Chapter V

They sighted the _Friar Bacon_ well toward the front of the line of scouts. Only one ship lay in its carrier. The mother ship hove to while the tiny craft nuzzled into the waiting pocket.

Carlyle was waiting at the air-lock when they sprang out. Larry's words crackled with tension.

"We've raised the _Astral_, sir! Afraid Haggard's going to know about it in a few hours, too. One of his scouts jumped us and we killed the men. Better let us go back with Murphy's ship while you round up the rest of the fleet. This is going to mean trouble!"

Carlyle's eyes glowed, and his features seemed to shine with inner energy.

"Great work!" he breathed. "I'll drop off Murphy directly. Mark the way out there with flares. We'll get the rest of the boys and be there in three hours. If we're lucky we can unload the _Astral_ and be out of the territory without crossing his path."

Larry Wolfe saluted and turned back to the scout. He tried to summon the fierce dislike he had for the salvage boss when he was away from him, but it would not rise. Carlyle's personality was a strong one. Men instinctively took orders from him and liked it, and women--Well, Ann had certainly changed. Yet there was a shading of something sinister under the man's smooth, forceful exterior. Larry could not isolate the things about him he distrusted.

Once more they dropped away from the _Friar_. Murphy, Stoller and Cass came booming along after them, jets belching and the whole, tiny craft leaping like a released whippet in the effort to pace Larry.

It was an hour and a half before they saw the _Astral_ in their glasses once more. In their path they had dropped red fluctuating flares to guide the mother ship to the derelict. The scout sidled in beside the space-barge. Magnets sent out invisible tentacles and hauled them against the vessel with a stiff shock. Murphy's red head bobbed into view as his own craft made landing.

Larry Wolfe snapped orders. Stoller and Cass tackled the job of cutting away the ragged metal to provide more room for the loading of the salvage ship. Jeff, Abe, and Murphy joined Larry in the back-breaking toil of moving the gold.

And all the time they were conscious of the precious weapon that was slipping from their fingers ... _time_! Minutes, seconds, fleeing from them, while they wondered which ship would be first to return, the _Friar Bacon_ with its glittering silver hull, or the black tiger-shark of the void--the _Martian_.

Without warning there was a terrific crash against the side of the derelict. The six sweating workmen were flung to their faces on the floor. One of the scout ships was torn lose and went rolling away.

Larry ripped out his gun and crawled to the opening in the vessel's shell. What he saw caused him to sigh with new relief.

"Meteor shower," he called to the others. "We took the biggest part of it right then. You can hear the dust pattering against us now. Nothing to worry about."

_Nothing to worry about--!_

But right then another impact came that up-tilted the barge and hurled them from their feet, stunned. A shadow fell over the sunlight splashed room and a long, black shape glided past, a mile or two away. The _Martian_ was back and ready for war.

* * * * *

There was a second shot that sprawled them around. In the bow of the attacking cruiser winked a malevolent green eye. At Larry's signal, every man jammed the range setting on his pistol up to full. Even with the guns taxed to their utmost, they would be pitiful answer to the cannon aboard the other craft.

"Murphy!" Larry yelled. "Take your men up to the bridge where you can keep your eye on 'em. Keep firing. Don't let 'em rest."

But there was no slowing down Brand Haggard. With the cunning of a tiger, he swooped and curvetted about the _Astral_, never stopping long enough to let one of those pistol shots burn deep. There was not an instant when the derelict was still; constantly it rolled in a sea of searing, churning ether, burned fiercely by force-charges. From time to time a great hole was gashed through the barge.

Then there came a blasting concussion that piled Larry, Jeff, and Abe in a corner like three rats in a box. Blood filtered down Larry's neck where his space suit had gashed him. Light spilled into the ship through the fore parts. With his heart hammering, he ran forward to the bridge.

He found the hole where the bridge had been, but Murphy, Stoller and Cass were gone. A hundred yards away the _Martian_ was maneuvering for another shot.

Larry ran back to the others.

"They're gone," he bit out. "And we're slated for the same if we hold out any longer. Let's grab the scout and head for the _Friar_. Maybe we can get back here before Haggard guts this barge."

All three men seemed to sense the cessation of the _Astral's_ rolling at the same instant. They glanced dumbly at each other. _What had caused the pirate to stop its barrage?_

All at once, Jeff was pointing, yelling like a madman. Cheers broke from the others' throats. With the swift grace of a bullet, the _Friar Bacon_ was shooting across the sky in pursuit of Haggard's ship!

For a few minutes it was like watching a pair of clever fencers feint and lunge. The speed of the ships went for little now. It was the daring and skill of the man at the controls that spelled victory or defeat.

But in the end it was the _Martian_ that drew off. A shot ripped away most of a scout carrier and showed Brand Haggard, temporarily, at least, that he was bucking a tougher, smarter man.

Carlyle did not chase him. Such a pursuit, zig-zagging on full throttles through space, could easily last a week. He brought the big cruiser alongside the wrecked _Astral_ and the survivors sprang aboard.