back, then stepped back with a delighted cry. Behind her, a commando whistled appreciatively as lamp beams washed across the arms racks.
"Your commodore provides," said D'Trelna, sweeping his own light over the rows of stacked M16's and Uzis. "You do know how to use them?" he asked S'Til.
"We didn't waste our time on Terra," she said, passing out the weapons. "Plenty of ammunition," she added, nodding at the crates stacked beneath the racks.
"Indeed," said D'Trelna. Glancing at the boxes, he fleetingly wondered what 5.56MM NATO meant.
"You sly swamp d'astig, D'Trelna," said L'Wrona, handing the commodore an Uzi. "How'd you know?"
"I didn't," said D'Trelna. "Contingency planning."
"Keep your M11A's," ordered S'Til. Chambering a round, she clicked off her M16's safety. "And follow me," she said, pressing the airlock override. As the double doors hissed open, S'Til leaped out into the darkness of the mindslaver.
Egg had landed them at the intersection of four main corridors, a space half the size of a sports field. The area looked even wider than it was, there in the light from the battle torches.
Walking in a slow circle around the shuttle, D'Trelna looked down each of the great passageways, straining to see beyond the cone of yellow light. L'Wrona walked silently beside him, machine pistol at the ready.
"Do you know the tale of the four corners of hell, H'Nar?" asked the commodore as they walked around the front of the shuttle.
D'Trelna was surprised to see the captain smile. "One of my father's favorites. The merchant prince A'Lan rescues some tedious woman ..."
"T'Sar . . ."
"Rescues T'Sar from the demon P'Kul, in the very heart of hell. Pursued, A'Lan and T'Sar lose their way and come to the four corners of hell. P'Kul and his pack are at their heels. Before them, three dark, uncertain roads. Two, they know, lead back to hell. The third, to life, but only for the living."
"And A'Lan chooses the one least traveled on," said D'Trelna, "and of course they emerge into the land of life. A parable on the road-least-traveled."
The captain looked at the two corridors to his right and left. "Not many footprints in the battlesteel, J'Quel."
"We'll take the road least traveled, H'Nar," said D'Trelna as they rejoined S'Til beside the airlock. "We will advance on foot to the bridge."
"And where is the bridge?" asked L'Wrona.
D'Trelna waved vaguely toward the bridge corridor. "Up there, somewhere. Egg said it wasn't far. I want Harrison alive and that commwand in my hand when we leave."
"As the commodore orders," said L'Wrona. He turned to S'Til, who stood frowning, her head cocked. "We'll proceed on foot from here, Lieutenant. Have—"
She stopped him with upraised hand. "Listen," she whispered.
They listened, not hearing it at first. "Feet," said L'Wrona after a moment. "There," he nodded at the corridor they were about to use.
"Many feet," said D'Trelna, cocking his head. "Moving quickly, but not in time."
"You assume they're feet," said L'Wrona.
9
"There's no reason I should trust you," said John.
"My timely warning," said the blonde, hand to heart, "saved this galaxy from the AIs, when they'd infiltrated Terra Two."
"After you and your green slime horde wiped out millions of people, trying to take the galaxy for yourselves!" John felt his face flush.
"Not coming for fata, certainly," said D'Trelna, un-slinging his Uzi.
"Deploy!" ordered L'Wrona. "S'Til," he said as the commandos took up position around the shuttle, "get a hover-flare up."
Ducking into the shuttle, the commando officer came back with a short-barreled weapon. Scrambling up the access ladder to the roof, she dropped into the prone firing position, aimed carefully down the corridor and squeezed the trigger.
Whirring faintly, something floated away from the shuttle. A hundred meters out, it flared to life, lighting the corridor bright as a desert noon—the corridor and the gray-uniformed shapes charging down it, bayonet-fixed rifles held
"Your commodore provides," said D'Trelna, sweeping his own light over the rows of stacked M16's and Uzis. "You do know how to use them?" he asked S'Til.
"We didn't waste our time on Terra," she said, passing out the weapons. "Plenty of ammunition," she added, nodding at the crates stacked beneath the racks.
"Indeed," said D'Trelna. Glancing at the boxes, he fleetingly wondered what 5.56MM NATO meant.
"You sly swamp d'astig, D'Trelna," said L'Wrona, handing the commodore an Uzi. "How'd you know?"
"I didn't," said D'Trelna. "Contingency planning."
"Keep your M11A's," ordered S'Til. Chambering a round, she clicked off her M16's safety. "And follow me," she said, pressing the airlock override. As the double doors hissed open, S'Til leaped out into the darkness of the mindslaver.
Egg had landed them at the intersection of four main corridors, a space half the size of a sports field. The area looked even wider than it was, there in the light from the battle torches.
Walking in a slow circle around the shuttle, D'Trelna looked down each of the great passageways, straining to see beyond the cone of yellow light. L'Wrona walked silently beside him, machine pistol at the ready.
"Do you know the tale of the four corners of hell, H'Nar?" asked the commodore as they walked around the front of the shuttle.
D'Trelna was surprised to see the captain smile. "One of my father's favorites. The merchant prince A'Lan rescues some tedious woman ..."
"T'Sar . . ."
"Rescues T'Sar from the demon P'Kul, in the very heart of hell. Pursued, A'Lan and T'Sar lose their way and come to the four corners of hell. P'Kul and his pack are at their heels. Before them, three dark, uncertain roads. Two, they know, lead back to hell. The third, to life, but only for the living."
"And A'Lan chooses the one least traveled on," said D'Trelna, "and of course they emerge into the land of life. A parable on the road-least-traveled."
The captain looked at the two corridors to his right and left. "Not many footprints in the battlesteel, J'Quel."
"We'll take the road least traveled, H'Nar," said D'Trelna as they rejoined S'Til beside the airlock. "We will advance on foot to the bridge."
"And where is the bridge?" asked L'Wrona.
D'Trelna waved vaguely toward the bridge corridor. "Up there, somewhere. Egg said it wasn't far. I want Harrison alive and that commwand in my hand when we leave."
"As the commodore orders," said L'Wrona. He turned to S'Til, who stood frowning, her head cocked. "We'll proceed on foot from here, Lieutenant. Have—"
She stopped him with upraised hand. "Listen," she whispered.
They listened, not hearing it at first. "Feet," said L'Wrona after a moment. "There," he nodded at the corridor they were about to use.
"Many feet," said D'Trelna, cocking his head. "Moving quickly, but not in time."
"You assume they're feet," said L'Wrona.
9
"There's no reason I should trust you," said John.
"My timely warning," said the blonde, hand to heart, "saved this galaxy from the AIs, when they'd infiltrated Terra Two."
"After you and your green slime horde wiped out millions of people, trying to take the galaxy for yourselves!" John felt his face flush.
"Not coming for fata, certainly," said D'Trelna, un-slinging his Uzi.
"Deploy!" ordered L'Wrona. "S'Til," he said as the commandos took up position around the shuttle, "get a hover-flare up."
Ducking into the shuttle, the commando officer came back with a short-barreled weapon. Scrambling up the access ladder to the roof, she dropped into the prone firing position, aimed carefully down the corridor and squeezed the trigger.
Whirring faintly, something floated away from the shuttle. A hundred meters out, it flared to life, lighting the corridor bright as a desert noon—the corridor and the gray-uniformed shapes charging down it, bayonet-fixed rifles held
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