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Death to the Insects!

By Steven Gordon



Chapter 1: Gladiator Games



	Humanity had let down its guard, and paid a terrible price.

	After decades of war a conflict-weary population was eager for 
peace.  So when the Insects offered an armistice, the civilian 
leadership of the Alliance jumped at the chance to reach a final end to 
the bloody war.

	The rest was history.  The Insects ambushed the fleet at 
Vitalics, killing thousands of sailors and destroying the bulk of the 
fleet.  After that here was nothing to stop them, nothing left to 
protect Alliance worlds, both League and Directorate planets.  They 
landed on Alliance planets at will, killing those who resisted and 
enslaving the rest.

	The destruction of the fleet at Vitalics was almost total--but 
not all the fleet was actually there.  A small force under the command 
of the legendary War Admiral Norman North escaped an ambush and rallied 
the surviving forces.  "The Flight of the War Admiral" describes their 
flight from known space as they desperately searched for new technology 
they could use to take back their worlds.  But the Insects weren't 
content to leave them to their search and made many attempts to destroy 
them.  Finally after nearly twenty years of being chased, when the War 
Admiral's fleet was about to be destroyed, they were saved by a 
mysterious allied force, which was led by an old friend long thought to 
be dead.

	During these nearly 20 years there was scattered resistance to 
the Insects on the worlds they occupied. Small bands of resistance 
fighters took the battle to the Insects, but at first their numbers 
were few and they were relentlessly hunted down.  One of the most 
famous resistance leaders, former agency operative Clifford Croft, led 
one of the most successful teams to hamper to occupation force.  But 
now the Insects struck back hard, killing some of his friends, and 
capturing others.



Date: One Year, 11 Months, and One Day after the Invasion



	The Insects had just raided their hideout. They had barely gotten 
out with their lives. Clifford Croft studied the burning wreckage of 
his former hideout on the video monitor as he heard a clap behind him, 
then another, then another. Without turning, he said, "Thanks for the 
applause."

	 The Clapper continued to clap. He had some sort of mental 
illness that caused him to clap when he was nervous, or bored, or 
agitated, or whatever. The Silencer had managed to curb the Clapper's 
urge to clap by sheer force of intimidation, but now-

	Croft suddenly turned around, a look of annoyance in his eyes. 
The Clapper froze, in midclap. He was a powerful telekinetic, but was 
too timid to use his powers against allies. The same, however, could 
not be said of his companions.

	"Where's Red?" said Croft, looking around. The only one in the 
small room besides them was Sashay, who was keeping an eye on the door. 

	"She went out," said Sashay. "She thought she heard something in 
the corridor."

	"When was this?" said Croft. He elbowed Sashay away from the 
door.
	"A few minutes ago," said Sashay.

	And she wasn't back yet?  Croft bit his lip as he looked down the 
gloomy corridor. Despite his bravado, he realized they were being 
chased and hunted down by an enemy who outnumbered and outgunned them 
in every department. The shock of the loss of his friends was still 
sinking in. And all he had left was the Clapper and Sashay, also known 
as the Paperweight.

	He couldn't just abandon Red Sally. "Stay here," said Croft. "If 
I don't return in ten minutes, you're on your own."

	Sashay grew wide-eyed, and the Clapper's hands fluttered 
nervously. Croft didn't stay to look for any further reactions before 
heading out the door, his blaster drawn.

	If he ran into an Insect patrol he could take out two, maybe 
three of them before they got him. If only he had the Silencer with 
him! But the Silencer was dead. Or was he? Croft had seen him shot, but 
he didn't know for sure that he was dead. Maybe....

	Croft inched down the corridor for several hundred feet. 
Suddenly, he thought he saw a flash of orange light from a side 
corridor. He turned down that corridor and started to hear the faint 
noise of battle.

