"If there's any trouble, you'll be responsible for it," he said to
Manning. "The men can look out for themselves, but the flyers are
Company property."
Manning scowled impatiently and bent to sign the papers.
"Where's Mara?" Rynason asked.
"She's already taken one of the flyers out," Harcourt said. "Left ten
minutes ago. We've got her screen in the next room." He waved a hand
toward the door in the rear of the room.
Rynason went on back and found the live set. The screen, monitored from
a camera on the flyer, showed the foothills of the southern mountains
over which Mara was flying. They were bare and blunt; the rock
outcroppings which thrust up from the Flat had been weathered smooth in
the passage of years. Mara was passing over a low range and on to the
desert beyond.
Rynason picked up the mike. "Mara, this is Lee; we just got here. Have
you found them yet?"
Her voice came thinly over the speaker. "Not yet. I thought I saw some
movement in one of the passes, but the light wasn't too good.
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