"By the gods, little man, you should have been a Keshi!"
"I can think of a lot of things I should have been," said Campbell dourly. "Hey, there goes our wall."
It hadn't been more than four minutes. Long enough for them to look and go away again. There might still be time, before the Spaceguard came.
There was, just. The getaway couldn't have been more perfectly timed. Campbell grinned, feeding power into his jets with exquisite skill.
He didn't have a Chinaman's chance. He thought probably the gypsies had less than that of coming through. But the Kraylens weren't going to rot in the slave-pens of Lhi because of Roy Campbell.
Not while Roy Campbell was alive to think about it. And that, of course, might not be long.
He sent the Fitts-Sothern shooting toward the night side of Venus, in full view and still throttled down. The Spaceguard ships, nine fast patrol boats, took out after him, giving Romany the go-by. No use stopping there. No mistaking that lean, black ship, or whose hands were on the controls.
Campbell stroked the firing keys, and the Fitts-Sothern purred under him like a cat. Just for a second he couldn't see clearly.
"I'm sorry, old girl," he said. "But that's how it has to be."