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otherwise have, but Petty had locked the confiscated device in a
    secure vault for secret police analysis. It was probably still intact, even with the collapse of the
    palace, but it could be buried anywhere. Long ago, he had added a tiny tracer to the
    disintegrator, but he had no time to construct a detector to pick up the signal. Right now, they
    had to get safely away from the ruins of the palace. And for that, they needed his special
    vehicle.
    Jommy moved down the hall, trailing his fingers along the painted cement blocks. He
    found a spot that looked no different from the rest, but when he depressed the blocks in a
    certain sequence, a hidden door slid inward and then aside to reveal a well-lit tunnel that
    extended a great distance.
    “Inside there, not far down, is the old maintenance tunnel that goes all the way under the
    river. The slans commandeered it for their own purposes a long time ago, and it’s been
    completely forgotten. We can follow it outside and get to the forest where I left my armored
    vehicle. I’m sure it’s still there and safe.”
    The embedded detectors recognized him as a slan, and Jommy felt a rush of relief. Once
    Jommy had opened the secret door to the tunnel, Petty did not wait for the others. He pushed
    forward, taking the lead. No one but slans had entered this tunnel for many years.
    Jommy’s tendrils suddenly picked up a shrill vibration, a distinct sensation of uneasiness
    that built to panic. A Porgrave transmitter, one of the special broadcasters that only slans could
    hear. The signal focused, and he could understand the words: an automated warning installed
    by long-forgotten slan inventors. The Porgrave signal shouted in his head: Non-slan detected.
    Unauthorized presence .
    Jommy felt a thrumming in the air as retaliation devices swung into action. Also
    recognizing the signal, Kathleen backed abruptly into her father. Petty, though, was unaware
    of anything unusual. He strode forward.
    Defense systems activating. Targeting … now .
    “Petty, look out!” Jommy lunged forward, grabbed the slan hunter by the back of his shirt,
    and yanked him off his feet.
    The burly man stumbled and cried out angrily just as a spiderweb of searing yellow-white
    beams criss-crossed the air where he had been. A smell of ozone accompanied the whip-crack
    sound of deadly defenses.
    Nonplussed, the slan hunter got back to his feet and brushed himself off, shocked and then
    angry. “You saved my life.” He seemed more upset than relieved that Jommy had saved him.
    He lowered his voice. “Don’t think you bought yourself any mercy from me because of that,
    Cross.”
    Kathleen let out a quick, bitter laugh. “If you think mercy is something that can be bought,
    Mr. Petty, then you don’t understand mercy at all.”
    The slan hunter gave her a dismissive wave. “Oh, you’re just angry because I shot you in
    the head.”
    They followed the dim passage for at least a mile, trending always upward. Jommy
    remained alert for other booby traps and defensive measures, deactivating several, though part
    of him longed to just let the evil slan hunter get himself fried by the systems. It would have
    been what he deserved, a poetic justice.
    “Explain again why we should bring you along, Petty?” Jommy asked, pausing before he
    deactivated another security system. “As far as I’m concerned, you don’t have any redeeming
    qualities.”
    Buried far underground, and now lost inside a labyrinth of booby-trapped tunnels, the slan
    hunter looked alarmed. “You need me. I can be useful.”
    “Exactly how?” Gray said. “You overthrew my presidency.”
    “And killed my mother,” Jommy said.
    “And shot me,” Kathleen added. “You haven’t done much to endear yourself to us. I say we
    should just leave him here.” She looked to her father for support. “There’s a slight chance he
    could make his way out and deactivate the security systems himself.”
    Turning pale, Petty quickly said,