Hours later the vast South Desert was rising up below him. Deimos had just appeared, climbing with slow majesty across the sky; Phobos would come a few hours later, pursuing its reckless course. Ketrik peered far ahead to the horizon. There, against the dark downward curve, he saw a faint glow that was not the glow of Deimos. He knew that must be the capital city, Turibek, untold miles away. He made swift calculation. To the right, then, would be the K'Mari Range. He knew those mountains. It would be the very place to leave his ship.
He dropped lower and headed for there. The pale ghost-glow of Deimos didn't help much. He switched to infra-red, peered at the V-Panel as it lighted up and saw the unmistakable, serrated line of mountains about twenty miles away. He had judged it that close! Ketrik grinned proudly.
It was short-lived. A Martian voice sliced through the radio, shrill and commanding.
"Ground! You, below there—you will ground immediately or we blast!"
Then Ketrik realized that for the past several minutes there had been a faint humming sound from above and all about him, scarcely heard. He had relaxed in his vigilance, and the Martian 'copters had picked out his trail—those fast-powered and deadly scouting ships. They too must be equipped with infra-red!
Even as these thoughts raced through his mind, Ketrik was acting. He leaped away from the V-Panel, grabbed the Control and threw it over. Too late now! The ship responded, but sluggishly. The nose veered sharply upward, trying to leap away—then the entire hull shuddered. Power-beams! It must be a vast concentration of them, to stop Frequency power! Slowly his forward progress was retarded. Relentlessly he was being forced down into the Martian sands. Again the voice sliced through.
"It is useless, outlaw! We've had you in our finder for the past five minutes and you are in a network of Power-beams. Nullify your control immediately or we blast!"
Ketrik cursed. Already his ship was straining at the seams. And now he felt insufferable heat all about him, realized they were using the beams. His stomach turned over as he thought of his rocket-tubes loaded with fuel....
Quickly he entered the starboard lock; stood peering down. He was dropping fast. Above him now he saw hosts of vague shapes, heard the whine of Martian 'copter blades cutting the air. The metal under his fingers was growing hot. He counted to five, slowly ... and leaped outward.
It may have been thirty feet—or fifty. Ketrik only knew that he was plummeting downward. He let his muscles go limp, and just in time. He hit the sand hard, rolled over once and knew that no bones were broken. Above him he saw the pale glow of heat-beams, saw the hull of his spacer growing cherry-red ... and suddenly realized his danger.