	The scene, when he reached it, was truly stunning; Red Sally and 
two men were trapped in a dead end, Red was shooting sheets of flames 
at the Insects while the men fired blasters; the Insects, some firing 
back and others on fire, shrieking in pain, were running around 
blindly.

	Croft, coming up behind the Insects, didn't hesitate, opening 
fire. After a second one fell, and the others turned to face this new 
threat. He saw a beam whiz by his right eye, and he instinctively 
crouched down, still firing. The Insects were falling rapidly, but 
there were so many of them!

	Red Sally and the others were taking advantage of this 
distraction to cut down the Insects from their side. In a moment, the 
last Insect was hit, and all was suddenly silent, except for the 
crackle of Insect body parts on fire.

	Croft stood up. He saw now that one of the two men with Red Sally 
was bleeding, and there were bodies of two other men on the ground 
besides them..

	"Come on," said Croft hoarsely. "We're pushing our luck by just 
standing around."

	Sally and the other two men gingerly picked their way over the 
charred Insect bodies to reach Croft. As they sprinted back to the 
hideout, Croft could see Sally's red hair, glistening with sweat, 
starting to turn blonde again.

	They reached the hiding place without incident. The Clapper gave 
a muted squeal of joy when he saw Red Sally.  They all sat on the 
floor, gasping to recover their breath, while Sashay continued to watch 
the door.

	"This hideout isn't safe," said Sally. "It's too close to a main 
corridor and too near our last encounter with the bugs. We should go to 
the one that we set up."

	After Croft's group had been forced to evacuate one of their 
previous hideouts during a particularly hurried retreat, leaving them 
with no secure base to go to, he had decreed that in the future they 
would always have a backup hideout. But, oddly enough, Croft had had 
his team split up into two groups, each setting up their own backup 
hideout, without telling the other group where it was. Red Sally, the 
Silencer, and Preston had set one up, and he, Mongo, and the Clapper 
had set up this one, and each group hadn't told the other where their 
backup was located. At the time they had wondered why Croft required 
this duplication and secrecy.

	Croft shook his head. "Your backup hideout is a deathtrap."

	"How do you know?" said Sally. "You don't even know where it is."

	"But the Insects do," said Croft. "How do you think they found 
out the location of our primary hideout?"

	Sally frowned. With all their running around, she hadn't given it 
much thought. "They may have stumbled upon it during a patrol-"

	"No, it was too well hidden," said Croft. "Unless you believe the 
Insects have a policy of breaking into every generator they see, on the 
off-chance that it's been hollowed out and used as a hideout. They knew 
what they were going to find before they attacked. They set up 
specifically to attack this location; it was obvious from the monitor."
	"Then how did they know?"

	"They got to the Silencer, or Preston," said Croft. "It's the 
only answer."
	"They're dead," said Sally.

	"They may indeed be dead now, but not before one of them talked," 
said Croft.

	"The Silencer would never give away our location."
	"It may not have been his idea," said Croft. "Either way, one or 
both of them were captured, and lived long enough to tell them about 
our primary base. Now, both of them also knew about your secondary 
base. Want to bet that the Insects haven't staked that out as well?"

	"Why don't we just check out-"

	"If we check in, we won't check out," said Croft bluntly.

	"As my dear departed wife used to say, better safe than sorry," 
said Sashay.

	"How do you know it wasn't Mongo who was tortured for 
information?" said Sally. "He's unaccounted for."

	"Possible," said Croft. "But he split before everything came 
apart. I'm guessing he saw far enough into the future to protect 
himself. We should leave now."

	"Leave?" said Sashay. "But we're already at the hideout that your 
group built. Where  else shall we go?"

	"To the hideout I created on my own," said Croft.



	Clifford Croft was not an especially trusting fellow. Working for 
decades as a spy hadn't sharpened his instinct to trust or rely on 
others, but even without his training, trust didn't come naturally to 
him. And so while he had gone through the motions of setting up an 
auxiliary hideout with Sashay and Mongo, he had, bit by bit on his own 
time, set up a real backup hideout for himself. And it was there that 
he took Sashay, the Clapper, Red Sally, and the two resistance fighters 
she had rescued. Only Croft insisted on a blindfold for the resistance 
fighters. No need to trust more people than necessary.

