He called to Shorty in a hoarse whisper. "They've got Alayna out there and that big ape is doing something to her. We've got to rush them."
"We can't. They'd mow us down before we got out the door."
"We can't let him maim her, either. I'm going out. Coming?"
"Don't be a fool!" Shorty pleaded. "We've got to use our brains. You're no good to Alayna dead."
"Yeah, you're right," Roal admitted. "What I just saw out there got me, but—if that window were only facing Sebours—"
"We could burn a hole through the wall. That might be our best bet. You could nail him in the back—provided a Martian didn't poke a lance through and blast your hand off the minute you got it through."
"Yeah, that wouldn't work."
Alayna's scream came once more and her cry of, "Roal, Roal—"
The sound quickened his pulses to maddening pace. So she had learned he was there. That polished door was swinging slowly again in the motion of the air. An inspiration seized Roal. Once he had seen an outlaw perform an incredible feat with a flame lance. If it could be done now—
It was dangerous, but he moved decisively to the window. It was the only way to save Alayna, a reflective shot from that wooden door panel.