By this time we had the slip-shot loaded as much as we dared, lest the mutinous dogs notice their supplies had been pilfered. The battleship was large, and had afforded us much room to roam and hide without notice but we dared not test our luck. At once Joyce and I launched the tiny ship and made for the planet’s surface as quickly as the engines would take us. The trip must have aroused some alarm on the planet’s surface, for we caught a coded message – a series of numbers and letters ‘11111BU11340.’ Scarcely we had begun to guess its meaning when the it became apparent, red lights flared across the slip-shot’s controls as anti-landing guns and defence platforms targeted us. I had half a mind to turn about, but Joyce simply pressed on downward – sending us falling faster and harder towards the ground. We soon enough touched it and though the weapons had not touched us, the slip-shot was wrecked from the impact.