But to find trouble in the middle of Sahara Base was definitely stunning. Sahara Base was as restricted an area as had ever been guarded and yet trouble had come for Guy.
The trouble was a MacMillan held in the clawlike hand of a Martian. The bad business end was dead-center for the pit of Guy's stomach and the steadiness of the weapon's aim indicated that the Martian who held the opposite end of the ugly weapon knew his MacMillans.
Maynard's stomach crawled, not because of the aim on said midriff, but at the idea of a MacMillan being aimed at any portion of the anatomy. His mind raced through several possibilities as he recalled previous mental theories on what he would do if and when such a thing happened.
In his mind's eye, Guy Maynard had met MacMillan-holding Martians before and in that mental playlet, Guy had gone into swift action using his physical prowess to best the weapon-holding enemy. In all of his thoughts, Guy had succeeded in erasing the menace though at one time it ended in death to the enemy and at other times Guy had used the enemy's own weapon to march him swiftly to the Intelligence Bureau for questioning. The latter always resulted in the uncovering of some malignant plot for which Maynard received plaudits, decorations, and an increase in rank.
Now Guy Maynard was no youngster. He was twenty-four, and well educated. He had seen action before this and had come through the Martio-Terran incident unscathed. Openly he admitted that he had been lucky during those weeks of trouble but in his own mind, Maynard secretly believed that it was his ability and his brain that brought him through without a scratch.
His dreaming of action above and beyond the call of duty was normal for any young man of intelligence and imagination.
But as his mind raced on and on, it also came to the conclusion that the law of survival was higher than the desire to die for a theory.
Therefore it was with inward sickness that Guy Maynard stopped short on the sidewalk before the Bureau of Exploration Building and did nothing. He did not look around because the fact that this Martian was able to stand before him in Sahara Base with a MacMillan pointed at his stomach was evidence enough that they were alone on the street. Had anyone seen them, the Martian would have been literally torn to bits by the semi-permanent MacMillan mounts that lined the roof tops.
The Martian had everything his own way, and so Maynard waited. It was the Martian's move.