The Grays fitted her perfectly. A bit revealing, perhaps, but her figure was still good—very good, as a matter of fact. Not a speck of dirt or tarnish. Her DeLameters were fully charged. Her tremendous Lens flamed brilliantly upon her wrist. She looked—and felt—ready. She could hit absolute max in a fraction of a microsecond. If she had to get really tough, she would. She sent out a call.
"Helen of Lyrane! I know they've got you around here somewhere, and, if any of your guards try to screen out this thought, I'll burn their brains out. Clarrissa of Sol III calling. Come in, Helen!"
"Clarrissa!" This time there was no interference. A world of welcome was in every nuance of the thought. "Where are you?"
"High up, at—" Clarrissa gave her position. "I'm in my speedster, so can get to anywhere on the planet in minutes. More important, where are you? And why?"
"In jail, in my own—the Elder Person's—office." Queens should have palaces, but Lyrane's ruler did not. Everything was strictly utilitarian. "The tower on the corner, remember? On the top floor. 'Why' is too long to discuss now—I'd better tell you as much as possible of what you should know, while there is time."
"Time? Are you in danger?"
"Yes. Ladora would have killed me long ago if it had dared. My following grows less daily, the Boskonians stronger. The guards have already summoned help. They are coming now, to take me."
"That's what they think!" Clarrissa had already reached the scene. She had exactly the velocity she wanted. She slanted downward in a screaming dive. "Can you tell whether they're limbering up any of that ack-ack around the office, or not?"
"I don't believe so—I don't feel any such thoughts."
"QX. Get away from the window." If they hadn't started already, they never would start, the Red Lensman was deadly sure of that.