Then, as the last of the guards disappeared down the cargo ramp, he spun about, swept the girl up bodily over his shoulder, and headed for the carrier at a dead run.
He was already on the loading ladder before the first shout of discovery arose behind him.
Inside, now. The hatch slammed shut. The launching lever pulled.
A sudden, swift sense of acceleration. Then the easing off as equalizer pressure rose to match it. In the viewer, Mars fell away beneath them.
Dane glanced at Nelva Guthrie.
She stood beside him, the lovely oval of her face a study in pallor. Her fingers trembled as she smoothed the ash-blonde hair, and fear flickered in the grey eyes.
"Clark, where are we going?" Her voice came out a ragged whisper. "Don't you realize they're sure to catch us?"
"Are they?" Dane chuckled grimly.
"Of course. They'll have every landing-platform covered."
Dane laughed again. It was incredible, how well he suddenly felt, all things considered. "Not ours they won't cover!" And then: "Because damn it, we're going straight to Callisto!"