"Good reflexes," Hazard thought: "just the sort Sarge appreciated when the brain behind them could keep up."
He checked his Kruger in its holster. It felt good in his grip. 'No', he told himself. 'Not just yet. Not yet.'
A brilliant light threw their shadows against the far wall and vanished. The office and its contents were gone.
He was back on Geiger Seven and his right hand was cold—so cold like the night after Doublenight. Where was the Sarge?