Satisfied, Vanita pulled two heavy space-suits from the locker and began to don one of them. Earmar was still busy with the forward jets, now increasing them to maximum power so that the speed was decreasing with every passing second. He spent a further few minutes computing the vessel’s course and making sure it would pass beneath the freighter when their paths crossed. This done, he rose, donned the remaining space-suit, then glanced at the girl.
“Ready?”
“Uh-huh,” she assented. “And though you’ve no weapon I’m taking this proton gun. I haven’t got a thousand-horse-power brain like you have.” And her helmet snapped shut on its hinge.
Earmar grinned, dropped his own helmet in position, and then led the way to the vessel’s emergency lock in the roof. In fact there were two locks—one in
