"Okay," he said, clamping on his helmet. "If it can be repaired we'll keep track of it and pick it up later."
He sat down in the pilot seat and brought his ship near the drifting Hell Bat, with its sleek silver length and shattered nose.
Then she watched him shoot across to the Hell Bat and enter the airlock. With one eye on the viewscreen, she studied the array of instruments and controls of the SP47. Her fingers touched the controls caressingly.
Larry reappeared in the airlock, and waved his arm to attract her attention.
"Good news," he said over the radio. "Everything inside is okay. You lost the fuel stored in the nose tanks, but you've got enough to limp back to the nearest repair station."
"Thanks, Larry—and goodbye!" Stella called.
Her finger pressed down on the control button. Larry and her ship slid abruptly out of the viewscreen.
Worriedly she turned on the stern cameras. The other ship dwindled to a mere speck. Then she saw flame shoot from it. It crept up on her slowly. She watched its behavior until she was satisfied it performed properly. Then she settled down to tracking the freighter, only occasionally making sure Larry was behind.
Several times she tried to get him over the radio. He didn't answer. Was the radio on her ship damaged? Or was he deliberately keeping silent, ignoring her?
When the trackers, without warning, ran out of trail, she tried to raise Larry again. He didn't answer. She took the chance that he could receive and not transmit, and told him about it.