"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. * * * * * She came within range--her range--of the guns. She was in time. Several gunners were running toward their stations. None of them arrived. The speedster leveled off and stuck its hard nose into and almost through the indicated room; reinforced concrete, steel bars, and glass showering abroad as it did so. The port snapped open. As Helen leaped in, Clarrissa practically threw Ladora out. "Bring Ladora back!" Helen demanded. "I shall have its life!" "Nix!" Clarrissa snapped. "I know everything that she does. We've other fish to fry, my dear." The massive door clanged shut. The speedster darted forward, straight through the solid concrete wall. That small vessel, solidly built of beryllium alloys, had been designed to take brutal punishment. She took it. Out in open space, Clarrissa went free, leaving the artificial gravity at normal. Helen stood up, took Clarrissa's hand, and shook it gravely and strongly; a gesture at which the Red Lensman almost choked. Helen of Lyrane had changed even less than had the Earthwoman. She was still six feet tall; erect, taut, springy, and poised. She didn't weigh a pound more than the one-eighty she had scaled twenty-odd years ago. Her vivid auburn hair showed not one strand of gray. Her eyes were as clear and as proud; her skin almost as fine and firm. "You are, then, alone?" In spite of her control, Helen's thought showed relief.