"It's automatic," he told her. "When the air pressure's equal on both sides, it opens. I'll show you."
Just as he reached for the controls, the door came open with a violent crash. Hamlin stood framed in the doorway, blaster gun in hand.
"I hadn't counted on you, Coran," he said. The gun did not waver. "Don't reach for that gun."
Coran relaxed and stared at his opponent. "You look quite different without the plastic mask," he observed. Hamlin was older than he had looked in the photographs, but noticeably the same man, despite lines of strain which did not show in either picture.
Hamlin smiled wolfishly. "My pictures don't flatter me, do they? The problem is what you've done with my men. You are becoming a nuisance, Coran. I'll have to kill you, of course, but I'd like to know how you managed this switch."
Coran was playing for time. "I'll make a deal with you," he said. "I'm curious to know why you pulled that Martian plague stunt with Gerda."
Hamlin laughed. "I recognized her at once, even though she had changed since I last saw her. Ten years is a long time when you're kids, but I'd seen a picture of her since then. When I saw you with her, I knew you were up to something. I wanted to keep you away from her till I could deal with you. The rest was easy, just a little grease and aluminum powder. The doctor was scared to death...."
Gerda was staring at her brother through the space helmet. "You did know me, Ken?"
Hamlin shot her a contemptuous glance. "You little fool," he snapped. "You should never have come here. I don't know what I'm going to do with you."