"Wonder how Korentana made out?" He looked overside.
Abruptly, he was aware of another flier close to his. On its top a blue light blinked glaringly. He looked at it in consternation. Had they——? But how? He started to pull the control to him and go into evasive flight. Then he stopped.
"Use your head," he advised himself.
He reached out and scooped up the microphone. For an instant, he looked into space, thinking, then he spoke.
"Riandar control," he snarled in an imitation of Gorham's voice. "Onarati three. Got one of your guys on my back. What's the idea?" He released the button.
"Oh, boy," he told himself, "I hope that's the right approach." He looked toward the back of the cabin. If his short contact with Gorham had told him enough, and if he'd judged correctly ... and if Gorham was——
The speaker crackled. "Onarati three, Riandar control," it said. "Seven zero five?"
Don looked down at the card under the panel light. Yes, there it was. "Give your location."
He mashed the microphone button again. "Seven hundred meters," he snarled impatiently. "South edge of town. Come on, what's this guy doing, riding my tail?"
Another voice intruded into the speaker. "Your pardon, Onarati three," it said. "This is Rano two four. We cannot read your identification lights."