He used the stil-gun twice more before they reached the big chamber at the top of the tower. Facing death, taking risks, using the muscles of his space-hardened body, Travis felt the elixir of battle pound in his veins. He was a person again, not just a thing dragged along by the last woman of the Nekkalad.
Nuala went by him as he stood in the doorway. She raced to banks of buttons spread across the western wall of the room. Her fingers slammed down, played like the digits of a Venusian pianist across the complicated keyboard.
She was just in time. The floor shuddered under their feet as the tower rocked. But the floor held. And the tower stood. Nuala threw back her head, flung wild and eerie laughter at the flat ceiling.
"By Grock, I've won! I've won!"
She put trembling fingers to her face, clawed at it, tearing strips of flesh away. Travis opened his mouth, closed it. Bit by bit, she pulled the celluvalin loose and cast it from her. She swung about, faced Travis. Once more her face was lovely, mouth warm and kissable.
"You helped me, Earth-thing. You helped me get here! I'll reward you for that!" She lifted her arms, did a girlish pirouette.
Travis growled, "What about Rudra?"
She laughed. It was like tuned glass tinkling. "Rudra himself discovered the warp-sheath. I've pulled this tower into another dimension. He can't harm us because he can't find us! Oh, Travis, my dear...."
Her hands touched his nose and mouth. Gently she removed the celluvalin, cleansed his cheeks until he stood tan and grim-lipped, the Clark Travis she first had seen in the pink barrier outside the calyx chamber.
"Now, Clark Travis ... you may kiss me!"