The Bonehead swung his ready weapon—with his build, he had no need, ever, to turn or whirl to face danger—and pressed a stud. A searing lance of flame stabbed out at the over-bold intruder. Passengers screamed and fled into whatever places of safety were available.

CHAPTER THREE

DeLameters and Space-Axe!

Cloud wasted no time in swearing; he could swear and act simultaneously. He flashed his cruiser up near the lifeboat, went inert, and began to match velocities even before the Uhalian's heat-beam expired. Since his intrinsic was not very far off, as such things go, it wouldn't take him very long, and he'd need all the time to get ready for what he had to do. He conferred briefly with the boat's Chickladorian pilot upon his visual, then thought intensely.

He would have to board the lifeboat—he didn't see any other way out of it. Even if he had anything to blast it with, he couldn't without killing innocent people. And he didn't have much offensive stuff; his cruiser was not a warship. She carried plenty of defense, but no heavy offensive beams at all.

He had two suits of armor, a G-P regulation and his vortex special, which was even stronger. He had his DeLameters. He had four semi-portables and two needle-beams, for excavating. He had thousands of duodec bombs, not one of which could be detonated by anything less violent than the furious heart of a loose atomic vortex.

What else? Nothing—or yes, there was his sampler. He grinned as he looked at it. About the size of a tack-hammer, with a needle point on one side and a razor blade on the other. It had a handle three feet long. A deceptive little thing, truly, for it weighed fifteen pounds and that tiny blade could shear through neocarballoy as cleanly as a steel knife slices through cheese. It was made of dureum, that peculiar synthetic which, designed primarily for use in hyper-spatial tubes, had become of wide utility. Considering what terrific damage a Valerian could do with a space-axe, he should be able to do quite a bit with this. It ought to qualify at least as a space-hatchet!

He put on his special armor, set his DeLameters to maximum intensity at minimum aperture, and hung the hatchet upon a hook at his belt. He eased off his blasts—there, the velocities matched. A minute's work with needle-beam, tractors and pressors sufficed to cut the two smaller ships apart and to dispose of the Uhalian's magnets and cables. Another minute of careful manipulation and the 

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