CHAPTER VI
Dane stretched the little carrier's resources to the limit, pushing it as far out from Mars as he could coax it.
Then, at last, when the craft was well established in a satellite orbit, between Phobos and Deimos and beyond all peril from the mother planet's gravitational pull, he cut the power, turned to the emergency distress-call communicator unit, and switched it on.
He knew Nelva's eyes were on him, even before he swung round to face her once again. It pleased him, how baffled she looked. But her lips stayed set in a thin, straight line—a memento of some of the things he'd said after the take-off—so he knew she wouldn't speak till he did.
"All right," he grinned, "what do you give me for our chances now, my dear Miss Mars Record Center Supervisor Guthrie?"
The line of her mouth drew even tighter. So, after a moment, he let drive with another needle: "Or maybe, as an expert on problems and solutions, you don't want to give a dangerous Kalquoi agent like me the benefit of your professional opinion?"
That did it. Dane could see the girl's knuckles whiten. Her eyes flashed, more ice-blue now than grey.
"You're a fool, Clark Dane!" she burst out furiously. "Once that signal's picked up, Security's sure to have patrol ships here within an hour!"
"Maybe." Dane permitted himself the luxury of grim humor.