There was complete darkness with all belt lights out, but he groped his way to the Connie Dowst had been patching, felt for his helmet, and put his own against it. He yelled, "Do you hear me?" "Yes." Then he asked, "Why did you patch me?" It was a perfect opening. "Because we don't want to kill you. Listen. We have all but four of you. Understand?" "Yes. What will you do with us?" "Treat you as prisoners--if you behave. Get on your communicator and tell those four men to surrender. Tell them to come to the boats, with lights on. Tell them we'll give them five minutes. If they don't come, we'll hunt them with rockets. Make that clear." "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 counteroffer. 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 his offer. "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."