Edri threw his arms around the man who came first over the rim. He had not been there as long as the others and the stamp was not so deep on him. He turned and shouted at his mates to hurry. His beard and his unkempt hair blew in the wind and his voice was wild. Edri cried to him, "No time for talk now, Arrin! Is that all of you?" It was. The line of bearded scarecrows hastened toward the _Mirzim_. Ready hands helped them in. The voice of Quorn yelled over the intercom, "They're right on top of us! Hurry it up!" Joris had thrust his way forward to the bridge. He was at his station and waiting before the port was closed. "Ready for take-off! Watch yourselves!" His hand reached out for the signal relays. And then Trehearne saw it hesitate and fall back. From the opening door of the Communications room another voice spoke, perfectly audible at that short distance--the metallic voice of the receiver. "_We have your range. Do not attempt to take off. We have your range. Do not attempt._..." Over Joris' suddenly shrunken shoulders, through the bridge port, Trehearne saw the long slim shape of a cruiser sweep in toward a landing close beside them. EIGHTEEN Kerrel's face appeared on the small screen. There was no need now for the ultra-wave and the ordinary visiphone unit had been cut in. Edri and Joris confronted him. Trehearne stood in the doorway, listening. Behind him were the rescued exiles, and black despair was on them all. Kerrel regarded Edri and Joris with a weary hatred. He seemed to have learned that being an agent of the Council had its rough side. But there was no slightest hint of leniency in his tone. "The gun crew has orders to open fire in exactly fifteen minutes," he said. "You have that long to clear your ship, bringing with you neither weapons nor personal gear of any sort." He repeated, "Fifteen minutes precisely." Joris looked at him with red and sunken eyes. Twenty years of age had come upon him in the last few minutes. He could not seem to bring himself to speak. Edri's hands were clenched so tightly that the fingers were bone white. They moved back and forth, seeking something to strike and not finding it. He too had become old. "Fourteen minutes," said Kerrel, without emotion. "You're wasting time." Edri turned abruptly and thrust his way blindly past Trehearne, who caught and held him in the doorway. "Let go," said Edri viciously and cursed him. "That ravine is deep. I can step off into it now as well as later. I won't be taken back." "Hold on," said Trehearne. A sudden wild hope had come to him. He lifted his voice. "Kerrel! Kerrel, can you hear me?" He was out of visual range of the screen. "Yes, Trehearne, I hear you." "Then listen! Tell your men to hold their fire. We have Shairn aboard!" Joris' head came up sharply. Edri stopped fighting. And in the screen Kerrel's mirrored face went through the shadings of surprise, shock, then understanding and a wry mirth.