Part 2

"That's right," said Betty. "Uh ... Daddy made arrangements for me."

Tolliver held her in front of the screen so she would not float out of range of the scanner and microphone. As she spoke, he stared exasperatedly at a bulkhead, marveling at the influence of a man who could arrange for a cruiser to escort his daughter to Ganymede and wondering what was behind it all.

When he heard Betty requesting assistance in arresting Jeffers and reporting the manager as the head of a ring of crooks, he began to suspect. He also noticed certain peculiarities about the remarks of the Patrolman.

* * * * *

For one thing, though the officer seemed well acquainted with Betty, he never addressed her by the name of Koslow. For another, he accepted the request as if he had been hanging in orbit merely until learning who to go down after.

_They really sent her out to nail someone_, Tolliver realized. _Of course, she stumbled onto Jeffers by plain dumb luck. But she had an idea of what to look for. How do I get into these things? She might have got me killed!_

"We do have one trouble," he heard Betty saying. "This tractor driver, Tolliver, saved my neck by making the ship take off somehow, but he says it's set for a six-month orbit, or economy flight. Whatever they call it. I don't think he has any idea where we're headed."

Tolliver pulled her back, holding her in mid-air by the slack of her sweater.

"Actually, I have a fine idea," he informed the officer coldly. "I happen to be a qualified space pilot. Everything here is under control. If Miss Koslow thinks you should arrest Jeffers, you can call us later on this channel."

"Miss Koslow?" repeated the spacer. "Did she tell you--well, no matter! If you'll be okay, we'll attend to the other affair immediately."

He signed off promptly. The pilot faced Betty, who looked more offended than reassured at discovering his status.

"This 'Miss Koslow' business," he said suspiciously. "He sounded funny about that."

The girl grinned.

"Relax, Tolliver," she told him. "Did you really believe Daddy would send his own little girl way out here to Ganymede to look for whoever was gypping him?"

"You ... you...?"

"Sure. The name's Betty Hanlon. I work for a private investigating firm. If old Koslow had a son to impersonate--"

"I'd be stuck for six months in this orbit with some brash young man," Tolliver finished for her. "I guess it's better this way," he said meditatively a moment later.

"Oh, come _on_! Can't they get us back? How can you tell where we're going?"

"I know enough to check takeoff time. It was practically due anyhow, so we'll float into the vicinity of Earth at about the right time to be picked up."

He went on to explain something of the tremendous cost in fuel necessary to make more than minor corrections to their course. Even though the Patrol ship could easily catch the slow freighter, bringing along enough fuel to head back would be something else again.

"We'll just have to ride it out," he said sympathetically. "The ship is provisioned according to law, and you were probably going back anyhow."

"I didn't expect to so soon."

"Yeah, you were pretty lucky. They'll think you're a marvel to crack the case in about three hours on Ganymede."

"Great!" muttered Betty. "What a lucky girl I am!"

"Yes," admitted Tolliver, "there _are_ problems. If you like, we might get the captain of that Patrol ship to legalize the situation by TV."

"I can see you're used to sweeping girls off their feet," she commented sourly.

"The main problem is whether you can cook."

Betty frowned at him.

"I'm pretty good with a pistol," she offered, "or going over crooked books. But cook? Sorry."

"Well, one of us had better learn, and I'll have other things to do."

"I'll think about it," promised the girl, staring thoughtfully at the deck.

Tolliver anchored himself in a seat and grinned as he thought about it too.

_After a while_, he promised himself, _I'll explain how I cut the fuel flow and see if she's detective enough to suspect that we're just orbiting Ganymede!_