Fifteen

Each time the crawler lurched, McCade thought he was going to die. He had the worst hangover he'd ever experienced. Sitting next to him, Rico was cheerful enough as he conned the huge machine over, around, and through the frequent obstacles. Outside somewhere Baron Lif rode with his troops. And if his constant chatter on the radio was any guide, the Lakorian noble was in fine fettle. McCade consoled himself by reflecting on their excellent progress. With Lif's scouts ranging far ahead and warning them of the worst hazards, their speed had picked up considerably. Meanwhile the green dot still glowed steadily on the nav screen. But it was close now and with each passing hour it grew slightly larger. McCade wondered if he'd live to get there . . . or if it really mattered. He massaged his throbbing temples and yawned. Elaborately informing Rico that a nap was in order, he headed for a bunk, unaware of Rico's knowing smile or his unsympathetic chuckle.

A full rotation later, McCade felt better. In fact he felt very much better. Not only had he fully recovered from the residual effects of too much Vak, but he found they were at least halfway to their destination. Outside the crawler, a downpour obscured the video cameras as usual, but the infrared sensors showed another kind of progress as well.

Thousands of red blobs now moved along in company with the crawler. Included were not only Baron Lif's troops, but those of many other nobles as well. Hardly an hour passed without a baron, count or duke joining their informal army. Although Lif was outranked by more than half the nobility present he had still managed to retain overall control through his special relationship with the humans, and his own political skill. Not an easy feat since many present had more experience in fighting against Zorta. McCade remembered vividly the night attack on the slave tractor. No doubt about it, there were some very tough folks out there.

Nonetheless by tactfully referring to himself as "Military Coordinator," the Baron had nudged, maneuvered, wheedled, and cajoled the disparate forces into a semblance of military order. McCade couldn't help but admire Lif's organizational skill.

Rico just shook his head and said, "He'd fit right in on the Council, ol' sport. Likes ta talk, that one does."

By evening of the second day, Lif had suggested a halt to rest the troops and prepare for battle. The other nobles quickly agreed, most being unused to a full day in the saddle. They also agreed to a council of war, each seeing it as an opportunity to express his valuable opinions on strategy . . . and to get rip-roaring drunk.

As darkness fell, the nobles made their way to a large tent which had been erected near the crawler. McCade went too, with Van Doren at his side. Lif had suggested that, religious vows allowing, they dress formally. He wanted them to make an impression on the assembled nobility and McCade promised to do his best. So as McCade and Van Doren entered the tent, the huge marine was dressed in full black body armor, and was wearing every kind of weapon they could strap on him. A helmet with a mirrored visor completed the effect. He hovered by McCade's shoulder . . . the very image of death incarnate.

Lacking any uniform or other ceremonial garb, McCade had chosen stark simplicity. From the supplies he'd put aboard the crawler, Rico produced a new set of gray leathers in McCade's size. These, combined with shiny knee-high boots, produced a military aspect. Phil had contributed a pin in the shape of a sunburst, which he normally used to fasten his kilt. It now shone brightly on McCade's chest, either a medal or a badge of rank, whichever the observer chose to make it. Trying his best to appear both aloof and confident, McCade took his place next to Baron Lif at the circular table, which almost filled the tent's interior. The table had been his own idea, solving as it did the endless problems of rank and precedence created by such a gathering. It had amused him to borrow yet another aspect of King Arthur's legendary court.

Once all the nobles were present, and the obligatory ceremonial toasts had been drunk, Baron Lif called the meeting to order.

"Thank you for your attendance, noble friends. We are gathered on the eve of a great victory. For years the tyrant Zorta has escaped his just reward, and now he shall have it. Death!"

A resounding cheer went up, interspersed with, "Hear! Hear!" Once the cheering and applause had died down, Lif stood and turned toward McCade.

"With us tonight is a great warrior from a distant kingdom. His is a mission which would credit any knight, the rescue of a fair maiden."

There was another cheer and more applause, which Lif waved into silence.

