They paused long enough to stop at the nurse's office at the spaceport for a heavy shot of gravanol and a thorough bracing with wide adhesive tape. Then they made their way to the storage space of the spaceport where they entered their small ship. Channing was about to send the power lever home when the figure of Keg Johnson waved him to stop.
Keg ran up to the space lock and handed in a paper.
"You're it," he said. "Good luck, Channings."
It was another message from Hellion Murdoch. It said, bluntly:
To Donald Channing,
Director of Communications:
Considerable difficulty has been experienced in transmitting messages to the interested parties. I desire a free hand in telling all who care, the particulars of my insurance.
Since your Relay Station is in a position to control all communications between the worlds, I am offering you the option of either surrendering the Station to me, or of fighting me for its possession. I am confident that you will see the intelligent course; an unarmed station in space is no match for a fully armed and excellently manned cruiser.
Your answer will be expected in five days.
Allison (Hellion) Murdoch.