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You ve been doing all the talking, snapped Dick.
Well, maybe I have, Cobbett admitted. But I expect to be cashing in my
chips in two or three days, and I ve got lots of talking I want to get done
before then. But while I m talking, you re
supposed to be learning how to handle this peashooter here, so that after I
get mine, you can step up like a gentleman and take what the Basilisk s got
ordered for you.
Dick grinned. The Basilisk has tried to get me a few times already, and I m
still here. Maybe he ll miss again.
Maybe, maybe not. But no more of your lip now. Out there s Sirius. Let me see
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you load, sight and fire in eight seconds, Navy regulation only don t pull the
trigger. We might need that very same shell for a chap who calls himself the
Basilisk.
Why do we use these old-fashioned guns? asked Dick. I should think
radar-guided missiles would be more effective.
Certainly they d be more effective, snorted Cobbett. There just aren t any.
We haven t made weapons since the Security Station was abandoned. The Space
Navy, after all, is only a few months old. So we use these antiques. He
slapped the gun barrel contemptuously.
Well, at least if we don t have them, the Basilisk doesn t either.
That s cold comfort, grumbled Cobbett. What difference does it make what kind
of rocket blows you to perdition? It s the blowing-up itself that s important.
You can take it from me, and he tapped Dick s chest, take it from me, W. C.
Cobbett, that whoever comes out of this fracas alive can count himself lucky.
Dick forced a laugh. You re a pessimist.
Pessimist? Me? Cobbett seemed genuinely astonished. I m no pessimist. I m
not even a realist. I joined the Space Navy to see the universe, like the
recruiting poster says. I m an optimist.
I m always looking for the best side of things. I just don t see any best
side. Do you know what
Commodore Hallmeier has written beside all our names?
No, said Dick in a subdued voice, I ve no idea.
Well, I ll tell you. It s just one word: Expendable.
Chapter 21
Battle
Mars shone ahead like a fire opal, the desert reds and russets, the
gray-greens and blue of the polar frost-caps shimmering to the windy movement
of the atmosphere. Commander Franchetti sat crouched at the radar controls,
sweeping space ahead. We can t be too far behind them, he muttered to Sende.
They had no reason to hurry; they still have no reason. Perseverine sits
there like a ripe plum; there s nothing to stop them but the local police
force. He stared gloomily into the screen. We ll keep the Basilisk busy for
ten minutes anyway. He ll know he s been m a fight.
Dick scanned the mottled disk of Mars. Where is Perseverine?"
Franchetti pointed. See there, that slanting line?
Dick nodded.
That s the Peripher Canal. See where it crosses that low range of mountains?
Yes.
Well, that little dark spot between the canal and the mountains is
Perseverine. He looked across space a long moment. We should be picking up
the Basilisk pretty soon.
Unless he s already gone to work, Sende remarked coolly.
Franchetti shrugged, flipped a switch on the command-circuit. All personnel
into space suits;
stand by battle stations.
Why space suits? Dick asked.
So that, if we take a hit, the loss of air won t kill us.
Dick made his way to the gear locker the corvettes were decelerating on two
gravities
climbed into his space suit.
Time dragged past. Mars spread wide its dusty red plains, Returning to the
bridge, Dick found
Franchetti and Sende staring tensely into the radar screen. He heard
Franchetti mutter, Strange...
Can t understand where they ve gone to. Perseverine seems undisturbed...
A sudden idea startled Dick into speech. Unless we ve passed them in space
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and they re coming up behind us!
Franchetti turned him a surprised glance; Dick regretted his brashness. But
Franchetti, after a moment s hesitation, said a little sheepishly, It s a
thought. He swung the control knob; the radar projector twisted to scan the
sky astern. Instantly four blobs of orange light flashed on the screen.
Franchetti barked into the intercom microphone, Battle stations,
double-quick; stand by for action.... Enemy dead astern!
Dick ran to his gun station, where he found Cobbett leisurely clamping down
his helmet. We only die once, said Cobbett. This seems to be it.
Dick s heart and throat were too full for speech.
Attach your safety belts! Franchetti s voice came sharp through the
earphones. We re going to be pretty busy.
Dick had barely time to snap his elastic safety belt to the stanchion when the
ship lurched sharply to the side. Mars rolled crazily past the port. Dick
caught a flicker astern, sunlight reflecting on distant hulls. Cobbett bent
over his gun.
The ship swung further, the hulls disappeared once more behind the stern; the
horizons of Mars expanded tremendously. Franchetti s going to hang close to
the surface, said Cobbett, where their radar-guided missiles, if they have
any, won t be effective. Although, he added, if they have automatic weapons
and we re still stuck with these antiques, I m resigning from the Navy
effective at once.
Dick said nervously, Where could the Basilisk get automatic weapons? They
haven t been made for years.
Cobbett shook his head sardonically. I wouldn t put anything past him. He
stared up at a great hulk looming suddenly down across the port quarter. From
the black bow an orange spark flickered for an instant. By golly, said
Cobbett, in a hushed voice, they re shooting at us. Missed, I guess.
If they hadn t
Into the earphones came Franchetti s voice. Gunners, fire at targets as soon
as they come into range.
Cobbett growled between his teeth. Out in space, range is as far as you can
see. Well here goes. He squinted through his range finder, turned dials,
touched the trigger button. The gun lanced blue and yellow light, the corvette
quivered with the recoil. A moment later a flame splashed across the pirate
ship. You hit them! cried Dick. You hit them!
Good shot, Cobbett, came Franchetti s voice.
Cobbett muttered, They probably never felt it. He motioned impatiently to
Dick, Hurry up with the shells; this isn t a Sunday-school picnic.
The pirate ship seemed little affected by the hit; its guns sparked and
winked. By dint of wild dodging Franchetti managed to draw safely away.
The surface of Mars came closer and closer; Dick glimpsed clouds of red dust
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