But he was mad. Hadn't the Hell Bat just stopped existing? There was nothing known to man that could have disintegrated the ship. The robot couldn't have had time to invent and build such a weapon of destruction—nor could it have had time to build an underground fortress in the planetoid. So he was insane. It was all a product of his imagination.
Larry!
The word impinged on his mind. He wasn't sure whether it had been thought or a sound. It was, he suddenly realized, a voice. A real voice. Stella's.
"Stella!" he shouted.
Her voice was a prayer of thanks. "You're alive! I wasn't sure. I...." Then, "That was a dirty trick, Larry. I know you had your orders, but I could have gotten my freighter and the robot."
"Then go back and get them!" Larry said, suddenly mad. "Don't mind me. I'll be picked up when I reach Proxima Centauri!"
"There won't be anything to get." Her voice was bitter.
"You saw your ship destroyed?" Larry said.
"N-no." She was suddenly confused.
Larry laughed. "You mean to tell me when you saw me shoot past you toward outer space you forgot everything else and started after me?"