Jonner boosted the jets a bit and watched the terrain. "By Saturn, I almost overran it!" he exclaimed. "Deveet, smash out those ports." "Break out the ports?" repeated Deveet. "That'll depressurize the cabin!" "That's right. So you'd better be sure your spacesuit's secure." Obviously puzzled, Deveet strode up and down the cabin, knocking out its six windows with the handhooks of his spacesuit. Jonner maneuvered the plane gently, and set it on automatic. He got out of the pilot's seat and strode to the right front port. Reaching through the broken window, he pulled in a section of cable that was trailing alongside. While the baffled Deveet watched, he reeled it in until he brought up the end of it, to which was attached a fish-shaped finned metal missile. Jonner carried the cable end and the attached missile across the cabin and tossed it out the broken front port on the other side, swinging it so that the 700-mile-an-hour slipstream snapped it back in through the rearmost port like a bullet. "Pick it up and pass it out the right rear port," he commanded. "We'll have to pass it to each other from port to port. The slipstream won't let us swing it forward and through." In a few moments, the two of them had worked the missile and the cable end to the right front port and in through it. Originating above the plane, it now made a loop through the four open ports. Jonner untied the missile and tied the end to the portion which came into the cabin, making a bowline knot of the loop. Deveet picked up the missile from the floor, where Jonner had thrown it. "Looks like a spent rocket shell," he commented. "It's a signal rocket," said Jonner. "The flare trigger was disconnected." He picked up the microphone and called the _Radiant Hope_ on Phobos. "We've hooked our fish, Qoqol," he told the Martian, and laid the mike aside. "What does that mean?" asked Deveet. "Means we'd better strap in," said Jonner, suiting the action to the words. "You're in for a short trip to Phobos, Deveet." Jonner pulled back slowly on the elevator control, and the plane began a shallow climb. At 700 miles an hour, it began to attain a height at which its broad wings--broader than those of any terrestrial plane--would not support it. "I'm trying to decide," said Deveet with forced calm, "whether you've flipped your helmet." "Nope," answered Jonner. "Trolling for those fish in Mars City gave me the idea. The rest was no more than an astrogation problem, like any rendezvous with a ship in a fixed orbit, which Qoqol could figure. Remember that 6,000-mile television cable the ship's hauling? Qoqol just shot the end of it down to Mars' surface by signal rocket, we hooked on and now he'll haul us up to Phobos. He's got the ship's engine hooked onto the cable winch." The jets coughed and stopped. The plane was out of fuel. It was on momentum--to be drawn by the cable, or to snap it and fall.