	Nearly two years earlier, a light cruiser in the defense of 
August had been shot down during the initial invasion. The pilot had 
managed to make a controlled crash, landing on one of the few large 
open plazas in the heart of the capital city surrounding Sarney 
Sarittenden. The ship had broken open, but the main body of the craft 
remained intact, allowing the two thirds of the crew who survived to 
escape.  The Insect ground troopers, after checking out the wreckage 
during the ground invasion, now didn't give it a second thought.

	But Clifford Croft did. The impact had collapsed the upper levels 
of August underneath the crash site, reducing the amount of tunneling 
he needed to do. After some excavation, he had an ideal hiding place--
in plain view of two Insect security checkpoints, on either end of the 
large plaza. The Insects would never, ever think to look there, and 
Croft had a secure method of ingress and egress--from the underground.

	It was there that he took his allies. He had refurbished two of 
the crew quarters, which made a tight squeeze for six, but light and 
sound used there couldn't be seen on the plaza outside. If the Insects 
ever became curious and investigated the wreck again, they'd have to 
dig their way to the two compartments, giving Croft plenty of warning.

	

	Czzz idly sat back in her chair. She was bored, and showed it. 
Now that they had conquered the humans, there was no fun, no excitement 
anymore! Czzz was a high-ranking Insect, a direct deputy to the 
governor-general of August, who had grown fat and lazy during the 
consolidation period. Perhaps the latest round of executions would add 
a bit of excitement to her day.

	The prisoners shuffled into the execution chamber, herded by 
guards carrying long blades. Their faces were down, their body language 
showed they were defeated. How boring.

	All except for one human. He moved slowly like the rest, 
shuffling along, and then, in the blink of an eye, he had somehow 
grabbed the giant four foot foot blade weapon from one of the guards, 
skewered it, and turned on the next one in line behind it.

	An alarm sounded, and Insect guards rushed into the execution 
chamber. They attempted to disarm the creature, but it was too quick, 
even using the blade which was obviously too long and heavy for it. 
Four guards were down before the rest pulled back, drawing their lasers 
for the inevitable putdown.

	"Wait!" said Czzz, standing up suddenly. Everything stopped; the 
guards, the prisoner, even the one with the long blade who moved too 
quickly. Czzz looked down at the execution chamber. "You! Human! How do 
you move so quickly?" Looking more closely, Czzz noticed that the human 
was wounded, its right arm hanging loosely from it. Even more 
remarkable that it could fight like that while wounded!

	The being looked up at Czzz and said nothing. Czzz wondered if 
her translator was functioning properly. "Human! How do you move so 
quickly?" Czzz said again.

	The being spoke in a flat voice. "I don't; you just move so 
slowly."

	"Do you have a name?" Czzz asked.

	The being nodded.

	Czzz waited. Then, seeing no response. "What is your name?"
	"I'm called the Silencer."

	The Silencer! The being responsible for the death of so many 
Insect troopers, the being who moved faster than a bat wing, the being 
who had raided Sarney Sarittenden itself. Now that was excitement!

	"I think I have a use for you," said Czzz.



	"We have captured or killed all the ringleaders," said the 
officer. A junior Queen, her name was Tsur, and she was in charge of 
internal security on August.

	"All the ringleaders?" said Queen Zsst.  "What of the one called 
Clifford Croft?"
	"He is presumed dead," said the officer.

	"When is he presumed to have died?" said the Queen. "Before or 
after the boobytrapped explosion which decimated your platoon?"
	So the Queen knew about that. She must have her own sources 
within the military, Tsur realized.

