Major Hamacher said softly: "I wonder what kind of metal that ship is made of?"
"Yeah," said MacIlheny, "I wonder."
It was a good question. The steel hull of the Number Four had crumpled and torn like cardboard around the hole where the impact of the ship had melted and volatalized the metal. But the hull of the alien spaceship wasn't even dented.
"What now?" asked the major.
"Take the RJ-37 in carefully, and lock on with magnetic grapples," MacIlheny ordered.
Blake glanced at him. "What if the pilot or crew of that ship is still alive?"
"They probably are," MacIlheny said. "But we've got an H-bomb in our ship; if they try anything funny...."
"What makes you think they're alive?" the major asked as he eased the ship in.
"Somebody set off the atom jets when Number Four approached perigee," MacIlheny reminded him.
The RJ-37 approached Number Four closely, then the magnetic grapples were turned on, and the ship stuck to the hull of the battered space station with a metallic clank. The RJ-37 was only a few yards from the edge of the gaping hole that had been torn in the hull of the satellite. In front of them loomed the queer blue shaft of the alien ship.