Even the pirates based on some of the bigger Asteroids had to depend upon a few renegade Earthmen to keep their ships in running order. And if one went blah away from base, it was a gone ship as far as they were concerned. Probably the trouble that had forced Tar Norn down on Callisto had been a minor matter that any Earthman could have taken in his stride. But to Tar Norn it meant a new ship or nothing. The thought of ships reminded him of the freighters. "Cap," he asked Wayne, "the freighters been searched thoroughly?" Wayne nodded. "Rocket tubes and all. Even broke open the ore drums. I presume you'll want them to clear on schedule?" Director Barrow nodded. "The crews?" he asked. "In the search or standing by?" "Standing by for departure as usual, Director. A few men one way or the other--" Barrow nodded, glancing at the chronometer. Mart knew what he was thinking. Less than half an hour now. And, unless the searchers by some miracle found Leah Barrow, it would all be over before the ten o'clock clearance of the first freighter. And the freighters hadn't missed a clearance in ten years. The carrier wave hummed again. "Central Communications reporting. Most searchers in the town have reported in. No results. Those outside reaching points three miles out." The communicator faded. Mart clenched his fists against the futility of that search. Three miles! The strong Venusian, in the light gravity of Callisto, probably had eight or ten hours of darkness to carry his burden. He could easily have covered twenty to forty miles, in any direction. Possibly even more. And the chance of an autogiro-- Obviously, Wayne had been thinking the same thing. "He timed his arrival," he said bitterly. "He gave us less than an hour. He'd certainly have put her outside walking range within that length of time. And with all the caves around, thousands of them, would he have put her where a giro could spot anything?" Mart glanced at Barrow. The Director was sitting as immobile as a statue. His eyes were closed and every muscle of his thin face was tense. Probably he was trying not to look at the chronometer on the wall. It was nine-fifteen. The office door opened and three uniformed mechanics from the field stood in the doorway. The foremost of them saluted. "This entire building has been searched twice except this office. I presume--" Director Barrow opened his eyes and stood up. "Don't presume anything. Search here, too." The men came in and began a detailed but fruitless search. Nobody spoke until they left. The chronometer said twenty minutes after nine now. Ten minutes to go, if the timer had been accurately set. But could it have been set wrong? Venusians were lousy mechanics. Maybe-- * * * * *