Then suddenly the lights blazed on in the control cabin and the corridor outside. An attention signal buzzed in Greg's earphones. "All right, Hunter, it's all over," a voice grated. "You've got five minutes to get down to No. 3 lock. If you make us come get you, you'll get hurt."
"I'll chance it," Greg snapped back. "Come on up."
"We're through fooling," the voice said. "You'd better get down here. And bring your brother with you."
"Sure," Greg said. "Start holding your breath."
The contact broke for a moment, then clicked on again. This time it was another voice. "We've got Johnny Coombs down here," it said. "You want him to stay alive, you start moving. Without your stunner."
Greg chewed his lip. They could be bluffing ... but they might not be. "I want to see Johnny," he said.
On the control panel a viewscreen flickered to life. "Take a look, then," the voice said in his earphones.
They had Johnny, all right. A burly guard was holding his good arm behind his back. Greg could see the speaker wires jerked loose from his helmet.
"It's up to you," the voice said. "You've got three minutes. If you're not down here by then, this helmet comes off and your friend goes out the lock. It's quick that way, but it's not very pleasant."
Johnny was shaking his head violently; the guard wrenched at his arm, and the miner's face twisted in pain. "Two minutes," the voice said.