"She's a bright girl in her own stinking way," said McBride. "She's been around this gang long enough to know that if a way is possible, we'll think of it. Oh, sure, that's a brag but we've done pretty well so far. So inveigle us into the same trap she's in and then ride out with us. She'd roast in the brimstone of the nether regions before she'd wail for help honestly. But if we get stuck with her she's got two outs. One, we may be able to think our way out. Two, at least we are Terrans like she is."
"Meaning?" asked Hammond darkly.
"Frankly, Sandra Drake is an awful lot of woman, and she knows it. She'd make a plaster saint turn to whistle at her if she turned on the old charm. And with no competition, we'd be fighting one another for the privilege of polishing her shoes."
"Fine future."
"No thanks."
"I'll have a bit of that, too. Well, how can we slip her the old triple-cross?"
"Steve, you'd throw a woman to the lions?"
"With that woman, I'd hate to do it. The S.P.C.A, would haul me in to court for subjecting poor, dumb, defenseless lions to cruelty and inhuman tortures. You're darned right I'd heave her into the drink. But I want to do it in such a way that Sandra Drake will know that it was far from purely coincidental."
"O.K., Steve. We're with you. Larry, throw the Haywire Queen into an orbit around Telfu just outside of the danger zone and slap another recorder on the drive. Make it a high velocity orbit, powered all the way. We should be able to circle Telfu in about fifteen minutes with the super drive. Check?"
"Sure. Here we go."