"Through his efforts, we now stand at the threshold of victory. Friends, I ask you to honor Sir Sam McCade."

With a roar of approval the Lakorians stood and drank McCade's health. As they sat down they looked expectantly in McCade's direction.

McCade stood, and allowed his eyes to roam the circumference of the table while the silence built. Then when every eye was upon him he spoke. "My Lords, I greet you in the name of my liege, King Arthur. Though he dwells on a distant world, I assure you his heart and hopes are with us tonight. Though we are of different races, nobleblood flows through all our veins, and will soon merge and mingle to bathe the soil of your beautiful planet. Soon we will fight and perhaps die, side by side." Here McCade paused and allowed a smile to touch his lips. "But friends, it comforts me to know that if I fall and take that final march toward either heaven or hell, I shall do so in the very best of company!"

The applause was deafening and lasted for three or four minutes. When it finally died away, Baron Lif stood and said, "Well said, my friend. Now let us discuss our plan of attack."

For two hours Lif allowed the debate to ebb and flow. Proposals, strategies, and plans of all kinds were raised, discussed, and rejected by those favoring their own approaches. Throughout all of it Lif listened attentively, maintaining an uncharacteristic silence.

Meanwhile McCade had begun to wonder if Rico had dozed off or something. He was just about to send Van Doren to find out when he heard a tremendous commotion outside the tent. Shouted commands were heard, along with the screech of reptillian mounts and the clash of loose gear. All eyes were on the tent flap as it was suddenly thrown aside. With perfect timing Rico strode through the entrance with a squad of Lif's elite scouts following behind. He was dressed exactly like Van Doren and in company with the colorful Lakorians made quite a sight. Looking neither right nor left, he marched to where McCade and Lif sat. Bending down between them he whispered in their ears.

"Looked pretty impressive, didn't we, Baron? How're ya doin', sport . . .. Hope everything's goin' good. Well that oughta do it . . .. See ya later." With that Rico snapped to attention, delivered a salute worthy of the Imperial Honor Guard, did an about-face, and marched out of the tent with the scouts following behind.

His features now etched in lines of concern, Baron Lif slowly stood to address the gathering. Rico's performance had accomplished its purpose. The debate had ended and the audience had been delivered back into Baron Lif's hands.

"Friends, critical information has just come to my attention. As you know we are within a half day's march of Zorta's castle. Therefore it seemed prudent to send out scouts to locate and probe his defenses. As you have just witnessed, a squad of my elite rangers under the command of Sir Sam's squire have just returned. The intelligence they have gathered on their daring mission behind Zorta's lines is astounding."

Lif couldn't resist letting them sit and stew for a moment before taking them off the hook. "Penetrating the very heart of the area indicated by the beacon's signal, they found nothing. Ground defenses and troops . . . yes.

Hundreds in fact. But where Zorta's castle should stand, where the beacon says it does stand, there is nothing."

Expressions of confusion and consternation filled the tent as everyone tried to talk at once. McCade shifted uncomfortably in his oversize chair, wishing Lif would get on with it. From the start he'd understood the value of some drama, and the necessity of some verbal sleight-of-hand, but the Baron was overdoing it.

Twelve hours before, Van Doren and two of Lif's scouts had penetrated the King's defenses in broad daylight. The big marine had found it surprisingly easy to do. In fact Amos could tell that the defenders were completely unaware of the approaching army. Having never been challenged here, Zorta's forces were more than a little sloppy. Once behind the King's lines, Van Doren had expected to run into a castle, complete with battlements, flags, weapons emplacements, the whole ball of wax. Instead he found nothing. Zero. Zilch.

Suspecting more than met the eye, Van Doren had set up and used a small but sophisticated detector pak he'd brought with him. The truth practically jumped out at him. Or up at him, as the case might be . . . since every reading on the detector indicated he was standing on top of an immense underground complex.

