"Don't throw that chair!" A clear, firm feminine voice came from the doorway behind me. "Set it gently on the floor! Any tricks and I'll shoot!"
For just a moment I hesitated, the stool held high over my head. A woman ... here! Then I felt the muzzle of a gun dig into my back, and I knew that whoever the woman was, she meant business. I set the stool carefully on the floor, turned, hands raised, to face my captor.
The owner of the clear voice was young, slender, her well-modeled figure sheathed in a shining green cellatos dress. Her hair was the coppery red of a Martian desert, and her eyes were cloudy blue, the color of distant hills. The hand that held the gun was steady, her expression was determined.
"I thought I heard voices," the girl said. "Who were you talking to?"
"Only the radio." I nodded toward the set, grinning. "I called Verlis to tell them the Cerean Mining's safe is being cleaned out by my charming father."
"Your father!" The girl's figure stiffened. "Then you're Steve McClean! And you've notified your uncle to come here? Oh, you fool! You fool!" Tears of anger filled her eyes, adding rather than detracting from her beauty.
I stared at the girl, puzzled. What was she doing on this ship? And how did she know about me, about Uncle John? There was, of course, one simple explanation of her presence, but somehow I didn't like to think of it.
"Now that you've found out who I am," I said, "maybe you'll tell me your name? And your status aboard this ship?"
She didn't answer. Her lips moved, but she seemed to be talking to herself.