"So it's you, Mallory ..." he began, stopping in amazement. "Hey, you!" he shouted at Greg. "Who are you? How did you get in that cell?"
Greg flipped a hand in greeting. "Pleasant evening, isn't it?"
The guard grabbed for the door, but he did not reach the bars. Some force stopped him six inches away. It could not be seen, could not be felt, but his straining against it accomplished nothing.
"Mallory and I are leaving," Greg told the guard. "We don't like it here. Too stuffy."
The guard lifted a whistle and blew a blast. Feet pounded outside. A prisoner yelled from one of the cells. Another catcalled. Instantly the ship was in an uproar. The convicts took up the yammering, shaking the bars on their doors.
"Let's get started," Greg said to Mallory. "Hold tight."
Blackness engulfed Mallory. He felt a peculiar twisting wrench. And then he was standing in the control room of a ship and Gregory Manning and another man were smiling at him. White light poured down from a cluster of globes. Somewhere in the ship engines purred with the hum of power. The air was fresh and pure, making him realize how foul and stale the air of the prison ship had been.
Greg held out his hand. "Welcome to our ship."
Mallory gripped his hand, blinking in the light. "Where am I?"
"You are on the Invincible, five million miles off Callisto."