"If you desire them. You and your son will have to stay in my quarters—there's no place for guests in the colony. But your crew will have to stay here." The Colonel snorted. "They will, all right." He turned sharply to the pilot who had just come in. "We're leaving for the colony," he said, his voice regaining some semblance of control. "We'll have a hand radio with us, of course, and I'd like a man here on the receiver all the time." The pilot nodded. "Any idea how long—?" "None in the least. Maybe a day, maybe six weeks. I couldn't even guess, at this point." He shot a venomous glance at Anson Torm. Tuck watched the men miserably. The conference had been a failure—obviously. He knew the Colonel had counted on establishing some sort of liaison on the first meeting, some grounds for understanding— and it appeared that he had failed utterly. And Torm had said that unless an understanding was reached, there wouldn't be any mines left to work! Tuck felt a chill run down his spine.
