"He's hardly had time," demurred Lark. "But _something's_ up--no doubt about that. Ah! Here comes someone. Perhaps now--" He lifted his voice in a shout as a soldier clad like Gary raced into the corridor. "Hello there, you!" The Magogean warrior identified the rank of his accoster and halted, saluting. "Yes, _kraedar_? Foot soldier Norad, preparing to take post, sir, in accordance with emergency alarm instructions." "Very good," approved Lark. "What is the nature of the emergency? Have you any idea?" * * * * * The private nodded. "Yes, sir. An official telecast was just issued over the diaphragm. It is a Gogean attack." "A Gogean--?" "Well, not exactly an attack, sir ... yet. Because the force barrier prevents their entering Khundru. But a mighty army of the cursed Darksiders has been spotted by our observation posts. They number in the tens of thousands. They have been seen at every gate. Apparently their army has completely encircled Khundru." "Good!" said Lark. "I mean ... er ... very good, soldier. Report to your post as ordered. Oh, what _is_ your post?" "Main control tower, sir. The ultrawave cannon." "Indeed?" Lark's eyes lighted sharply. "And where lies this tower?" "Why, at the lowest level, of course, sir--" began the _tramir_ ... then stopped abruptly, suspicion darkening his gaze. His voice changed tone and one hand crept furtively toward the sidearm holstered at his side. "But--but how is it that _you_ a _kraedar_, do not know--" "That," said Lark softly, "is a question you must ask your ancestors, _tramir_." And his hand, too, streaked to his belt. Before the startled warrior could draw, a shaft of orange lightning seared the life from his body. It was a charred carcass when it hit the floor. Gary said regretfully, "Poor devil! He was only doing his duty as he saw it." "War," reminded Lark, "is war. The only good enemy is a _dead_ enemy. We know where we stand now. The Gogeans are on deck as they promised to be, and we know where the control tower is. Now if we can just lift that barrier shield--" "We must get the girls first," reminded Gary. "I think we're almost there. Come on." He was right. They sped through a few more chambers, then emerged into an apartment more elaborately furnished than any seen so far. Into this they shouldered rudely. At sight of them a gross figure, a mountainous mass of jelly parodying Magogean manhood, came mincing up to them on swollen feet emitting shrill little bleats of horror and dismay. "_Kraedar! Tramir!_ A thousand pardons, but these are the _women's_ quarters. You have no right here." "Beat it, capon!" grunted Lark, and with a twist of his foot sent the piping eunuch sprawling. He lifted his voice. "Penny! Nora! Where are you?" At his cry a flurry sounded from an adjacent chamber as curtains flung apart and Penny and Nora ran to greet them. They still wore the peasant rags in which they had been sold.