Only then, flashing shapes lanced down out of the skies to the north. Men dropped from discs onto carrier-tops, clamping their capes across the vision-slits.
Vehicles ground to a halt. Crews stumbled out, hands high in panic and surrender.
Craig surged to his feet; sent his own disc climbing.
Too late. For now saucers hung above him, too, hemming him in ... saucers ridden by Bukal's lean, bronzed raiders.
And there was Bukal.
"Craig, friend—!" he shouted. "Hold, Craig Nesom!"
Craig stood rigid atop his disc.
But then the other was beside him, waving and laughing. "Can you forgive me, Craig? Without this blow you've struck, without the firing-sounds to guide us, we'd never have caught up with this column."
"And ... Narla—?"
Bukal swept the whole sky with his gesture. "Go to her, Earthman! After this night's work I'd even give you Zenaor!"