ats, with lights
on. Tell them we'll give them five minutes. If they don't come, we'll hunt
them with rockets."

"They will come," the Connie said. "They don't want to die. I will do it."

Rip kept his helmet against the Connie's, but the man spoke in another
language, which Rip identified as the main Consops tongue. When he had
finished, Rip told his Planeteers to have weapons ready and to keep lights
off. Time enough for light when the Connies were all disarmed.

It didn't take five minutes. The Connie teams came quickly and willingly,
and they seemed almost glad to give up their pistols and knives. This was
not unusual. Rip had seen many Planeteer reports that spoke of the same
thing. Many Connies, it seemed, were glad to get away from the iron
Consops rule even if it meant becoming Federation prisoners.

Inside one of the snapper-boats, a light glowed. Rip put his helmet
against that of the man who had given the surrender order and demanded,
"What's that light?"

"The cruiser wants us."

Rip considered demanding that the Connie answer, then thought better of
it. He would do it himself. After all, they had hostages. The cruiser
wouldn't take any further action. He climbed into the snapper-boat and
hunted for the plug-in terminal. It fitted his own belt jack. He plugged
in and said, "Go ahead."

There was an instant of silence, then an accented voice demanded, "Why are
you speaking English?"

Rip replied formally, "This is Lieutenant Foster, Federation Special Order
Squadrons, in charge on the asteroid. Your landing party is in our hands,
as prisoners, two wounded, none dead. If you agree to withdraw, we will
send the wounded men back to you in one boat. The rest will remain here as
hostages for your good behavior."

"Stand by," the voice said. There was silence for several moments, then a
new voice said, "This is the cruiser commander. We make a counter-offer.
If you release our men and surrender to them, we will spare the lives of
you and your men."

Rip listened incredulously. The commanding officer didn't understand. He,
Rip, held the whip hand, because the lives of the Connie prisoners were in
his hands. He repeated what he had said before.

"And I repeat," the commander retorted. "Surrender or die. Choose now."

"I refuse," Rip stated flatly. "Try anything and your men will suffer, not
us."

"You are mistaken," the harsh voice said. "We will sweep the asteroid
clean with our exhaust, but this tim