He lurched into a stumbling run and headed for the ruined city. In the metropolis the destruction was even more terrible. Ray guns had leveled every structure to the ground. Dead Lyrians lay on all sides. Every labor-saving device which had been constructed through Standish's efforts had been shattered.
But an instant later, in the midst of this wreckage, he saw a familiar figure stagger toward him. Ga-Marr!
The Emperor's son's face was caked with blood and his clothing was torn to shreds, but he managed to gasp a single word:
"Water...!"
Standish dispatched Dar-Ley back to the Phantom for a canteen, then tore off his coat and rolled it into a pillow, forcing Ga-Marr to rest his head upon it. But when the Lyrian struggled up on one elbow and drank thirstily from Dar-Ley's canteen, Standish choked out the question that was uppermost in his mind.
"Thalia! Where is she?"
Ga-Marr's voice was a sob. "Drum Faggard! He surprised us with an entire fleet while you were gone. He kidnaped my father, and he took Thalia."
A blur rose up before Standish's eyes. "And the others?" he demanded. "The rest of your people? Can it be they all are dead?"
Ga-Marr shook his head. "They fled to the hills. I alone remained here because I knew you would return."
It was time, Standish realized, for action. But what action? His fleet was gone, all his work destroyed. Even the girl he had come to love had been taken from him. He turned and stared helplessly at the black hulled Phantom resting on its mooring platform. Powerful as that ship was, he knew it was not enough. He might raid more Sirian ships, destroy more transports, but what would it avail him. He had played his hand, and he had lost. He was up against a blank wall.