	"That could have been an automated boobytrap," said Tsur. "All 
evidence suggests he was killed along with the rest of General Markov's 
men-"
	"All evidence suggests that you are trying to hide your failure," 
said Queen Zsst. "This Clifford Croft is one of the few senior agency 
humans still at large, one of their legendary Eight. He is skilled at 
sabotage and guerrilla warfare. Find this human, or I will find you."

	"Yes, Queen," said Tsur, bowing as she exited.

	Zsst turned to another aide. "Continue the report."

	"We have broken the back of the resistance," the aide reported. 
"The raids in the capital area have virtually ceased."

	"But only in the area of the capital," said Queen Zsst, noting 
the distinction. "That is not sufficient." She sat at ease in her 
throne room in the heart of Sarney Sarittenden. To her side stood a 
hooded figure.  "Why are we not breeding additional troopers at full 
capacity?"

	"We have the capacity to breed more, but not the foodstuffs to 
support them," said the aide. "We are working on increasing grubfruit 
production at the farms."

	"See that you do," said Zsst. "We will only wipe out the human 
pest entirely when we have total numerical superiority."

	"The goal is not to wipe them out," said the hooded figure. "I 
thought we were clear on that."
	"To wipe out their resistance, I meant," said the Queen. "Of 
course, they can perform some minor manual labor as well."

	"And other purposes," said the hooded figure. "We did not assist 
you in this invasion merely to provide you with cheap labor. The humans 
have other uses, ones which you have not been using them for."
	"Other uses, Baracki?" The Queen almost seemed to snort in 
derision.

	The hooded figure shook its head sadly. "The humans can be used 
for skilled labor-"

	"Skilled? For what?"

	"Sophisticated product production. Driving. Piloting. You have a 
very educated worker base that you are squandering."

	Zsst made a derisive noise.

	"Do you not have a human in your employ?"
	"The cook?" said Zsst. "It is a cook!"

	"A sophisticated biochemist who is able to come up with dishes 
that your own cooks cannot," said Baraki. "I expect that you will make 
better use of the humans." The menace in his tone was clear.

	The tension was palpable.

	Zsst said, "Perhaps there are some minor tasks that they can be 
put to."

	"Good. Also, you have ignored their industrial base. You simply 
level whatever they have in place in order to build your own 
factories."

	"Their factories are not equipped to produce our munitions or 
other goods."

	"Some of them can be retooled," said Baraki. "You might also 
learn something from their manufacturing techniques."
	"Their techniques?" Zsst said incredulously.

	"You don't even make use of their own power supplies," said 
Baraki. "Your race knows how to conquer, but doesn't know how to 
exploit. We invested a lot of time and effort in helping you with this 
invasion. You must profit fully from what you have conquered so that 
you can build up as rapidly as possible and be ready for the next 
step."

	"Very well," said Zsst reluctantly. "We will see what can be 
done."



	The Sarney Sarittenden Stadium was the largest event arena on the 
planet, with ample seating for 50,000 on-site spectators. Used in the 
past for sporting, artistic, or cultural events, the Insects had found 
a more practical use for it: gladiator games. Over the past two years 
over a thousand human prisoners had met their end providing the Insects 
with entertainment. 

	But attendance at the games had been declining. The audience, all 
Insects, was starting to find them boring. Thus it was with great 
pleasure that Czzz had located a new source of entertainment.

	The Silencer stood in the arena, blinking in the morning sun as 
he raised one hand over his eyes. The other arm hung loosely on his 
right side. On the ground in front of him something gleamed in the 
bright sunlight. Coming closer he saw it was a smaller version of the 
sticks with the curved blades on the end that the Insects used. He 
picked it up with his good arm.

	Over the announcement system words blared out in the clicks and 
buzzes of the Insect native language. "Announcing a new target... one 
of the most fearsome human opponents... a Graftonite... the one known 
as the Silencer!"

	A buzzing went up in the audience. Obviously they had heard of 
him.

