The pilot was wiry and gripped Allyn's throat, cutting off air. He pounded the face above him with clenched fists but, inexorably, the fingers tightened. Allyn's sight dimmed, and sound became distorted. The pilot felt him weaken, and shifted for a harder grip. In that respite Allyn drew his knees up, lashed out with his feet, sending the other floundering back. Before he could recover Allyn leaped forward, bringing his hands down in a rabbit punch that knocked the man unconscious. Groggily Allyn rose. His wavering sights caught the red flutter of a cloak in the open door. He charged, head lowered, across the intervening space, caught an incoming Gard flush in mid-section, knocking him into his companions. Catching himself against the door, Allyn pulled back, snapping it shut. Breathing hard he made unsteadily for the pilot seat. His long fingers moved over the dials of the control panel, and the craft rose smoothly into the air. He looked out the window, and saw the recovered Gard raising weapons against them. A spurt of flame missed the motor. The second was true to its target, but short. They were too high to be reached now. He saw the scarlet clad figures make for their gyros and he jabbed the dials for maximum speed and height. "Bring the Senior's keys from his pouch," he told Marva over his shoulder, "and take their guns." He heard her chains rattle as she moved, and his lips set. * * * * * In a moment she was beside him with the keys and guns. He set the dials to automatic, laid the guns on the co-pilot seat and turned to free her. The irons fell from her wrists and throat. Where they had been the silken skin was angry red. Hard eyed he took the chains and snapped them on the unconscious Senior. He similarly released Keeven, who was beginning to stir, and fettered the pilot with his irons. Back to the controls he went. From the view-plate he saw the Forbidden Area black and pock-marked below. Ahead, at the horizon, sky and earth pulsed gold-orange. The Barrier! Nothing living had been so close before. Long it stretched, from horizon to horizon, a thin stream of living light. They winged closer. Allyn felt his hands grow clammy on the controls. Inherent terror sat leaden in his stomach. The whispered warnings of the elders, thought lost in childhood, came to weird life in his mind, making him want to turn, even back to the knives of the medics rather than face the strange glow ahead. He half-turned the ship, and saw, like birds in the distance, the formations of Gyro-Gard. "Allyn," Marva whispered, her voice a plea. He turned his head. Her dark eyes begged him, and he moved the controls--straight ahead--to the light.... His communication board glowed. Quickly he answered to see the black and scarlet robed Junior Gard on the visiscreen. "Surrender!" was the cold command, "or you die in the flame!"