The urns were facing the tower at last. Gordon dropped his bow, put out a hand, burying his fingers in the smooth flesh of Karola's nude shoulder.
"All over, all over. Jolly good fight while it lasted."
"Thor, Thor," Karola whimpered.
In another instant, the urns would thunder out their destructive fury. But the moment lingered into minutes, and still the urns were silent.
A wondering babble broke from the throats of the androids. Some of them bent and stared within the urns, where tiny green flames flickered. Those green flames should have annihilated the last of the outlaw settlement. Yet they did not.
Karola looked at Peter Gordon.
"Do you think—Thor—?"
Aava knew he was on the rock bridge now. Thor knew that Aava knew, and still he dug and battered his axe upward. He had a depression sculpted from the roof. A few more blows and—
The axe dug in. Thor pulled it loose.