The point bit in, even as the Martian tried to throw up a warding arm. What might have been a shout came out as a rush of blood and bubbling air.
The fala tottered, coughing out his life. Down the corridor, the Ganymedan whirled.
Jarl snatched the ray-gun from the toppling guard's holster. His voice rasped, low-keyed and tense: "Don't make me kill you, ktar! I want only freedom, not your life!"
The kroy's eyes flicked down to the leveled gun. He stopped short—stiff, silent.
"Back here!" Jarl clipped. "Back in my cell...."
Wordless, dead-white face a chalky mask, the kroy slithered past him.
"Take him with you!" Jarl gestured to the fallen fala guard.
The ktar bent. His pseudopods locked onto the dead Martian's shoulders. He dragged the corpse out of the corridor, into the cell.
Jarl swept up the wave-pencil key from where it had fallen as the fala died. Tight-drawn as a Uranian tal-string, gun still lined on the Ganymedan's neuro-plexus, he jerked the cell door shut and slid the wave-pencil into its slot beside the lock.