waited, covered by the edge of the hatchway. It might be Johnny
returning, or maybe even Tom ... but there was no sign of recognition.
Whoever it was was coming silently....

Then a beam of light flared from a headlamp, and he saw the blue crackle
of a stunner. He jerked back as the beam bounced off the metal walls.
Then he was firing point blank down the corridor, his stunner on a tight
beam, a deadly pencil of violent energy. He heard a muffled scream and a
bulk loomed up in front of him, crashed to the deck at his feet.

He fired again. Another crash, a shout, and then the sound of footsteps
retreating. He waited, his heart pounding, but there was nothing more.

The first attempt on the control cabin had failed.

* * * * *

Five minutes later the second attempt began. This time there was no
warning sound. A sudden, ear-splitting crash, a groan of tortured metal,
and the barricaded hatchway glowed dull red. Another crash followed. The
edge of the hatch split open, pouring acrid Murexide fumes into the
cabin. A third explosion breached the door six inches; Greg could see
headlamps in the corridor beyond.

He fired through the crack, pressing down the stud until the stunner
scorched his hand. Then he heard boots clanging up the other corridor.
He pressed back against the wall, waited until the sounds were near,
then threw open the hatch. For an instant he made a perfect target, but
the raiders did not fire. The stunner buzzed in his hand, and once again
the footfalls retreated.

They _were_ being careful!

Silence then, and blackness. Minutes passed ... five, ten.... Greg
checked the time again. It was over twenty minutes since Tom had talked
to him. What had happened? Whatever Tom had planned must have misfired,
or something would have happened by now. For a moment he considered
leaving his post and starting down the dark corridor to search ... but
where to search? There was nothing to do but wait and hope for a
miracle.

Then suddenly the lights blazed on in the control cabin and the corridor
outside. An attention signal buzzed in Greg's earphones. "All right,
Hunter, it's all over," a voice grated. "You've got five minutes to get
down to No. 3 lock. If you make us come get you, you'll get hurt."

"I'll chance it," Greg snapped back. "Come on up."

"We're through fooling," the voice said. "You'd better get down here.
And bring your brother with you."

"Sure," Greg said. "St