The citadel was destroyed on impact, the north face of the hill crumbled into Pleasant Bay, and a series of explosions marched through the ruins.

  As Kas died more than a quarter million Saurons died with her, or twice that number if one counted their nymphs. It was a victory for which she would never be credited—but which gave the humans a chance. Not a surety, but a chance, for which Boyer Blue was thankful. Though not one of those fortunate enough to witness the destruction of Hell Hill, he arrived less than forty minutes later, before the fire had burned itself out, and the back half of the Ravager’s hull could still be seen protruding from the hill’s south slope. The sight of smoke billowing up out of the wreckage should have made him happy, the historian knew that, but he couldn’t find the joy that seemed to fill all of those around him.

  What was it that Wellington supposedly said to a dinner companion? “Madam, there is nothing so dreadful as a great victory—excepting a great defeat.” Yes, Blue thought to himself as he looked out over the devastation, Wellington understood.

  ABOARD THE RA ‘NA DREADNOUGHT LIBERTY

  The compartment was packed with small furry bodies—as were similar compartments throughout the Ra ‘Na fleet. Screens had been rigged so that the audience could watch the proceedings and learn from what took place. Because soon, within a matter of hours for some, they too would be asked to board one of the Sauron-held vessels, pad down empty corridors, and murder every member of the master race that they could find.

  Dro Rul walked out onto a raised platform, and Shu felt her pulse pound just a little bit faster. Everyone cared about the boarding party and hoped their mission would go well, but no one knew the team’s commanding officer as well as she did, nor cared as much about his personal safety. The last thing the med tech wanted to do was witness her lover’s death, yet that was exactly what might occur as Fra Pol took a boarding party aboard the Sauron dreadnought Ib Se Ma in an attempt to find any changers who remained hidden aboard the ship. Something none of the Ra ‘Na in the room had been trained for. By watching Fra Pol’s team, the rest of them would learn what worked and what didn’t.

  The screens flickered into life. Each camera was mounted on a marine’s shoulder and showed that individual’s name under the shot. Shu sought out the frame labeled “Fra Pol,” and knew she was seeing what he saw. She wanted to be there, had requested to be there, but the request was denied. By Rul? By Pol? Or by someone else? There was no way to know. All she knew was that her stomach ached, her mouth felt dry, and the video made her dizzy.

  Rul looked down from the screen to the audience. His words were direct and to the point. “As you know the change has begun. Many of the Saurons, I daresay most of the Saurons, are on the surface or en route.

  “Once there, they intend to spawn a new generation of slave masters, reassert their dominance over our race, and reclaim the fleet. Something they will be better able to accomplish if at least some of them are born in space. Especially since their plan to maintain and breed a population of collaborators failed.

  “In order to cement our freedom and ensure that any Saurons who manage to survive are trapped on the planet below, it’s important that we control every ship in the fleet.”

  P’ere Dee was seated in the front row. He nodded approvingly. If all went well, the humans would eradicate the Saurons and thereby reclaim not only their planet but their freedom. However, should the furless ones fail, the Ra ‘Na would be free to depart for Balwur, confident in the knowledge that the Sauron menace had been effectively contained.

  “So,” Rul continued, blissfully unaware of his subordinate’s line of thought, “the Liberty’s commanding officer, Fra Pol, volunteered to lead the boarding part, which will show us how it’s done. Please pay close attention, as many of you will soon have an opportunity to take part in such missions yourselves.

  “Now, as Fra Pol and his brave crew near the Ib Se Ma, please join me in prayer… ‘From the ocean we came… and to the ocean we shall return…’”

  Though aware of the fact that his every deed would be witnessed by thousands of his fellow Ra ‘Na Pol couldn’t hear Dro Rul and wouldn’t have wanted to. Not with the Ib Se Ma’s enormous bulk looming ahead and no idea of what to expect. The fact that the shuttle he rode on remained unharmed was a testament to the fact that most of the ship’s crew had departed for Earth, but that was the extent of his knowledge. What if he and his crew were walking into a well-prepared trap? The training video would be short indeed.