Van Doren and the scouts slipped back through the lines to notify McCade. McCade informed Lif, and together they had planned the evening's charade. McCade's thoughts were interrupted as Lif delivered the punch line.

"Finally, my friends, our brave lads have laid bare Zorta's secret. For years our spies and secret aircraft have searched for his castle without success. Now we know why. The beacon does not lie. Zorta's castle is before us. But not above ground as we have always assumed! No. The cowardly cur has made his home underground like the lowly animal he is. Let's bury him in it!"

When the predictable reaction had died down, the nobles were ready to listen to the plan that Lif and McCade had carefully constructed. Heaving a sigh of relief, McCade pulled out a cigar and added another source of pollution to the already foul air.

The next day dawned brightly clear. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and nothing could have been worse. They had counted on the usual downpour to cover their attack. Fighting in rain and mud was no problem for the Lakorian troops and their mounts. They were used to it. In fact they preferred it. The more superstitious of them saw the sunny day as a bad omen, causing Baron Lif to become concerned about morale. However they all agreed the attack should go on as planned. If not they would soon be discovered and annihilated by Zorta's air force. Besides, their rather unorthodox plan of attack should offer some protection.

So Rico and McCade sat, side by side, waiting for the signal to attack. Lif and Van Doren had just finished a final strategy meeting. Bit by bit, Lif had come to seek more and more advice from the marine, who was after all an expert at ground warfare.

Now Lif was with his troops attending to a few last-minute details. Van Doren was manning the crawler's missile battery, while the Treel and Phil were strapped into the waist turrets. McCade would control the bow weapons and Rico would have his hands full operating the crawler.

The speaker over McCade's head crackled to life as Baron Lif gave the uncharacteristically short order: "Go." Rico revved the crawler's powerful engines, shifted into gear, and they lurched into motion.

They traveled as they had before, turning and twisting over and around the many obstacles. For a long time there was only radio silence. Then the forward elements of Lif's force came into contact with Zorta's outer defenses. At first the King's unprepared troops fell back in total confusion. Before long however they rallied and began to put up stiff resistance. Then by prior arrangement Lif's troops backed off slightly, keeping Zorta's soldiers engaged, but minimizing casualties.

Meanwhile Lif was flooding the airwaves with bogus radio traffic that seemed to confirm a stalled assault.

Rico and McCade looked at each other and smiled.

"Well, let's give it a try, Rico."

The other man grinned, eyes twinkling. Stubby fingers stabbed a series of buttons, resulting in a loud, whining sound. The sound, plus an indicator light, were the only signs the energy projector had come into use. But McCade knew that a cone of force was being projected in front of them, and that anything it touched would be cut, pulverized, melted, and spun out behind them. That's how it's designed to work, and it had better work if they were to succeed.

Rico pulled a lever and the crawler's nose dropped. As it did, the cutting beam made contact with the wet ground. A tremendous cloud of steam rose to hide the crawler from Lif's amazed troops. The huge machine began to vibrate as earth and rock were cut and pulverized to feed its mechanical maw. Gradually the vibration grew more and more intense until McCade wondered if the crawler would come apart. Beads of sweat formed on Rico's brow until they got large enough to run down his face and glisten in his beard. His bright little eyes saw only the controls before him as he fought the big machine.

Moments later they were underground. As McCade watched, the forward and side video cameras went black behind armored hatches, leaving only the stern monitor. On it McCade saw a short tunnel with glowing red walls slanting up to a bright blue sky. They were on their way to Zorta's underground refuge. McCade knew that as soon as the tunnel cooled sufficiently, a horde of Lakorian troops would enter and follow the crawler downward until it breached the walls of the underground complex. Then things would really get interesting.

But until then, success or failure rested on Rico's brawny shoulders and on the machine he fought to control. Designed for short, exploratory tunnels, the crawler was being pushed to its limits. There wasn't a thing McCade could do but hang on and pray. Pray that the plan worked, and pray that if it did Sara would still be alive when they got there. As the crawler ground its way down, the sensors began to go crazy. From all indications there was a major heat source, a high concentration of radioactivity, and massive amounts of metal, all up ahead.

