Joe gave himself a last swipe with the towel and tossed it through the open hatch of the skimmer. Sarah carried her towel into the boat and came out presently in a suede skirt and bolero, looking rubbed down and delectable. Joe's wife was half Martian, and it showed in her long, slender eyebrows and delicately cleft nose and chin. She looked worriedly at the three men busy with the frankfurters.
"There's something on the telaudio," she said. "Come in and listen."
"What is it?" Joe asked.
"Something about somebody escaping from Mars Detain."
Ray's humming stopped. He'd been practicing wrist octaves on a flat rock and his long hand hung motionless for a moment as if he were reaching for something. Kent set his frank across the top of his coffee cup—he was always careful about everything—and stood up.
Joe looked at his wife, looked at her eyes. They were frightened.
"That's pretty near here, isn't it?" Sarah said. She moved back to let the three men into the boat. They grouped around the telaudio.
"I don't think there's anything to worry about," Kent said slowly. "They're bound to catch the men—"
"They aren't men."
The four listened.