  But there was no further time for doubts as the shuttle made contact with one of the dreadnought’s rarely used emergency locks. The entry point was driven by two considerations: the fact that the hatch which provided access to the ship’s Launch Deck was closed, and the hope that if a trap had been laid, the Saurons were waiting at some other location. Of course, Pol knew that if he could conceive of such a strategy, the Saurons could too, which left him where he had started. There was no way to know what awaited them.

  Considerable progress had been made where Ra ‘Na military gear was concerned, and as Pol made his way back toward the lock, he was pleased to see that all of his marines wore hastily manufactured body armor, combat harnesses, and were armed to the teeth. The small .22-caliber submachine guns used during the mutiny had proved extremely effective and now served as the standard assault weapon for all Ra ‘Na forces. Small two-shot .22 Magnum derringers obtained from the humans served as backup weapons—as did the newly released vibro blades.

  “All right,” Pol said, his words echoing throughout the Ra ‘Na fleet, “you know the drill… We blow the exterior hatch, enter the lock, and check to ensure that the ship is pressurized. Then, assuming it is, the first file will enter, secure the immediate area, and wait for files two and three. Once everyone is aboard, we search the ship, kill any Saurons still aboard, and seize control. Once that’s been accomplished, the Launch Deck will be reopened, the new crew will board, and we return home for lunch. Not just any lunch… but oysters from the planet below.”

  Shu smiled as the boarding party cheered, knew nobody else would have thought to provide an inducement like that one, and knew that others would do likewise in the future. Pol gave a lighthearted bow, and the camera bowed with him.

  Then it was down to business. A team of space-suited environment techs entered the shuttle’s lock, used a probe to access the hatch’s control mechanism, bombarded the security system with ten thousand codes per second, waited for one of them to hit, and opened the door. Then, happy still to be alive, they entered the dreadnought’s lock.

  A quick check was sufficient to establish that the ship remained pressurized. That being the case, the technicians withdrew, Pol entered, and the boarding party followed. The interior of the ship was dark, much darker than usual, which added to the gloom.

  Used as he was to the Ib Se Ma’s sister ship, Pol recognized the steady whir of air as it passed through a vent over his head, the faint tang of ozone, and the slight, almost imperceptible, vibration, which meant her engines remained online. Not because they needed to be on-line—but because the Saurons didn’t know how to shut them down.

  But there was something else as well—a feeling that might reflect reality or be the product of Pol’s hyperactive imagination. Perhaps it was the total absence of foot traffic when the Ra ‘Na stepped out into the normally busy corridor, the brooding silence, or the creak of steadily cooling metal as the dreadnought entered the Earth’s shadow. Whatever the reason, Pol found himself whispering as he directed his marines to take up defensive positions and wait for the rest of the boarding party to catch up.

  It was then, while the Ra ‘Na positioned themselves to defend their only line of retreat, that one of the thousands of cameras located throughout the ship made a fractional movement and zoomed in. It was difficult for Sel-Nam to see, especially given what the change had done to his eyesight, but there was no mistaking the identity of the small bipedal bodies or the nature of their mission. The hunted had been transformed into hunters. Well, hunt away, the Zin thought to himself, because I have a surprise for you!

  It was difficult to concentrate, and each movement brought pain, but finally, after what seemed like a heroic effort, the Sauron managed to grasp the remote, squeeze the side grips, and activate the alien machine. Originally employed by a race called the Lopathians, thousands of such machines had battled the Kan some 1EI years earlier and been destroyed.

  Now, having discovered a score of such mechanisms moldering away within one of the fleet’s asteroids, and having very little faith in Hak-Bin’s ability to carry out his duties, the Zin forced a Ra ‘Na computer technician to reprogram one of the robots and subsequently put the slave to death.

  Metal clawed on metal as the long-dormant eight-legged robot came back to life, took its place between the Sauron and the hatch, and waited for something to kill.

