For one thing, though the officer seemed well acquainted with Betty, he never addressed her by the name of Koslow. For another, he accepted the request as if he had been hanging in orbit merely until learning who to go down after.
They really sent her out to nail someone, Tolliver realized. Of course, she stumbled onto Jeffers by plain dumb luck. But she had an idea of what to look for. How do I get into these things? She might have got me killed!
"We do have one trouble," he heard Betty saying. "This tractor driver, Tolliver, saved my neck by making the ship take off somehow, but he says it's set for a six-month orbit, or economy flight. Whatever they call it. I don't think he has any idea where we're headed."
Tolliver pulled her back, holding her in mid-air by the slack of her sweater.
"Actually, I have a fine idea," he informed the officer coldly. "I happen to be a qualified space pilot. Everything here is under control. If Miss Koslow thinks you should arrest Jeffers, you can call us later on this channel."
"Miss Koslow?" repeated the spacer. "Did she tell you—well, no matter! If you'll be okay, we'll attend to the other affair immediately."
He signed off promptly. The pilot faced Betty, who looked more offended than reassured at discovering his status.
"This 'Miss Koslow' business," he said suspiciously. "He sounded funny about that."
The girl grinned.