"Hello."
It was a feminine voice. Slowly, Norman swung his long legs around and stared at the girl, too astonished to speak. She was just a kid, about fifteen years old, wearing baggy white coveralls. A mop of honey-colored hair framed her pert freckled face.
She held up her hands as if to keep him away. "Now don't get excited." Her blue eyes were like a kitten's. "I'm Dorothy Gray. My father owns the Daily Times and I work on the paper during vacation. I played stowaway because you're on the trail of the news story of the century. While you were checking out with the dispatcher," the girl grinned, "I emptied your food locker and crawled in myself. I know you must be trying to find out what happened to your friend. You're the type that gets things done."
Grinding his teeth, Norman turned back to the control panel and reached for the turn lever. Now he had to take this brat to Earth—when Johnny's life depended on haste in the opposite direction. No! He'd put her in a space suit and kick her out. Johnny was his best friend. His anger hovered an instant over the decision. And in that instant he saw the girl step aside. His mouth fell open as another figure appeared from the galley.
This time it was a grown woman—breath-takingly grown. She walked in like she owned the place, smoothing a tweed skirt above bare legs that could have graced a glassilk hose advertisement. Above a crimson blouse, her hair was black as sunless space against her cloud-like skin. She was obviously Venusian, with the orchid-like beauty of all women of the emerald planet. In her hand was a stubby jet of a pistol, the round hole of its barrel staring into Norman's bewildered eyes.
"Hello, handsome," she said, ignoring the girl beside her. "I was in your ammunition locker. I'm Keren Vaun. Just stick at those controls. I'm here to make sure that the patrol gets you." She sat down on the metal box beside the galley door. She crossed her trim legs and held the pistol steady on one rounded knee.
"Okay," Norman smiled. "If that's the way you want it." He turned around, clamped his long legs under the control seat, and flipped the stabilizer switch. Their little world turned upside down, sprawling both females across the floor in a mass of contrasting legs and arms.
When the switch flipped back into contact, the ship righted itself instantly and Norman stepped across the room and picked up the pistol. He stepped back and squeezed his panel triggers. Dead guns. "So you've carted out all my ammunition and Sade is really after me."
The Venusian woman pulled herself up off the floor. "You'll find out when the patrol sights you." Her black eyes looked as deadly as her gun had.