Grantline laughed grimly. "Maybe so, Waters. But let's hope not."
Fat little Waters was anything but a coward, but being closed up here all these hours with a stream of dire messages from Earth had shaken him.
"What I mean, Mr. Grantline, is that prudence is sometimes better than reckless valor. The Cometara is no warship. If Earth had sent an international patrol vessel...."
Grantline did not answer. He joined me at the Benson projector. "Can we operate it from here, Gregg, or will you mount it in the bow?"
"From here. Drac's swinging. When he's on the course I gave him, I can throw the Benson-ray through the bow dome-port. Waters, you're all done in. Go below and sleep awhile."
But he stood his ground. "No, sir; I don't want to sleep."
"We've had ours," said Grantline. "We'll call you if anything shows up."
We sent Waters away. "Ready, Gregg?"
"Yes. I've got the range."
The coils hummed and heated with the current, and in a moment the Benson curve-beam leaped from the projector.