He peeked around the edge of the control board. The three Marscorp captives were floating up the companionway from below, heat-guns in their hands!
"Keep your hands off those controls, Reb," warned one of them. "This ship's staying right here."
"Wasn't there another one in this gang, Robbo?" asked another.
Tyruss twisted in his chair and reached for his heat-gun. One of the Marscorp men rayed him through the throat.
Cautiously, Jonner poked the muzzle of his heat-gun around the edge of the control board. Methodically, he shot the three Marscorp men, one by one. They died without discovering the source of the invisible heat-beam that cut them down.
Tyruss was dead. Cursing, Jonner went below, heat-gun in hand. On the centerdeck, Wessfeld's body floated. Wessfeld was dead, burned through the chest. Aron was not there.
He found all three of the others, locked in the airlock, without spacesuits. Jonner watched Aron suspiciously as they emerged.
"What happened?" he demanded of Aron.
"I don't know," disclaimed Aron. "They woke us up. They had heat-guns then. Wessfeld tried to reach his, and they shot him. Stein and Farlan were already in the airlock when they brought me down."
"Stein, were you and Farlan constantly in sight of each other, as ordered?" asked Jonner, watching Aron. Did Aron's eyes widen apprehensively?