They were starting to look scared. The seriousness of the situation was sinking in.

"If Stahl has Level Four, then we're cut off from the comm center, and ..."

"And they're cut off from us and the loading bay."

Kinsman nodded. "Which means that half our force can't get through to our escape route back to Selene."

"Jesus!"

Half turning on the bench. Kinsman touched the phone button. "Comm center," he called.

Swiftly he outlined the situation to the men at the communications center.

"Yessir, we can see them on the monitor screens here," answered the officer in charge. "They've got guns, all right. And they're starting to break out some of the emergency pressure suits."

"That's what I thought," Kinsman said. "Turn off their air."

"Sir?"

"Tell our guys at the power station to pump the air out of Level Four. In fifteen minutes they'll all be unconscious down there."

"Not if they're in pressure suits."

Kinsman said, "There's only a handful of suits down there. Not enough for all thirty-three of them."

"But they've got three of our guys in there, too. One of them seems to be hurt pretty bad. We've got to try to get him to sick bay."

Kinsman hesitated. "Put me on the P.A. system for Level Four only. Patch in their answers to this phone."

"Yessir."

The hatch at the far side of the gym swung open and a young officer burst through. His coveralls were stained with sweat as he lurched crazily toward Kinsman, trying to run in the low gravity. "Sir ... I got up here . . . fast's I could." 453

Kinsman recognized the voice; the fear also showed in his eyes. "All right, all right. Take it easy. Calm down. Just what happened on Level Four?"

"I ... Hard to say. Everything happened so fast. We were standing guard outside the hatch between the mess hall and officers' country. They just broke through the hatch. Popped the explosive bolts. Knocked us flat on our asses. Never had a chance. . . . Shot Polanski while he was lying there—right through his chest!"

"How'd you get away?"

One of the young officers handed the kid a cup of steaming coffee. Another was searching through the medical kit that he had opened on the table.

"The blast from the hatch knocked me behind a table." He took the cup in both hands; still the coffee sloshed from his trembling. "They didn't see me the first couple seconds. I got up and emptied my dartgun at them. Jumbled 'em up enough. They sort of fell over each other and ducked down. I ran out of the galley and then went up the ladder to Level Five. I sealed the hatch behind me."

"Okay, fine. You did the right thing," Kinsman said soothingly.

The kid gulped at the coffee. "I saw Polanski die. They just shot him , . . never gave him a chance." His face was flushed. The officer with the medical kit took out a hypospray syringe.

"It's all right. Everything's under control," Kinsman lied. To the officer sitting next to him he ordered, "Find another phone, fast. Get our men standing by the hatches to disarm all the explosive bolts."