	A seven foot tall Insect wearing the traditional red shoulder 
patch of a gladiator emerged into the arena. It carried a giant stick 
with a curved blade on the end, a larger version of what the Silencer 
now carried.

	Normally, one of his top gladiators would take on several humans 
at once. The weak, underfed, and poorly trained humans were seldom any 
challenge. But Czzz, sensing that the Silencer would be more of a 
challenge, had arranged for a one-on-one contest. She sat on 
comfortable pillows, watching the battle that was about to begin. She 
hoped the Silencer would provide some challenge.

	The gladiator approached the Silencer. The Silencer didn't move, 
glaring at the Insect. He hefted the weapon in his good arm, as if 
feeling the weight.

	The gladiator stopped several feet short of the Silencer. "Are 
you ready to die, human?" it said through its translation device. "I 
have killed 40 of your kind in the arena. I am only one short to move 
up to fifth place in the gladiator rankings."

	The Silencer said nothing, but continued to glare coldly. The 
Insect, seeing it wasn't getting the reaction it expected, raised its 
weapon and cautiously started to circle the Silencer. The Silencer took 
a step as if to move in the opposite direction and to circle the 
Insect. The Insect took another step forward, and-

	no one in the arena could see it, because it was so fast, but the 
Silencer doubled back, lunged and stabbed the Insect in the chitlins 
deep with the blade before anyone, including the Insect, could even 
blink.

	The gladiator gave a hoarse scream as the Silencer tugged on the 
stick, causing the curved blade to sink deeper into the gladiator, 
pulling it down to the ground.

	The green blood of the gladiator ran freely on the sands of the 
arena. 

	The crowd roared in anger.  But Czzz was ecstatic. This wasn't 
the result she had been expecting; but it appeared this human would 
have some staying power. She wondered how it would perform when facing 
two gladiators....



	"So as I see it, we've got to leave," said Croft. He looked 
around at their little group--Red Sally, Sashay, the Clapper, and the 
two soldiers they had picked up, Tanil and Yaney. It had been a week 
now since they had escaped from their last encounter with the Insects.

	They were squeezed into one of the small renovated quarters 
aboard the crashed cruiser, all looking about aimlessly, except for the 
Clapper, who was watching something on the internal monitors. "The 
Insects have been mass producing troops at an incredible rate. The 
patrols here in the center of Sarney Sarittenden are simply too 
numerous for us to operate in safety."

	"Who's to say that the patrols will be any lighter in an outlying 
area?" Sally asked.

	"It just makes sense that they would build up their presence in 
the capital first," said Croft.

	"And what happens when they build up their forces so much that 
it's not safe for us anywhere?" Yaney asked.

	"Then we find a way to get off-planet," said Croft. He noticed 
their expressions. "Listen, I know we've just taken a bitter blow. All 
of us have lost friends. You guys have lost everyone you worked with 
under General Markov. We've lost the Silencer and-"

	"He's right there," said the Clapper, clapping slowly.

	"-and Preston, who were colleagues of ours," said Croft, ignoring 
the Clapper.

	"The Silencer's right there," said the Clapper, clapping slowly.

	"What do you mean?" said Croft, looking annoyed at being 
interrupted.

	"There," said the Clapper, pointing with a nod of his head, as 
his hands were busy clapping.

	They all turned to look at the monitor. Croft had tapped into the 
internal network, to monitor Insect communications. The image on the 
screen was the Silencer, in the arena, holding a weapon of some kind, 
fighting three other gladiators.

	Correction. Make that two. One of them went down with the 
Silencer's weapon in him. The Silencer gave a tug with his good arm to 
retrieve the weapon, but the weapon stayed firmly stuck to the Insect. 
A curved blade came whistling down on the Silencer's back even as he 
tugged; he jerked away at the last minute, gave its holder a sharp 
kick, and grabbed the weapon from the surprised Insect.

	In moments, it was over, and the Silencer, expressionless, was 
standing over the bleeding bodies of three Insects.