Then somewhere deep in the guts of the crawler something broke with a resounding clang. Fear struck the pit of McCade's stomach. His left cheek twitched uncontrollably as he looked at Rico.

Through gritted teeth Rico said, "Port engine again . . . just couldn't take it. Same bearing."

"Can we keep going?" McCade asked as a terrible groaning noise began.

"For a while," Rico said, fighting to correct a sudden skew to the left, "until she bums up. Then we walk. Or should I say dig?" Rico grinned before turning back to his controls.

McCade fought to control the combination of fear, impatience, and frustration he felt. He knew Rico was doing all that could be done. Still it was hard to just sit. Glancing up at the sensors he saw that they were much closer. "Just a little bit farther," he chanted under his breath. "Just a little bit farther."

The stern monitor showed a much longer tunnel now, with only a small circle of daylight still showing at the far end. As McCade watched, dark shapes began to obstruct the light as Lakorian troops began to pour in behind them. Then they were gone . . . obscured by clouds of steam as they sprayed water on hot spots. Pretty soon all the troops would be committed. Then, if the crawler broke down, Zorta would be able to trap Lif's entire force by putting a single section at the tunnel's entrance. They'd roll a few charges down the passageway, and that would be the end of it. For months Zorta would think about the army that buried itself, and laugh.

Forcing such thoughts aside, McCade resumed his chant. "Come on, baby . . . just a little bit farther."

Acrid smoke began to seep into the control room from the engine compartment. The grinding noise was now punctuated by a regular thump, and the overall vibration had grown much worse. Next to him Rico was bathed in sweat. His eyes were locked on the sensors and his lips moved in silent prayer. They were close. Very close. Then as though in answer to their prayers they were through. The front end of the crawler dropped twenty feet with a sickening crunch that left McCade's stomach somewhere on the overhead. All the external video cams came back on, along with a host of warning buzzers and trouble lights.

McCade hit the quick release on his harness as he checked the monitors. They had broken through the durocrete walls into some kind of warehouse. Stacks of crates stretched off into the distance in orderly rows. As far as McCade could tell there wasn't anybody around at the moment. He had a feeling that this wouldn't last long.

Hitting the intercom he said, "Amos, Phil, grab Softie and let's bail out. Do your best to set up some kind of a defensive perimeter until we get some troops out of the tunnel."

"Right, boss," Van Doren's voice came back. "Tell Rico this is the worst parking job I've ever seen."

Rico grinned as he picked up an energy weapon and backpack from behind his seat. "Typical back seat driver. Ya just can't please everybody, ol' sport."

McCade laughed with relief as he grabbed his knapsack and auto-slug thrower. "Well, let's ruin Zorta's day!"

Moments later they were outside the crawler, spreading out to take up defensive positions. Behind them the crawler loomed like a beached whale. Its bow was smashed into the warehouse floor and its stern still rested in the tunnel some thirty feet up. There would just barely be room for the Lakorian troops to squeeze by the crawler and out the tunnel. While the others set up interlocking fields of fire, McCade climbed onto some of the crates.

They had been lucky to break into an unpopulated area of the complex. But they were going to need some transportation soon. Once the leading elements of the troops left the tunnel, they would have to move quickly, before Zorta could organize his forces and respond. Otherwise they would be bottled up in the warehouse area and might never break out. From the top of the crates McCade had an excellent view of the surrounding area. It took only a moment to spot a wheeled vehicle hooked to a train of power pallets loaded with cargo. Quickly scrambling down he started to work his way through the stacks of material and toward the vehicle. Then he heard a shouted Lakorian command and the sizzle of an energy weapon. The battle had begun.

Peering around a corner McCade spotted Zorta's troops. Only a half section or so, thank God. They had taken cover behind some duct work and were under fire from Rico and the others.

