Conroy stepped inside. No one was visible in the outer room; no sound was heard except the continual chattering of the cybernetic governors that operated the satellite. He let the door close and activated the lock. No one would get in until he was ready to let them in, now; it was a circuit known only to the builders of the station and the high officers.
The first thing was to find Merrill, and anyone else who might be in the control center. Conroy knew what he had to do: take charge of the control center, broadcast his terms to the Space-Station and to Earth, and wait for them to agree to release him. If they called his bluff—
He shivered. No, they'd never do that. If he threatened to destroy the Station they'd grant him freedom without hesitation. In a situation like that, you don't try to call a madman's bluff.
Conroy slid open the door that led to the inner room that was the nerve center of the giant station. He looked in—and gasped.
Commandant Naylor and several other men in high-rank uniforms lay bound in one corner of the cabin. And at the controls of the Station was Commissioner Merrill.
He seemed to be chuckling to himself. Conroy paused by the door and watched, horror-stricken.
Merrill had activated the long-dormant bombay units, and, according to the pattern on the radar screen above his head, he had swung a fusion-bomb onto the hoists.