	"He's alive," said Croft. "We have to go get him."

	The Clapper started to clap more quickly.

	"Wait a minute," said Red Sally. "You were just saying how we 
needed to evacuate. Now you want us to go even deeper into the heart of 
the capital to make a rescue attempt?"

	"Yes," said Croft simply. 



	Two days later, the Silencer was sitting in a cold, dark, 
windowless cell, quietly eating the bowl of gruel that he had been 
given.  He didn't look up when he heard the cell door open, or even 
when he heard the familiar jeering buzz.

	"Get up, human!"

	"I'm not done," said the Silencer, continuing to eat.. He 
recognized his jailer; this one had given the Silencer a 
disproportionate  share of his bruises and cuts.

	The Insects reached out to give the Silencer a wack with one of 
its sharp arms. The Silencer ducked to the right before the arm landed, 
continuing to eat. The arm snaked out again, and the Silencer ducked to 
the left.

	Roaring, the Insect lunged forward with two of its arms, and the 
Silencer, ducking underneath both of them, delivered a sharp kick into 
the creature's gut. With an ooomph! it fell to the ground. But the 
Silencer wasn't finished yet; smashing down with his elbow, he cracked 
one the creature's large eye plexuses. It started to scream as it 
splurted green blood.

	Other Insect guards ran up, brandishing lasers. Two of them 
pulled the still writhing body of the first Insect guard out, while the 
others kept the Silencer covered.

	One of the guards, looking back and forth from the body to the 
Silencer several times, said, "Please eat quickly."



	There was an enormous cage in the arena, filled with what the 
Insects called "beasts"; giant insects breed for viciousness. These 
beasts happened to be giant bumblebees, each half again as large as a 
groundcar. There were three of them in the cage. The Silencer wondered 
how they expected him to fight them off with one of their cumbersome 
blade weapons.

	And then something was thrown down to him in the sand. He 
recognized it immediately, even before he picked it up. It was a 
simple, straight blade. With a button on the hilt. The Silencer hefted 
it in his left hand, and pressed the button. The outer edge of the 
blade gave off a thin glow.

	It was a traditional Graftonite powerblade, or powersword. The 
forcefield along the edges of the blade could cut through the hardest 
substance like butter.

	And then the door to the cage opened, and the three giant bees 
swarmed out in a direct line to him.

	The Silencer wasn't an expert in the use of powerblades as other 
Graftonites were. And using his left arm was somewhat awkward. But he 
was a Graftonite, one of the fastest, and he had used a powerblade 
before.

	The three bees came towards him at an altitude of only five feet 
off the ground, their forms casting heavy shadows underneath them, 
their yellow and black colors glinting off the natural sunlight. They 
made a loud buzzing sound as their eye plexuses, sparkling in the 
light, homed in on him. It was as if headlights from large gravtrucks 
were fixed on him.

	The Silencer seemed paralyzed into inaction. The shock of the 
sight of these beasts had caused more than one of their victims to 
freeze in their tracks.

	But the Silencer was merely biding his time. At the last moment, 
the Silencer dodged to one side, running furiously as he raised his  
sword up. He ran under and around one of the flanking bees so fast that 
it took them a few moments to decelerate and turn around.

	It was only then that the spectators noticed a piece of a wing on 
the ground, and one of the bees was flying unsteadily. The raised sword 
hadn't been a theatrical move, as many of the spectators had assumed; 
while running and dodging, the Silencer, quicker than anyone could see, 
had sliced through a piece of one of the beasts.

	The beasts turned and charged again, but the Silencer kept 
running, for the only cover available: the cage. Running behind the 
cage, he stood along the edge of it, watching them approach. Because 
the bulk of the cage was between him and the beasts, the beasts 
couldn't charge him directly. Two flew above the cage and one of them 
came from the side. 

	But it was an uncoordinated attack, and the Silencer realized his 
advantage. These beasts had only a rudimentary intelligence, so their 
ability to cooperate with each other was haphazard at best.