Turning his attention back to the vehicle, he took a deep breath, got set, and dashed across the open space between the crates and the small tractor. He knew he was in full view of the Lakorians and expected to feel the impact of a hit any second. He reached the vehicle and ducked around to the other side, surprised they hadn't spotted him, but damned glad.

In the driver's seat he found himself facing strange controls. Fortunately the answer was absurdly simple. In place of an ignition code there was a simple "on-off" switch. Flicking the switch to "on," he tapped the accelerator experimentally and then the brake. They worked perfectly.

Glancing over his shoulder he saw that two Lakorians were down and the others weren't looking his way. No time like the present, he decided, and put his foot to the floor. It was wasted effort. The little electric motor wasn't geared for fast getaways and was woefully underpowered to boot. Very gradually the little tractor eased into motion with its loaded train of power pallets following dutifully along behind.

McCade turned the handle bars and felt the vehicle's sluggish response as it headed sedately across the open floor toward the distant protection of the crates. From his left he heard a Lakorian shout and knew he'd been spotted. Gritting his teeth and gripping the handle bars until his knuckles turned white, he continued to hold the accelerator to the floor as the tractor gradually built up speed.

The flash of an energy beam cut across in front of him, leaving a black line on the durocrete floor. Swerving left and right he did his best to ruin their aim, but there was an impact as the rearmost power pallet was cut in two. Deprived of power, the front half of the pallet fell to the floor and was dragged along with a terrible screeching sound. It cut the tractor's speed in half. His eyes desperately searched the controls until he found a pictograph of the train. He touched the last car in line and then the button with the universal "disconnect" symbol on it. To his tremendous relief he felt the surge of speed as the wreckage fell away. Seconds later he was safely hidden behind some crates and weaving in and out toward the wrecked crawler.

Rounding a final stack of boxes, he saw the leading elements of Lif's troops making their way out of the tunnel and down to the warehouse floor. Swinging in front of them, he saw the Baron and waved. Lif immediately understood the need for transportation and ordered his troops to jump aboard.

Rico, Van Doren, Phil, and the Treel hopped aboard too as McCade headed the tractor up a wide ramp. Glancing in his rear view mirror he saw that Rico and Van Doren had the troops hard at work taking cargo from the center of each pallet and throwing it overboard, thereby creating a hollow space in which they could take cover. It wouldn't protect them from energy weapons, but it would provide some defense against slug throwers. The ramp continued to lead upward in a gentle curve. McCade kept expecting to run into an organized defense, but they didn't. Later he would learn that Zorta had placed most of his available troops on the upper levels of his complex, assuming Lif would try to break in from above. When they tunneled in from below, the King should have moved his troops down to meet the invaders. Unfortunately for him, Zorta refused to believe the early reports of a subterranean breakthrough, and by the time he did, it was much too late.

However not all of Zorta's troops were on the upper levels. Some were engaged in routine chores on the lower levels, and some were off duty. These were more than sufficient to cause the invaders problems and quickly did so. Listening to the garbled reports of an underground invasion that flooded his belt radio, one corporal used his head. Quickly drafting every private in sight, he used them to erect a barricade across the main ramp leading up from the lower levels. At his direction the troops used anything that was handy, including office furniture, packing crates, and a wealth of odds and ends.

As soon as it came into sight, the tractor came under fire. The corporal had placed his men well, and they knew their business. All McCade could do was keep going. If they left the protection of the train there was no cover at all. If he tried to turn around, he'd expose the length of the train to raking fire. He gritted his teeth and ducked, as did Baron Lif. A second later an energy beam sliced through the tractor's cab about head high, leaving behind the smell of hot metal and burned plastic.

Meanwhile, led by Van Doren and the others, Lif's troops opened an ineffectual fire on the barricade. Their efforts were hampered by the tractor and pallets in front of them, and their aim wasn't improved any when McCade began to swerve from side to side in an attempt at evasive action.

However Rico did manage to intimidate Zorta's troops with an automatic grenade launcher he'd picked up somewhere. As he targeted a line of explosions across the top of the barricade, the defenders were forced down and back.

