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. . . would a missile reach him? . . . would it still reach him if he did not --
He hardly felt Mata's gentle touch on his shoulder. But he heard Jeri snap, "Stay out, Sis! We're on it, we're on it!"
A light blinked on Thorby's board; the squawk horn sounded, "Friendly craft, friendly craft! Losian planetary patrol, identified. Return to watch-and-watch."
Thorby took a deep breath, felt a great load lift.
"Continue your run!" screamed Jeri.
"Huh?"
"Finish your run! That's no Losian craft; that's a raider! Losian's can't maneuver that way! You've got it, boy, you've got it! Nail him!"
Thorby heard Mata's frightened gasp, but he was again at his problem. Change anything? Could he reach him? Could he still reach him in the cone of possible maneuver? Now! He armed Ms board and let the computer give the order, on projection.
He heard Jeri's voice faintly; Jeri seemed to be talking very slowly. "Missile away. I think you got him . . . but you were eager. Get off another one before their beam hits us."
Automatically Thorby complied. Time was too short to try another solution; he ordered the machine to send another missile according to projection. He then saw by his board that the target was no longer under power and decided with a curiously empty feeling that his first missile had destroyed it.
"That's all!" Jeri announced. "Now!"
"What?"
"Who had it? You or me? Three desserts
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