The voice of Quorn yelled over the intercom, "They're right on top of us! Hurry it up!"
Joris had thrust his way forward to the bridge. He was at his station and waiting before the port was closed.
"Ready for take-off! Watch yourselves!"
His hand reached out for the signal relays. And then Trehearne saw it hesitate and fall back.
From the opening door of the Communications room another voice spoke, perfectly audible at that short distance—the metallic voice of the receiver.
"We have your range. Do not attempt to take off. We have your range. Do not attempt...."
Over Joris' suddenly shrunken shoulders, through the bridge port, Trehearne saw the long slim shape of a cruiser sweep in toward a landing close beside them.
EIGHTEEN
Kerrel's face appeared on the small screen. There was no need now for the ultra-wave and the ordinary visiphone unit had been cut in. Edri and Joris confronted him. Trehearne stood in the doorway, listening. Behind him were the rescued exiles, and black despair was on them all.