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Accordingly it seemed to Misk, and I concurred, that an ultimatum should be issued to Sarm's troops and that, if possible, the ship should not be used in battle. If we had used it immediately, decisively, we might have wrought great damage, but neither of us wished to take the enemy by devastating surprise if victory might be won without bloodshed. We were considering this matter when suddenly without warning one wall of Misk's compartment seemed suddenly to blur and lift and then silently to vanish into powder, so light and fine that some of it drifted upward to be withdrawn through the ventilator shaft through which used air was drawn from the compartment. Misk seized me and with the harrowing speed of the priest-king leaped across the room, buffeting the case I had occupied ten yards across the chamber, bent down and flung up the trap and, carrying me, darted into the passage below. My senses were reeling but now in the distance I could hear cries and shouts, the screaming of the dying, the unutterably horrifying noises of the broken, the torn and maimed. Misk clung to the wall below the trap door, holding me to his thorax. "What is it?" I demanded. - (Priest-Kings of Gor, Chapter )