Back in the shadow again. Not really shadow where he sat, but the rim around him, below him, and curving away from him, had disappeared in its brief nightside, and there came Hot Rod again. Carefully he tracked it; then putting his eye to the scope he focused briefly on one of the high-pressure supporting tubes that formed the rigid structure from which the aiming mirror was held in place.
And fired.
The tube burst, noiselessly but quite spectacularly. And the mirror itself shuddered shook, as the tube's gases escaped.
Now he was in bright sunlight again, quickly closing his eyes as the sun itself looked full into his vision, and slowly passed to be following by Earth, to be followed by a blank stretch of starry space, and here again was Hot Rod.
Carefully he tracked another of the supporting tubes.
And fired.
And again a spectacular, writhing collapse—and this time, the mirror fell free, supported by only two tubes, and permanently out of focus, incapable of aiming the monster beam.
This time, Hot Rod was definitely secure from the misapplication of Security.
"Three minutes," he spoke into the radio. "Your weapon is dead. My next shot will be through the nitrogen tank at your air-lock. I wouldn't advise you to be there."
The wheel turned once more, as the radio came alive from the other end.