"No."
The stars through the dome windows were swinging. A long swing--the
shadows and patterns on the starlit deck were all shifting. The
_Planetara_ was turning. The heavens revolved in a great round sweep
of movement, then settled as we took our new course.
Hahn at the turret controls had swung us. The Earth and the Sun showed
over our bow quarter. The sunlight mingled red-yellow with the
brilliant starlight. Hahn's signals were sounding; I heard them
answered from the mechanism rooms down below. Brigands there--in full
control. The gravity plates were being set to the new positions: We
were on our new course. Headed a point or two off the Earthline. Not
headed for the Moon? I wondered.
Carter and I were planning nothing. What was there to plan? We were
under observation. A Martian paralyzing ray--or an electronic beam,
far more deadly than our own puny weapons--would have struck us the
instant we tried to leave the chart room.
My thoughts were interrupted by a shout from down the deck. At a
corner of the cabin superstructure some fifty feet from our windows
the figure of Miko appeared. A radiance barrage hung about him like a
shimmering mantle. His voice sounded: "Gregg Haljan, do you yield?"
Carter leaped up from where he and I were crouching. Against all
reason of safety he leaned from the low window, waving his hamlike
fist.
"Yield? No! I am in command here, you pirate! Brigand--murderer!"