Ryd underwent a considerable egoflation in his contempt for this other man's defeat. It had been long since he had known the savage joy of winning.
Arliess said weakly, raising both hands to press flat against his temples, "Where—are we?" The same words Ryd had whimpered not so long ago.
Mury turned slightly to look at the astrogator out of the corners of his eyes. He said deliberately, "We're past. Inspection's over, and—thanks largely to you, Yet Arliess, we're clear."
The young man sat for a moment with head buried in his hands. Then he looked up and out toward the motionless star fields that glittered ahead.
"So?" he said bitterly. "What next? Are you going to try to steal the power shell? And if so, where are you going to escape to? I suppose you realize that you'd have to scoot right out of the System to even get clear of the Algol's guns—and there are four other Earth dreadnaughts in planetary space alone?"
Arliess' words, coldly confident of a victory that would be death for him, chilled Ryd. But he took heart from Mury's jeering laughter.
"Do you think I'd have come this far if I had feared your dreadnaughts? They'll have enough to think of before the next twenty-four hours are past, when they are hurled in battle against all the power of Mars!"
Arliess stiffened. "Are you crazy? There's no war in the air. A year ago, yes, perhaps—but now, with the treaties signed and trade resuming—"
"And Earth," snapped Mury, "sold for that very trade into the hands of the Martian overlords. No, war is preferable—and we'll have war, now."
"You talk," said Arliess in a curiously flat voice, "as if the choice of courses rested in your hands."