Dyann slammed the outer valve in his face by the remote-control lever and the little ship stood on her tail again and flamed skyward.
A somewhat battered Ray Ballantyne crawled out of his suit and blinked at them. It had been a rough two or three days, though they hadn't gone very far with him. The truth drugs must have satisfied them that he was not an intentional spy, and thereafter they had simply held him until orders for his execution should come. He swayed into Dyann's arms.
"Oh, my poor Ray," she murmured. "My poor, poor little Earthlin."
"Hey, wait a minute," he began weakly.
"Just lie still, I will take care of you."
"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of. Lemme go!"
They sat down again on a remote mountaintop, gave the policeman a spacesuit, and kicked him out of the ship. He was still wailing about barbarous and inhuman treatment. He said something too about wild beasts.
"And now," said Dyann, "let us get back to Earth before the Yovians find us."
"This crate'll never make Earth," said Ray. "I've flown 'em—let me at those controls, Urushkidan."
They heard it as well, the ominous sizzling and knocking from the engine-room shields, and felt the ship tremble with it.