"Wait, Captain. You need have none but the kindest feelings for my master, the Prince of Space. I now ask you nothing but your word as an officer and a gentleman that you will act as becomes a guest of the Prince. Your promise will lose you nothing and win you much."
"Very good, I promise," Brand agreed after a moment. "——for twenty-four hours."
He pulled out his watch, looked at it. The man in the door lowered his pistol, smiling, and walked across to shake hands with Brand.
"Call me Smith," he introduced himself. "Captain of the Prince's cruiser, Red Rover."
Still smiling, he beckoned toward the door.
"And if you like, gentlemen, you may come with me to the bridge. The Red Rover is to land in an hour."
Brand sprang nimbly to the floor, and Bill followed. The flier was maintaining a moderate acceleration—they felt light, but were able to walk without difficulty. Beyond the door was a round shaft, with a ladder through its length. Captain Smith clambered up the ladder. Brand and Bill swung up behind him.
After an easy climb of fifty feet or so, they entered a domed pilot-house, with vitrolite observation panels, telescopes, maps and charts, and speaking tube—an arrangement similiar to that of the Fury.
Black, star-strewn heavens lay before them. Bill looked for the earth, found it visible in the periscopic screens, almost behind them. It was a little green disk; the moon but a white dot beside it.
"We land in an hour!" he exclaimed.