A click. Bors heard heavy materials being loaded aboard. Each object was being examined by a detector. The loading process stopped. Bors pressed a button.
"What happened?" he demanded.
"Looks like a booby-trapped box, sir," said a voice. "Among the supplies, sir."
"Take it off a hundred yards and riddle it," ordered Bors. "This may settle a problem for us."
Bors fidgeted again. A messenger from the grid-control building arrived. He had a map of the capital city of Tralee.
There was an explosion. A violent one. Bors looked out a port and saw where the suspected parcel had been set up as a target a hundred yards from the ship. It had been riddled with blast-rifle bolts, and had exploded. It might not have destroyed the Isis if it had exploded in space, but it would not have done it any good.
Bors pushed the button for the loading-port compartment.
"Throw out all the stuff loaded so far," he commanded. "Some of it may be booby-trapped like that last one. We won't take a chance. Heave it all out again."
"Yes, sir."