Again he caused the armor to advance slowly, picking his way along the rock surface. He reached the ship.
For a moment he was hidden behind the hull. One glance sent his hopes plunging utterly. Neither of the two fuel caps were clamped down, which could mean but one thing—the ship's tanks were empty!
It was a stunning blow. No wonder the Martians felt safe in leaving the ship practically unguarded. After a moment, anger began to mount above Bormon's disappointment. He would start to kill off Martians! If he and Calbur couldn't get away from Echo, then he'd see that at least some of these Marts didn't either. He might even wipe them all out. Calbur, too, had a ray-tube.
But what of Calbur? Quickly Bormon moved from behind the ship. Calbur was loitering on the ramp, ore-basket empty, evidently on the point of making a break to join him.
Frantically, Bormon focused the ether-wave on Calbur's helmet, hurling a warning.
"Stay where you are. It's a washout! No fuel...."
He began moving across the rocks toward the power-plant. That was the most likely spot to commence—more Marts close at hand. He'd take them by surprise.
Suddenly he was cold, calculating, purposeful. After all, there wasn't much chance of wiping them all out—and yet he might. He should strike at a vital point, cripple them, so as to give Calbur and the others a chance in case he only managed to kill a few before passing out of the picture.
A glittering neutrochrome helix on top of the power-plant gave him a suggestion. Why not destroy their communications, fix things so they couldn't call for help from Mars?