lurch for the enemy.

In the pilot cuddy Dar-Ley watched the cosmoscope and intoned the distance measurements.

"Thirty thousand miles. Enemy still following same course."

"Twenty thousand. No change."

"Eight hundred."

A frown crossed Standish's face. The Sirian ship must have seen them by now. Alone and without convoy, it should have turned and fled.

Puzzled, the Earthman ordered a shot across the enemy's bows. The Sirian did not change her course. And then Dar-Ley gave a frantic cry.

"Behind us. Look!"

Six Sirian ships were racing out from the surface of the moon in battle formation. Even as Standish looked, he saw four more cruisers join the others, spread out to cut off the Phantom.

He realized then that he had blundered into a trap. The Sirians had been waiting for him. The single cruiser had been the bait which he had swallowed blindly.

"We'll have to run for it," Dar-Ley cried. "They're too many for us."

Standish's teeth came together grimly. "We'll give them a fight for their money first."

On toward the cruiser the Phantom raced. The ship staggered as the Sirian opened fire, and two of the shots glanced harmlessly off the feloranium hull. But with five well-placed shots Standish demolished the Sirian's guns and left her floating helplessly. Then the Phantom turned helm and ran alongside on the opposite side of the cruiser.

In an instant Dar-Ley saw Standish's strategy. The Phantom was now protected with the cruiser between her and the fleet. The Earthman flipped open his microphone switch.

"Rocket bomb. Full charge. Point four."

There was a deafening report as the bomb erupted from its cylinder. Through the port Standish saw the nearest Sirian ship explode into fragments. He smiled grimly and swung his helm far over.

"Here we go, Dar-Ley. If they 

 Prev. P 30/37 next