	The one attacking him from the side reached him first, and he 
ducked back behind the cage, so that it passed him by; it would take a 
precious moment for the bee to turn and accelerate back towards him. 
During that moment the Silencer ducked down and plunged his sword up, 
plunging into the guts of the bee who had just cleared the top of the 
cage. He yanked the blade out and spun to the side just as the bee came 
crashing down.

	The third bee was just coming over the top just as the first bee 
was getting a lock on his location again, so the Silencer ran around 
and into the cage. The first bee tried to sting him through the bars, 
lunging at him, but the Silencer stood just out of range. The beast 
lunged again, and just as it pulled back the Silencer lunged, stabbing 
it quickly with his powerblade.

	He heard a buzzing behind him and was lunging as he turned; the 
third beast was attacking him through the open end of the cage. The 
giant stinger lunged out at him, but a fraction of a second before it 
touched his body, his blade penetrated the beast first, causing it to 
jump back as if it had touched a hot poker. It fell to the ground in a 
heap just inside the entrance to the cage.

	Without looking, the Silencer lunged behind him, through the bars 
of the cage, at the wounded bee that was pressing against the bars. His 
sword hit it straight between the eyes, and it dropped to the ground.

	When the Silencer stepped out of the cage, there was raucous 
applause, with mandibles clicking and buzzing sounds everywhere. Even 
the Insects couldn't help but admire his skill.

	The Silencer slowly walked to the entrance of the arena, still 
gripping his powerblade. Guards nervously grasped their lasers at the 
entrance, motioning for him to drop the weapon.

	The Silencer seemed to pause, considering. Then he looked up, 
noticing the squad of guards above him, out of reach, who also had 
lasers trained on him, and then he deactivated the blade, dropping it 
to the sand.



	Deep inside the palace, in the heart of occupied Sarney 
Sarittenden, an interior wall illuminated, and a hooded figure stepped 
through. The illuminated wall seemed to show another room behind it, 
one much like the room the figure had stepped into. But this image 
faded almost immediately after the figure stepped through. The figure 
touched something on another wall, and the wall slid open, revealing a 
corridor in the palace. The figure glanced cautiously down the 
corridor; and, seeing it was empty, stepped forward.

	The wall closed behind him, leaving no sign of entry or exit.



	"You are very impressive!" said Czzz. 

	The Silencer had been brought, under heavy guard, to the hosting 
tower just behind the arena. He stood silently.

	"You are the most entertaining human we have ever had in the 
arena," said Czzz. 

	She waited for some kind of reaction. There was one.

	"Did you enjoy the use of your powerblade? It was I who procured 
it for you."
	The Silencer didn't reply.

	The guards stirred. The human wasn't behaving respectfully.

	But Czzz wasn't disturbed, merely puzzled. "What is it that will 
make you speak?" He looked at the Silencer. "I notice one of your arms 
isn't functioning. I could have my veterinarian look at it."

	The Silencer continued to say nothing.

	"All you would have to do is ask."

	There was no reply.

	"Very well, then be silent!" said Czzz. "Speech is not required 
in the arena. As long as you are entertaining, you will continue to 
live. Guards!"

	"Please, Silencer, come with us," said one of the guards, 
standing at a respectful distance. They had heard what had happened to 
the guard who had ventured into the Silencer's cell.



	Croft thought he had found a semi-abandoned maintenance tunnel 
that led under the arena. At least, it looked like the tunnel hadn't 
been used in some time. Behind him were Red Sally, the Clapper, Tanil, 
and Yaney. Sashay, fearful about entering the heart of an Insect 
stronghold, stayed behind. They all were fearful, actually. But Sashay, 
the Paperweight, wasn't much good in battle anyway. All he was good at 
was cooking. And painting. For a moment, Croft wondered why he hadn't 
gotten rid of Sashay earlier. He was just another useless mouth to 
feed. Croft absentmindedly stared at an intersecting corridor ahead of 
them. He squinted; something was bothering him about that intersection, 
but he wasn't quite sure what it was. Maybe it was just an attack of 
the nerves.

