He should have known better. He admitted that, now. Listening to the spacemen in Trixon and Cleg would have saved his skin. They told him that Flormaseron was a hellhole where Creation had run mad. The only thing was, even they hadn't known how bad it was. Clark Travis worked the walnut stud of his stil disintegrator hopefully, but when it sputtered he gave it up. The arklings were coming for him. Through the opening in the stone traceries of the ancient doorway, he saw the red aura that floated