Smitty nodded. "And then we'll be up a creek. Where do we get our batteries recharged?"
"Couldn't one of us venture into a town around here and buy a few batteries?" Foster suggested. "Without wearing our Martian costumes, of course."
"Our Martian costumes as you call 'em are at least warm!" Smitty retorted. "It's a little cold to go wandering around out there in our coveralls."
"Wouldn't pay to risk it, anyway," Morrow said. "Suppose someone has seen our ship flying around here? Suppose they make a report that brings in the authorities and—"
"But who'd think a man in coveralls just stepped off a spaceship?" Foster persisted.
"Uh huh. You have a point, there. But if the authorities were investigating, they'd check railroad and truck shipments of any plastic or metal aircraft construction materials into this region, and where they were delivered. They'd check local machine shops, auto-parts shops, aviation parts dealers—and they'd check garages! If one of us walks up to a garage, buys a battery, and walks away carrying it on his shoulder, don't you think the garage mechanic is going to remember him, what he looked like, how tall he was, what he weighed? How often does anyone without a car buy an auto battery and carry it away on his shoulder?"
"We might 'borrow' somebody's car," Smitty mused, grinning.
"We might be caught ten minutes afterward, too," Foster objected. "The police are quite efficient at catching car thieves."
"Then we need a car," Morrow concluded. "Smitty, can we lift out of here once we've rebuilt our jets?"
"We could travel a few hundred miles," Smitty conceded. "Not that it would get us anywhere."