  The fleet watched as Pol checked to ensure that the entire thirty-six person team was in place and properly oriented. Then, taking advantage of the fact that all of them were familiar with the Ib Se Ma’s layout, the Ra ‘Na boarders turned toward the core of the ship. A single Ra ‘Na took what humans often referred to as “the point,” followed by Pol, two fire teams armed with automatic weapons, a group of technical specialists, more marines, the team’s second-in-command, and the individual assigned to the drag position. It was his task to ensure that nobody was able to slip up behind the group—a responsibility that forced him to walk backward half the time.

  There were places where, judging from the pockmarked bulkheads and bloodstained decks, intense battles had been fought. Battles which the Ra ‘Na had lost. Pol felt as if the ghostly crew members were there, looking over his shoulder as he padded down the corridor, waiting for their revenge. Not a pleasant sensation and one he rid himself of by focusing his mind on the task at hand.

  The team’s first stop was in front of a seemingly innocuous access panel. One of the boarding party’s specialists, an enviro tech named Slas, used a special key to open the box, punched a code into the key pad, and watched a three-dimensional diagram populate the screen. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, Slas tapped more keys, watched the visual morph slightly, and pointed to a series of bright green dots. Thanks to the camera mounted on his body armor, thousands of enviro techs could listen in. “We have five hits, sir, four of which are consistent with Sauron physiology.”

  Pol frowned. “And the fifth?”

  “That’s one of ours, sir. He or she is on the move, with blip three in hot pursuit.”

  All over the fleet ears went back as the audience imagined how that would feel. To be the only one of your kind, on a nearly deserted ship, pursued by a murderous foe. Many of them shivered.

  Conscious of the fact that everything he did was being broadcast, Pol thought rather than said some of the swear words he had learned on Earth. It was tempting to intervene—but was that the right thing to do? He had the mission to consider—not to mention the boarding party itself. Mind racing, the cleric eyed the screen. Outside of Three, who was clearly intent on following Five down a corridor two grids over, One, Two, and Four remained stationary. An icon flashed on and off beside blip one. Pol pointed to it. “What’s that?”

  Slas shrugged. “It’s hard to say, sir. The icon signifies that electromechanical activity is taking place within that compartment but doesn’t specify what kind. It could be anything ranging from a robo sweeper to some sort of malfunction.”

  Pol nodded. “How many of the Saurons can be handled from the bridge?”

  Slas looked. “Two and Four. Three is on the move, and it appears as if One either knew how to enter a command override or forced someone to do it for him. See the delta-shaped symbol here? That means the environmental controls for that particular compartment are locked. No password, no access. You won’t be able to pump that one from the bridge.”

  “Sounds like a Zin,” Pol said thoughtfully. “Some of them actually know a thing or two.”

  Slas, mindful of the life-and-death scenario being acted out not far away, cleared his throat. “Sir? What about blip Five?”

  Pol looked, saw that Five had lost some of his or her lead, and started to issue orders. “Hars, take three triads, plus the techs, and secure the control room. Once that’s accomplished lock Two and Four into their compartments and pump the air out. The rest of the team and I will go after blips Three and One in that order… Any questions?”

  All over the Ra ‘Na held fleet, newly minted officers and noncoms took note of the brisk, efficient manner Pol used to brief his troops and made plans to do likewise.

  Shu, her eyes locked on a shot of Pol provided by the camera labeled “Slas,” bit her lower lip. Why couldn’t Pol lead the team headed for the bridge? Where a person of his rank belonged? Well away from whatever dangers still lurked in the Ib Se Ma’s darkened passageways? But she knew the answer… Pol was determined to go where the greatest danger lay because that was his nature—and because that’s the way he believed leaders should lead.

  “All right,” Pol said, “there’s a Sauron on the loose. Let’s find the misbegotten sinner and send him to his ancestors.”

  Aware as he was that the somewhat wayward cleric had never been one to worry about rules, religious or otherwise, Dro Rul smiled and gave thanks for sinners.

