"We'll be back on Earth in eighteen hours," the choleric Mackensie asserted. "You can all go to hell—you murderers—bandits—"
"Back to Earth?" Torio sneered. "Watch us turn, Captain. Not back to Earth. It's Venus we're going to head for. Venus—where the new triumphant Government will be needing that treasure you've hidden. Up there with you in the turret, isn't it?"
"To hell with you—"
"Watch us turn, Captain."
I was aware of the glittering Heavens up through the glassite pressure dome as they made a dizzying swoop. The little X-87, with her gravity plates abruptly shifted by the manual controls in the hull room, was turning over.
"See it, Captain?"
"You damned fools," Mackensie roared. "Disconnect my controls if you like. What the hell of it? You can't chart a course down there. You haven't the instruments or the skill."
"Quite true, Captain. That's why we want you to surrender. We'd really rather not kill you. And if we go falling through Space this way, unguided, we might eventually hit something. Your five minutes are almost up. What do you say?"
My nostrils abruptly were dilating. What was this? Suddenly I was aware of a queer acrid smell here. And my head gave a swoop. Here in the turret Green and Polter were at the forward window. I saw them fling me a startled glance. Both of them staggered to their feet. And Mackensie, still gripping the receiver, was swaying.