"I thought the only mirages you could buy came in bottles," commented Torry unhappily.
"Don't be a fool," rasped the girl in a strange tone. "It is a mirage ... for Planet X. I thought you knew more since you knew Roper. But I'll stand by my agreement. All or nothing, both ways. I'd better explain. And now that you're in, try to act intelligent. I'll tell you all I can, then we'd better get this equipment to ... to my grandfather before anything else happens."
A buzzer near the metal sliding doors droned a warning. The girl's face turned upward toward a blinking red alarm light.
"I'd say something was already happening," said Torry.
"Someone's in the alley outside," gasped Tharol Sen. "It can't be the police. They wouldn't dare interfere."
"Then who?—"
"Probably Ferax of Trans-U Miners Union. Or his strong-arm squad. If they find us here with ... with that they'll kill both of us. I don't know what to do."
"Why don't you stop fooling with that silly blaster gun? Give it to me and find yourself a hole to crawl in. This is my department. Let me do the worrying."
She laughed. "I might do just that." She handed over her pop-gun. It was a typical woman's weapon, squat, flat and short-barreled. Up close it could vaporize a man, but it would have no range worth mentioning. Torry grinned at it in contempt. Motioning her out of the line of fire, he crouched behind the wrecked crates.
A heavy crash echoed through the cavern-like vaults as force was applied to the metal doors. But the doors were dur-steel, two inches thick. They held, but the interior reverberated with harsh metallic clangor. Two more blows sounded, then a lengthening silence. A circle of redness glowed incandescent on the metal, spreading over the panels like spilled paint. Waves of heat sprang outward. Heat haze danced in the cool air as visible vibrations of blinding crimson radiated from the softening door. Runnels of melting steel channeled the metal surface, dripping to spatter on floor.