Then monstrous, incredible masses of flame and steam burst from the bottom of the rotund space-ship. It lifted, slowly at first, but then more and more swiftly. It climbed to the sky. It became a speck, and then a mote at the crawling end of a trail of opaque white emergency-rocket fumes. Then it vanished.
Far out in space, there was an explosion brighter than the sun, and then a second and a third. There was a cloud of incandescent metal vapor. Presently a missile found its target-seeking microwaves reflected by the ionized metal steam. It plunged into collision with that glowing stuff. It exploded. Two or three more exploded, like the first. Others burned harmlessly.
A voice said, "Cargo-ship reporting. Clear of ground. Everything going well. No casualties."
"Report again when in clear space," said Bors.
He waited. Several long minutes later a second report came.
"Cargo-ship reporting. In clear space."
"Very good work!" said Bors. "You know where to go now. Go ahead!"
"Yes, sir," said the voice from space. Then it asked apologetically, "You got the battleship, sir?"
The voice from space sounded as if the man who spoke were grinning.