"Bu' can—mus' not—Chat an' Bren—die—"
"Nonsense."
Barbara plucked at Dusty's sleeve. "He's talking about his friends. Chat and Bren. On Mercury, remember?"
"Oh, don't worry about them."
"But don't you see, Dusty? If we go into the barytrine field, and trap Scyth and his spacecraft with us, his friends will be marooned on Mercury."
Dusty nodded quickly. "Sure and that's what I'm counting on. They'll not start Sol into a variable until Scyth gets back. So—"
"Don't be blind. They won't start the variable star, but no one can stop the barytrine field. They'll still be marooned."
Dusty grinned. "You don't think a gang this advanced would be so dumb as to leave a couple of their kind marooned on a place like Mercury, do you? Well, I'll tell you how I've got it figured, Barb. Exactly eight seconds after Scyth does not land as per schedule, Chat and Bren will be calling for help on these phanoband things. That'll take care of them. But as for this guy, let's cheer up. We've got a sort of hostage. Scyth will be most happy to make a spacecraft for us as soon as he gets back on his feet. Chat and Bren will, of course, be taken care of some thousand years before we—"
Scyth groaned loudly.
"Huh?" demanded Dusty.