  With the possible exception of Pol himself—the rest of the boarding party was extremely fit. Bare feet padded on metal decking as they cut from one corridor to the next, turned toward the bow, and ran full out.

  Unaware that he was being pursued, and intent on catching his prey, the Kan named Bla-Mas shuffled forward. He was different, very different, in that rather than change early the way it was rumored that some of his peers had, it seemed that his body was determined to change late if at all. That being the case, Bla-Mas saw no point in being herded into one of the citadels and hooked to a bunch of tubes.

  So, taking advantage of the considerable confusion that surrounded the ship’s evacuation, the Kan hid. Then, having emerged, it wasn’t long before the Sauron discovered that rather than being alone, at least one other being roamed the same corridors that he did. A Ra ‘Na who, judging from its size, remained a juvenile and had somehow managed to survive the recent slave slaughter. Well, not for long, Bla-Mas told himself, not for long.

  Nom paused to listen, thought that she could hear the soft shuffle-step-shuffle made by the pursuing Kan, cursed herself for a fool, and ran as best she could. The leg, which had been broken in a fall, slowed her down. Worse yet, assuming she could gain access to the secret passageways that crisscrossed the ship, the fully inflated splint was likely to impede her progress. The passageways were her best hope, however—which was why Nom was headed for one of the access points her parents had shown her.

  The very thought of them brought tears to Nom’s eyes, and she sniffled as she limped down the corridor. They had known, had seen what would happen, and hidden her away. “Stay here,” her father ordered, “stay here until all of the food and water is gone.”

  But there was lots of food and water, her mother had seen to that, and the hidey-hole was boring. Very boring, which was why she had ventured out too early and was presently running for her life.

  Nom limped around a corner, glanced around, and realized she had taken a wrong turn. This was a dead end, and in order to correct her mistake, the teenager would have to return the way she had come. Nom turned, heart thumping in her chest, and limped toward the main corridor. The leg had started to ache by that time and the youngster whimpered as she turned the corner.

  Bla-Mas saw the slave up ahead, uttered a shout of triumph, and drew his t-gun. That’s when Pol shouted, “Hit the deck!” and hoped the teenager would obey.

  Nom processed the words, heard a loud bang, and threw herself forward.

  Though surprised to hear a voice coming from the rear, Bla-Mas was a warrior and reacted swiftly. He turned, the t-gun coughed, and a dart plucked a marine off his feet. The boarding party opened fire, and the audience watched as a swarm of .22-caliber bullets devoured their target.

  “Hold your fire!” Pol yelled. “Hold your fire!” as what remained of Bla-Mas collapsed in a heap. The staccato bark of the small submachine guns ended as fingers came off triggers.

  “All right.” Pol said, “someone grab the youngster and let’s…”

  Neither the boarding party nor the fleetwide audience ever got to hear whatever it was that Pol planned to say next. A hatch whirred open, the Lopathian battle bot emerged, and the boarding party started to die. Energy bolts, each of which seemed to know exactly what path to follow, found their targets.

  Shu heard herself utter an audible yelp as the camera labeled “Argo” swiveled in the direction of the noise, jerked uncontrollably, and toppled over backward.

  Pol cursed himself for getting caught up in the chase, turned toward the machine, and opened fire. Sparks flew as the small .22-caliber slugs bounced off the machine’s armor, struck bulkheads, and buzzed away.

  That was when a marine named Foth ran forward, launched himself toward the robot, and slid along the deck. Thousands watched via Pol’s camera as the brave Ra ‘Na arrived under the robot’s curved belly, triggered the demo pack, and blew the construct three units up into the air. It crashed on top of Foth’s remains, showered the area with sparks, and finally went limp.

  Having been opened from within, it was a simple matter for a triad to enter the compartment where Sel-Nam lay hidden and do what needed to be done.

  Then, with the situation back under control, Pol turned his attention to the Ra ‘Na bodies. There were six of them, laid out side by side, as if at attention. His head bowed, and tears streaked his fur. Shu, who better than anyone knew what Pol felt, wished that she could hold him.