“I am sorry to say, too, that I shall be obliged to take your ship out of your reach temporarily. If I left it where you could use it immediately, I fear that you might hasten to Mars and report my presence in this part of the solar system and it does not suit my plans to have my presence known for some time.”
“Canny,” declared Vince, “always the old fox.”
Robinson grinned.
“I am going to take your ship and anchor it just a few miles away, on the Twin, where you can see it. One of my crew, a reputable instructor of mathematics in an Earth college before he committed a certain indiscretion and sought my protection, informs me that in the matter of a few thousands years the revolutions of the two asteroids will slow down and their orbits will close in, until they finally come together, joining one another. When that occurs you can reach your ship and return to Earth or Mars without harming me in the least.”
“If the oxygen holds out,” suggested Vince.
“I never thought of that,” declared the pirate. “Maybe the oxygen wouldn’t last that long.”
“I’m afraid it wouldn’t,” said Vince.
“At least,” pointed out the other, “you will have the satisfaction of always having your ship in sight when the Twin is in view.” As he spoke Vince leaped. His body, striking against the desk, shoved it backward and toppled the pirate out of his chair. The chair thudded against the carpeted floor. A vase tottered and fell from a shallow wall bracket, smashing to a thousand bits as it struck against a piece of statuary standing beneath it.
Vince, his body bruised by the force of its impact against the heavy desk, scrambled to his feet.
Vernon was vaulting the desk, and disappeared behind it. With a single effort, Vince followed. Vernon and Robinson were locked on the floor in a tangle of flying arms and legs.