The Treel did his part as well, yelling "Die, Infidel," as he systematically picked off enemy troopers.

McCade held the tractor's accelerator to the floor, but as before he found he couldn't make any real speed. The tractor took its own sweet time to cover the remaining yards and finally crash into the barricade.

McCade squeezed between a huge packing crate and a filing cabinet only to find himself the target of a wicked, foot-long bayonet in the fist of a charging Lakorian regular. McCade's slug gun bucked three times, stitching big black holes across the soldier's chest and spraying gore out behind him. The alien's inertia carried him past to crash into the barricade before sliding to the floor.

Around him similar encounters were taking place as McCade jumped on top of a desk. "Take prisoners! We need prisoners!" he shouted.

His reward for exposing himself was a searing line of pain across the top of his shoulder. He spun around, searching for the source and found it. The slug gun roared twice and the impact of the huge slugs blew one side of the Lakorian's head off before spinning him around like a top.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, the battle was over.

"Over here, boss!" Van Doren shouted. "We've got a live one!"

McCade arrived to find there were four live ones. And as luck would have it, one of them was the same corporal who had ordered the defense.

"So far he's not talking, boss," Van Doren said crossly. "Shall I knock him around a little?"

"First allow me to test my powers of persuasion, good Squire." Baron Lif smoothly inserted himself between Van Doren and the corporal. "We have a saying. The wise man trades words before blows." With that he began talking to the soldier in low, urgent tones.

As the Baron interrogated the corporal, a second contingent of his troops arrived from the tunnel and formed up to advance upon command.

At a gesture from Lif, McCade moved over to join him. To McCade's surprise the corporal was smiling as he ripped Zorta's insignia from his own uniform. His three remaining subordinants were doing likewise.

"I would like to introduce you to Staff Sergeant Poka, good Knight. The sergeant and his men have decided to ally themselves with the side of freedom and justice."

And the side that's winning, McCade thought. "Welcome aboard, Sergeant," McCade said. "You and your men put up a valiant defense."

Poka inclined his head respectfully. "Thank you, sire. How may my men and I serve you?"

"First as guides, I suspect," Lif answered, looking at McCade for confirmation. "I assume that was why you called for prisoners, my friend."

"Exactly, my lord," McCade bowed slightly. "I suggest you and your men strike out for Zorta's quarters under the sergeant's guidance. Once Zorta is in your hands, his troops will cave in rather quickly, I think. Meanwhile, if one of the sergeant's men could be spared, we will search for the Princess."

"Of course, good Knight, it shall be as you say." The Baron regarded McCade silently for a moment before speaking again. "You and your men have forged links of friendship not easily broken, my friend."

Lif was saying good-bye. Somehow he knew McCade didn't intend to be around for the victory celebration—or defeat—whichever might occur. As he gripped the Baron's hand, McCade saw genuine regret in the Lakorian's eyes. To his own surprise he realized he too felt regret. Lif was a crafty bastard, but a good bastard all the same.

Sergeant Poka detailed a Private Ven as McCade's guide. Ven was undersized, by Lakorian standards, and had a shifty look about him. McCade had a hunch their new guide would be about as dependable as a Linthian Rath snake during the mating season. With that in mind, he called Phil over.

"Phil, I'd like you to meet Private Ven. He's going to take us to the slave quarters, aren't you, Ven?"

The Lakorian nodded eagerly, eyes shifting nervously back and forth between the human and the Variant.

"Make sure that nothing happens to Ven, Phil," said McCade meaningfully.

"Gotcha, Sam," Phil replied with a grin that revealed rows of durasteel teeth. "Ven and I are going to be real close friends, aren't we, Ven?"

The Lakorian didn't reply, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from those gleaming teeth.

Lif's troops meanwhile had begun their advance up the ramp in search of King Zorta.

