"We're not? Then what are we suiting up for?"
"Just in case," said Loring. "Now listen to me. In a few minutes the Annie Jones'll make contact with traffic control. Only instead of talking to the pilot—they'll be talking to us. Because we'll have taken over."
"But unless we land they'll be suspicious. And if we land ..."
Loring interrupted. "Nobody's going to suspect a thing. I'll tell traffic control we've got an extra-heavy load. Then they won't let us land. We follow their orders and blast off into space—find an emergency fuel station—head for Tara—and nobody suspects anything."
Mason twisted his face into a scowl. "Sounds awful risky to me," he muttered.
"Sure it's risky," sneered Loring, "but you don't hit the jackpot without ever taking a chance!"
The two men, huddled against a jumble of packing cases in the cargo hold of the Annie Jones, made careful preparations. Checking their weapons, they opened their way toward the freighter's control deck. Just outside the hatch they stopped, paralo-ray guns ready, and listened.
Inside, Pilot James Jardine and Leland Bangs, his first officer, were preparing for the landing at the space station.
"Ought to be picking up the approach radar signal pretty soon," said Bangs. "Better take her off automatic control, Jardine. Use the manual for close maneuvering."
"Right," answered his spacemate. "Send out a radar blip for them to pick up. I'll check the cargo and make sure it's lashed down for landing. Captain Stefens is tough when it comes to being shipshape."