"You're crazy. I didn't tell her a thing that'd be worth knowing to spies, if that's what you're thinking!"
Another pleasant thought hit me.
"If it makes any difference to you," I told Shane, "I have just remembered that it is past the time when our liberty tickets expire. And—in case you don't realize it—we are not back in our comfy berths as per the Admiral's instructions. We are, to speak facts, Absent Without Leave!"
Shane groaned aloud.
"It was nice being a Corporal," I added. "I hope you had just as much fun from your Sergeant's job. And I trust we will both enjoy the solitary comfort of the brig for the next three months."
Shane groaned dismally again. His stripes meant more to him than his life. So did mine, as a matter of fact.
They halted us, now, at the foot of a winding staircase. What was up there I hadn't any idea, until Varda clarified the situation by saying,
"Up on the roof is our space craft. We know you boys will enjoy the ride we've planned for you."
FROM the looks of the sleek space ship on the roof, we weren't going to take just a casual taxi jaunt to another part of the planet. This baby was built for high speed and lightning travel. And when they pushed us into the cabin, my suspicions of a long journey were further confirmed by a quick glance at the Chart Televizor.[1]
The chartings on it were for a long trek across the void to an isolated section of tiny asteroids. It was marked for one of these asteroids—obviously our destination.
We stood helpless in the cabin, while I got my first look at the guy who'd been pushing the atomic pistol into my ribs. He was fat, greasy, and sloppy. He wore a tunic of the same gray material as the little guy watching after Shane.
All five of us were in the cabin of the space ship now. And Varda rummaged around in the craft's store locker finally bringing out two long sections of thick Venusian hemp cord.
Then, while the other two held the pistols on us, Varda trussed our hands behind our backs, and securely bound our feet. During the process I looked at Shane with all the scorn I could register and said,
"Is this the little cutie you plucked your eyebrows for?"
The string of interplanetary cussing that followed from Shane's tongue was enough to make a Martian's stringy hair curl.
The big, greasy slob slipped in behind the controls of the ship, and the little mustached fellow sat down near us—we'd been dropped like Christmas packages on the floor—holding both atomic pistols menacingly over our bodies. Varda sat beside the fat slob at the controls.
Then, while the rockets splatted deafeningly as the ship juiced up atomic power, I lay there with my skull on the metal flooring, thinking of the court martial that would greet us if we would ever return from this scrape. I'm sure Shane was thinking of the same thing. Minutes later, we felt full rockets shake the floor, and we zoomed up off into space.
WE must have been an hour or so out in space before I finally felt like talking. I did my speechmaking to the wench, Varda.
- ↑ The Chart Televizors are used to map out an interplanetary tour in advance. The screen reproduces the course charted on the Televizor. It stays there as an automatic guide for the duration of the trip, lighting orange every time the ship leaves the course. At the end of the journey its markings are erased by pressing a button. Then another course can be charted.—Ed.