After a short huddle with Ven, Phil said, "According to my good buddy here, the slave quarters are directly above us. Evidently the lower levels of the complex are considered the least desirable. We broke in on the lowest or utility level. Above us are the slave quarters, kitchens and mess hall. The troops are quartered on the level above that, and then comes a floor dedicated to Zorta's private quarters and guest suites. The very topmost level is all for defense and features an air strip and a small spaceport."

He looked at McCade with a raised eyebrow. McCade nodded his understanding. It was something they had to think about. With the tractor gone and their crawler out of action, they needed a way out. If they could find Sara and then reach the top level, maybe they could steal a plane. Time would tell.

"All right, let's get moving," McCade said, reloading his slug gun. He'd lost the auto-slug thrower somewhere, but decided not to look for it.

Using an electronic key, Ven opened one of the hatches spaced at regular intervals along the ramp's wall. Once open, the hatch revealed a vertical ladder, evidently provided for maintenance purposes. Without hesitation Ven started climbing upward and Phil followed. McCade was next. As he climbed, he found the spacing of the rungs more suited to shorter Lakorian legs than his own. Below him Rico, Van Doren, and the Treel followed. Cold air blew down against his face. Evidently the shaft also served as part of the air conditioning system. By the time they reached the next landing, McCade was out of breath and damned cold to boot. With Phil and Ven, he waited on the landing, catching his breath as Rico, Van Doren, and the Treel climbed up to join them.

Ven opened another hatch and peeked out. A moment later he slipped through the opening, motioning to the rest to follow. They emerged into a side corridor which was, for the moment, empty. As they followed Ven down the hallway, McCade could hear the distant sounds of an alarm gong and fighting. Lif's forces had evidently made contact with Zorta's troops.

"Stop!"

The order came from behind them and was answered with a bolt from Van Doren's energy weapon. A soldier wearing half a cook's outfit and half a uniform crumpled to the floor, his weapon falling from dead fingers. They were off and running after that. Ven led them from one corridor to the next with remarkable speed. Of course the fact that Phil was right behind him probably helped.

As they ran they traded occasional shots with barely glimpsed troops who also seemed to be running somewhere. But they managed to avoid prolonged firefights. Until Ven whipped around one corner too many without looking first. They rounded the corner and ran full tilt into a whole section of Lakorian troops. Fortunately the soldiers were facing the other way with their weapons trained on a large steel door. In a flash McCade guessed why. The slaves were taking advantage of Lif's attack and were trying to escape. The searing white light of the energy beam cutting its way around the lock from the other side confirmed his guess.

Unfortunately Ven's inertia proved to be so great he was unable to stop and crashed full speed into the rearmost trooper, who took several others down with him as he fell. Taking advantage of the confusion thus created, McCade and the others hit the deck and opened fire. Caught between hostile fire and a steel door, it didn't take the noncoms long to decide that discretion was indeed the better part of valor and try for a hasty retreat down a side corridor. Their orderly withdrawal was turned into a rout when Rico brought his grenade launcher into play.

Approaching the steel door, McCade felt a wave of heat and smelled a mixture of smoke and Lakorian body odor. He noticed that the cutting beam had almost circled the lock. He stepped back and went to kneel beside Ven's body. At McCade's touch the Lakorian's eyes flew open and flitted about, shrewdly evaluating the situation. Satisfied the danger had past, Ven quickly regained his feet, evidently untouched, and confirming McCade's estimate of the Lakorian's potential for duplicity.

"Well, sire," Ven said blandly as he dusted himself off, "I guess we showed them!"

With a loud clang, a six-inch thick circular slab of metal hit the floor. Slowly, against the resistance of its normal mechanical system, the huge door was rolled aside to reveal a mob of angry slaves. They were waving weapons of all kinds, from chair legs to captured energy weapons. As the door slid out of the way, they charged, and then jerked to a sudden halt at a sign from their helmeted leader.

The leader took two paces forward before lifting the helmet's visor. "Well, Sam," Sara said, "what took you so long?"