. Deadly silence. The screen overhead showed a multitude of cold, unwinking stars. One of them winked out and on again.
"I'll try—" began Stan.
Then the screen seemed to explode into light. Something flared like a nova in the sky. Intolerable brilliance filled a quarter of the screen—and faded. Swiftly. It went out.
Stan drew a deep breath.