I brought my manacled hands up to my blouse and felt frantically for the red and bronze disc. The Amnesty was gone.
"Come along, now," said the one who'd helped me up.
"Where are we going?" I demanded.
"You're to be held incommunicado," he said, "until the Amnesty-bearer returns. Come along, now. We haven't got all day!"
"Day?" I said, and looked toward the viewport. Sure enough the glaring Martian sunlight was pouring into the cabin. "But we were landing on the night side," I said, confused.
"You did," said the one with the collapser. "Only it was arranged that you'd stay asleep for a while, till we could get here."
"Arranged how?" I choked furiously. Then I remembered the capsules I'd taken. I looked toward the instruction posted on the inside of the cabin door. Now that I was in no great hurry, I could see where someone had, with ordinary pen and ink, gone over the numeral 1, and made it into a passable 2. Someone, I thought bitterly, with shimmering cornsilk hair and red velvet lips!
"Now, just a minute, you guys, I can explain." I said.
"Stow it," said the one with the gun. "Come on, get moving."
"When Chief Baxter hears about this—" I growled.