a thunderous noise and the _Avenger_ rocked gently in recoil
from the heavy blast. Tom quickly sighted on the range finder and saw a
ball of light flash brilliantly in front of the passenger ship. He
breathed a sigh of relief. He had to keep up his avowed reputation of
being a crack marksman and at the same time could not damage the unarmed
passenger ship. The shot had been perfect.

"Good shooting, Kid," roared Coxine from the control deck.

"Thanks, skipper," said Tom, aware that he had not called Coxine
captain, but knowing that his earner speech to the giant pirate had
earned him a certain amount of respect.

Coxine quickly made contact with the captain of the liner on the
teleceiver and the outraged captain's face sharpened into focus on the
screen aboard the _Avenger_.

"By the craters of Luna," exploded the skipper of the passenger ship,
"what's the meaning of this? There are women and children aboard this
vessel."

Coxine smiled thinly. "My name's Bull Coxine, master of the vessel
_Avenger_. One funny move out of you and I'll blast your ship into
protons! Stand by for a boarding party!"

"Captain! Captain!" the radar operator's voice screamed over the
control-deck loud-speaker, "they're trying to send out a signal to the
Solar Guard!"

"They are, huh?" roared Coxine. "Forward turret, check in!"

"Turret, aye!" reported Tom. He had been left alone while Gaillard
issued small arms to the boarding parties.

"Listen, Kid!" roared Coxine. "You said you're a good shot. Right now is
the time to prove it. Blast away her audio antenna!"

Tom gulped. At a range of fifty thousand yards, the antenna, a thick
piece of steel cable, might as well have been a needle to hit.

"Right, skipper," he finally replied. "I'll show you some of the
fanciest shooting you'll ever see in your life!"

He turned back to the range finder, his mind racing like a calculating
machine. He figured the angles of the two ships, considering that the
jet liner was a dead ship in space and the _Avenger_ still under way,
but slowing down at a specific rate of deceleration. He rechecked his
figure a third and fourth time, correcting his calculations each time
with the forward movement of the _Avenger_. If he misjudged a fraction
of a degree, he might kill or injure hundreds of people aboard the
passenger vessel.

"Well?" roared Coxine. "Are you going to fire or not?"

"Coming right up, skipper!" shouted Tom. "Watch this!"

Steeling hims