Jeffers levelled the electro. "The other gun, Emmons. It goes to Captain Landreth! Quick!"
Curt shrugged, walked forward and handed it to her.
She flashed him a smile. "Thanks for what you did, Emmons." She came and faced Kueelo, surveyed him coldly. "Little man, can't you wait to die? Let me assure you—another trick like that and you'll never see Mars again!"
Kueelo stalked away, eyes still blazing hatred.
IV
Lorine Landreth proved a canny navigator. She set a course far beneath the ecliptic, and for two days they did not encounter a Patrol. Curt had noticed the spacer was painted solid black and carried no insignia; an old trick of George Landreth's.
Was George Landreth connected in some way with all the far-scattered events which DeHarries called the pattern? Had he allowed his gnawing hate to encompass the entire Federation? All else was relegated to unimportance in Curt's mind beside this single throbbing question. War between the planets was imminent, as more and more monstrous happenings occurred without reason. Curt doubted that Landreth himself could be behind it all; it was too far-reaching and purposeful. But Curt was resolved to follow his present lead, and hope for a way to report back to DeHarries.
And there was another question. Kueelo.
Late on the second day Curt was off duty when there came a soft rap on his stateroom door, and Kueelo entered.