other's sights. The pursuit came roaring down upon them, driving them deeper into the hole. Within the Valiant all was silence. Margo had come back, dressed in an over-large uniform, and she got the story from Dane in monosyllables.
Dane was thinking; black, ugly thoughts that would not be suppressed. Here in the Great Red Spot, a battle between two ships was deciding all that he and his father and grandfather had fought for. New York was still in the hands of the rebels, but how long would it remain that way if Bayard and his cohorts returned to gather up their lost forces? Not long.
Kris broke into his thoughts by exclaiming:
"We've still got the little one-gun auxiliary ship in the hold. Take the controls, Vanz, I've got a notion I can give them something to think about!"
"What use?" Vanz argued, taking over the controls the other had deserted. "The gun in the auxiliary is no better than ours."
"I wasn't thinking of guns," Kris said cryptically.
Dane seized his arm as he started from the room.
"Stay here with Margo," he said gruffly. "That's a job for me."
"I said I'm taking her out!" Kris flared. "Get back to the guns."
Dane roughly thrust him aside.
"Do you have to have a gun stuck in your face to listen to reason?" he bit out. "This is my job. Your job is with Margo and the people."
"Then well both go," Kris countered. And nothing Dane could say or do would prevent him from following him to the hold.
THE auxiliary was a tiny ship that would just hold two men. The pair got it on the runway, set the automatic air-lock that jetted the ship from the Valiant's belly, and crawled inside. Dane made his way to the pilot's seat. When everything was set, he signaled Kris. The Ionian yanked a cable and the blocks fell off the runway. Then he slammed the door, bolted it, and they plunged into the tube.
In that tiny craft, it was like falling overboard to leave the mother ship. The shell was half glass, and Dane could see clearly from every angle. The first thing he saw was the Earth-ship zooming up at the Valiant. He flung the auxiliary straight into her nose, then ducked at the last minute, so close that he could see East Bayard at the controls of the ship, and at his side—Brooke. She was laughing—laughing, as she had always laughed at Dane.
Now he was whirling the craft about and tearing after the attacker. A gun belched flame among the other's stern rockets. A bomb whistled by them so close that its passing jerked at the ship. Dane saw the folly of attacking from that angle again.
Three times in the next minute he saved the Valiant by darting in and forcing Bayard to yield. The Leader's shots were coming at the auxiliary more often than at the Valiant, now. Realizing that, Dane said hurriedly to Kris:
"We've got his goat! Maybe we can draw him away from the ship for a minute—"
"Not long enough for them to get away," the Ionian grunted.
Dane knew it was probably true. He knew something else, too: That even if they decided to bring Bayard down by crashing head-on into him, the job wouldn't be so easy. The pursuit was fast and maneuverable, and Bayard could dodge as easily as they.
As if Kris had been reading his thoughts, he said:
