Barry Williams shook his head sadly. "Can the mist reach up to the end of atmosphere," he asked, "where their ships can go to compress clear air? And, if so, can the mist reach across space to Earth, from where Grey's freighters can bring compressed air?"
"I wonder if I read your mind rightly," Deisanocta said scornfully. "I wonder if you are the friend of Mars I thought you."
He crossed to her in two quick steps. His hands gripped her elbows, drawing her up to face the intensity of his eyes. "Yes, I am a friend of Mars! That's why I'm here—that's why Grey and his men hunt me as they do you!"
She shook herself free. The flush of anger in her cheeks had deepened into a flaming crimson. Her eyes avoided him. "Then do not try to discourage me, Barry Williams. The mist will remain."
He was silent, the plan he'd been about to suggest unspoken. If he was distrusted, this was no time to propose it.
Overhead, they heard the thrumming of rockets. Barry smiled mirthlessly. "Grey has his scouts out."
"They will see nothing in the mist," Deisanocta said confidently. But she turned to the radio and contacted her field captains. "It is the same everywhere," she told him. "The enemy's ships circle helplessly overhead."
"I don't like it," Barry said. "If I know Craig Grey, he's up to something. Those ships aren't up there without a reason."
Deisanocta ignored this, her eyes speaking plainly her disappointment in the Earthman she'd believed a friend. Instead of answering him, she turned to the Martian who had waited so patiently and silently for her orders.