"It is completed," he said. "Only the heat units remain to be tested. What now?" "Now," said Standish.... But his words were never finished. From the roof of the palace the warning siren burst into a wailing clamor. Ga-Marr's face blanched. "The Sirians!" he cried. "They'll destroy all we've done." With a single leap Standish was across to the microphone of the field amplifying system. "Wait!" his voice boomed out. "If you run, all your work will be for nothing. We still have a chance, but we must hide this ship. I want each of you to bring here every movable object you can find. Do you understand? Every movable object!" The field saw strange activity then. While the siren continued to scream out its warning, an endless procession of Lyrians raced in and out of Calthedra, carrying stone blocks, furniture, doors, articles of every description. "Looks like moving day back on Earth," Standish said to Ga-Marr with a lightness he didn't feel. His fists clenched. "We'll beat them yet." He ran for the palace. Even as he raced up the inclined ramp of the rear entrance, he saw five Sirian battle cruisers land with a roar in the central square. Inside, Standish moved swiftly to the quarters of the Emperor. The old man was leaning weakly against a chair, eyes smoldering. Without preamble the Earthman explained what he had done. Then he had barely time to leap through the doorway into the adjoining room. Heavy steps sounded in the hall. A moment later six men entered the chamber and strode belligerently to the Emperor. Five of them were Sirians. The sixth was a man of Earth—a tall broad shouldered man with a bullet head and a cruel predatory face. This was Drum Faggard. He wore the Sirian uniform and a flowing scarlet cloak hung from his shoulders. At his waist were holstered two long barreled genithode pistols. "Your mines are lying idle," Faggard snarled. "Why?" Through the crevice between the partially closed door Standish saw the Emperor shrug eloquently. "We have had troubles." "What troubles?"
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