But a harsh, unfamiliar voice slashed in upon him—a voice from atop the high, flat ledge that lined the walls: "Drop it, chitza! Drop the light-lance!"
From a different angle, another voice rang: "Quick! Drop it!"
A third: "Just one false move...."
An icy knot gathered in the pit of Haral's stomach. He let the lance fall.
To his right, a Pervod rose into view upon the ledge, ray-gun murderously ready. A squat, tentacled Thorian appeared to his left. Sounds told him others were getting up behind him.
Desperately, he looked to Kyla.
But she stood rigid, fists clenched at her sides. The ray-pistol he'd given her had disappeared.
He turned back to the Pervod. "Well, finish it!" he cried. "You're here to burn us down. Get it done and be on your way!"
But the Pervod didn't answer.