Their radios recorded Wass' laughter. "I'm at the switchboard now,
Martin. I--"
There was a tinkle of breaking glass, breaking faceplate.
The grate groaned upward and stopped.
Wass babbled incoherently into the radio for a moment, and then he
began to scream.
Martin switched off his radio, sick.
He turned it on again when they reached the opening in the metal wall.
"Well?"
"I've been trying to get you," Rodney said, frantically. "Why didn't
you answer?"
"We couldn't do anything for him."