"There are just two landing circles on Mojave that aren't dusty," said Lane. "One of them is not far from the field office building. The other takes a full hour of travel before you can check in. I don't like to walk."
"Right. I'll see what we can do."
"Good."
One-tenth of a light-second away, an aide entered Stellor Downing's cabin. "Recognition, sir," he said. "Flight Commander Lane, from Venus. I thought you'd like to know."
"What's his course?" clipped Downing.
"Mojave."
"Tell the tech to drop interferers. Tell navigator to correct course for blitz-landing, and tell pilot to streak for landing Circle One. Also broadcast crash-warning."
"Right. We're going in if we have to collide to do it, sir?"
"We'll have no collision. Lane wouldn't care to scrape any of his nicely painted little toys."
"On the roger," said the aide, leaving immediately.