And tall dark Jeron, standing gravely at the controls, shook his head.
"This time," he said heavily, "we won't get away. For already they are close upon us. Our rust-colored hull is easy to see. And they're already racing to get between us and the cosmic cloud—Kel can't pull that again!"
"Don't need to."
The Earthman still wore the grimed, gaudy togs of old Naralek. The brilliant patch of the sandbat was still plastered to his shoulder like some diamond-winged, colossal moth. But his lean body stood very straight, and his gray eyes flashed with a fighting glint.
The swarm of red stars—the flaring repulsors that drove our pursuers—grew and spread. A flight of them swept up beside us. Deadly blue needles began to probe for us. And Kel Aran turned gravely from the danger without, to the telescreen cabinet.
"—spies!" It was the boom of Gugon Kul. "Enemies of the Corporation and the Empire! They must be taken."
Something clicked.
"Hold on, Admiral!" The voice of Kel Aran had the cracked nasal twang of the old showman of space. "Remember what Setsi told you, in the booth?"
The reply was an incoherent bellow.
"I do, by the Emperor!" It became at last comprehensible. "And it proves that your circus is a ring of spies!"