There was no sign of any rocket-boat
in either side screen, and the rear-view screen was a blur of yellow
flame from the jets.
"Cut the jets, Glav," Dard repeated. "Didn't you hear me?"
"But I did, sir!" Seldar Glav indicated the firing-panel. Then he
glanced at the rear-view screen. "The gods help us! It's yellow flame;
the jets are burning out!"
Kalvar Dard had not boasted idly when he had said that his people would
not panic. All the girls went white, and one or two gave low cries of
consternation, but that was all.
"What happens next?" Analea wanted to know. "Do we blow, too?"
"Yes, as soon as the fuel-line burns up to the tanks."
"Can you land on Tareesh before then?" Dard asked.
"I can try. How about the satellite? It's closer."
"It's also airless. Look at it and see for yourself," Kalvar Dard
advised. "Not enough mass to hold an atmosphere."
Glav looked at the army officer with new respect. He had always been
inclined to think of the Frontier Guards as a gang of scientifically
illiterate dirk-and-pistol bravos. He fiddled for a while with
instruments on the panel; an automatic computer figured the distance to
the planet, the boat's velocity, and the time needed for a landing.
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