Passing through the inner door of the station’s air lock, they found Compartment A deserted.
“Brand my gyro, where is everyone?” Chow said.
As if in answer, the door leading into the next compartment suddenly opened. A shaven-headed Oriental, clad in a black military uniform, en-170 COSMIC ASTRONAUTS
tered. Several other Asiatics followed, all clutching automatic pistols.
“Greetings, gentlemen,” said their leader suavely. He added with a mirthless chuckle, “Perhaps I can answer your questions. The station crew are already prisoners. It was one of my own men who sent you that call for help!”
Tom and his companions were stunned.
“Who are you?” Tom asked icily.
“Suffice it to say that we are now the possessors of your famous outpost in space.”
“Oh yes?” Bud blurted out angrily. “Well, you won’t be for very long! As soon as Fearing Island realizes the wheel isn’t sending the proper check signals, there’ll be American spacemen swarming all over this place!”
“They’ll have you sneakin’ hoss thieves roped and hawg-tied so fast it’ll make your heads spin!” Chow added threateningly.
The Oriental’s lips curled. “So sorry to disappoint you, gentlemen. Your rocket base will not learn of the space wheel’s capture. You see, I have already forced the station crew to return to their regular communication posts. And each man knows he will die a very unpleasant death if he attempts to betray our presence!”
Tom and the other astronauts were chilled by their captor’s ruthless tone.
Felix Wong pleaded with him in Cantonese, but it was of no avail.
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