"I swear I shall not go back on my word. Jean is the only thing in life I love; I'll do anything for her." Vandor's words were bitter and brooding.
"All right." The Falcon nodded. "I'll speak your pretty little speech. Not for you; I wouldn't give you water in hell. But for Jean; who at least hates and fights cleanly and openly." He spat. "Now get me out of here before I change my mind."
Jason Vandor stepped forward, tossed a key into Varga's lap. His concealed hand came from beneath his robe, and a gun glinted dully in his fist.
"Cross me, Falcon," he said quietly, "and for every minute of mental torture you give me, I'll give you a year of the same."
The Falcon unlocked his chains, stood erect. "I'll speak your piece," he answered. "But don't make threats."
He walked before the menace of the gun through the open door, followed the line of radi-lights down the stone corridor. He felt nothing but a dull apathy within his mind, and he cared nothing for the future. He knew there was no escape, and the knowledge left him unemotional.
But then the thought came that Jean had fought on his side, and he felt warmness spreading through his heart. There was a gulf between them, a space that would never be spanned. Yet he felt closer to the girl now than he had felt toward any person other than his brother in years.
"This way, Falcon," Jason Vandor said.
They walked a corridor, turned right, entered the vizi-beam room where operators sat before the machines that connected with all planets.