	In the intersecting corridor up ahead, just out of Croft's view, 
Tsur lay in wait with two handpicked squads of Insect troopers. Tsur 
knew that the Silencer was closely associated with the Clifford Croft 
human; and knew it was only a matter of time before the Clifford Croft 
attempted a rescue. Tsur had analyzed all the possible areas of attack, 
and concluded that Croft would attempt to come this way. And Tsur was 
waiting for him.

	Suddenly Tsur heard a crackling sound, as if someone had stepped 
on the debris on the ground. Tsur peered just around the bend in the 
corridor, staring at the gloomy corridor, but saw nothing. Then he 
heard another sound, like a footstep, and another.

	Tsur poked his head into the corridor. She still saw nothing. 

	But Croft staring ahead with infrared electrobinocurs, saw Tsur's 
head clearly. Using hand motions, he motioned for the team to withdraw.

	When they had gotten several corridors away, Yaney asked, "What 
was that all about?"

	"A trap," said Croft bluntly. "I noticed that while there was all 
sorts of garbage on the ground, that the intersection with the other 
corridor was clear, as if something had passed through there recently."

	"What did you see?" Tanil asked.

	"A very ugly Insect head," said Croft. "We can't reach the 
Silencer now. He's being watched and guarded too closely."

	"We can't just leave him," said Red Sally, her hair starting to 
sparkle.

	"We don't have the numbers for a frontal assault, and there's no 
other way to get easy access to him," said Croft. Suddenly, he made a 
shushing gesture, and they crouched down. In the distance they could 
see an Insect patrol passing by through a cross corridor. "Right now 
all we can do is worry about ourselves," he hissed. "Let's get away 
from here while we still can."

	After the patrol had passed, they slowly started their cautious 
trip back to the ship. As they passed by a dark side corridor, they 
didn't notice a hooded figure standing in the shadows, watching them 
go.



Chapter 2

Whatever happened to Mongo?



Turning back the clock:

Date: One Year, 11 Months after the Invasion



	"Always ungrateful," Mongo hissed. "Always ungrateful, and 
foolish, yes, very foolish."

	He was more irritated than usual. Croft and his allies had 
learned that Preston and Sashay were walking into a trap and had gone 
to rescue them. Mongo had tried to warn them but no, they wouldn't 
listen to Mongo. So as they headed in one direction, into a deadly 
ambush, Mongo headed into another.

	As he scampered away, possibilities of the future flashed through 
his mind. But they were all jumbled, all coming too quickly. Mongo, 
however, saw images of his being captured, or killed by the Insects. 
The bugs were very active today. If he wanted to escape, he'd have to 
move fast.

	Mongo headed down, down, down to the lowest levels of the 
underground. Insect patrols ran there too, but less frequently. He 
peered about cautiously in the gloom. Only the dim illumination of 
sparsely spaced emergency light panels flickered in the corridor. He 
heard the sound of water dripping. Nothing else.

	Mongo scampered away into the darkness.



	Three days later found Mongo on the edge of exhaustion and 
starvation. He hadn't eaten since he had left Croft's base, nor drank 
except for some questionable water dripping from a pipe. But at least 
he had moved away from the center of Insect activity; he had only heard 
sounds of movement twice, and both times in the distance. He had 
assumed it was the Insects, but hadn't stopped to check.

	Mongo stopped at an intersection and peered ahead in the gloom. 
Suddenly, a flash vision hit him; Mongo, being grabbed in the dark and 
taken away. Mongo tried to focus on the image, but couldn't get another 
flash of it. He tried to remember the image as best he could. Hands 
were grabbing him in a dark corridor.

	Mongo looked ahead. There were dark corridors to his right, his 
left, and straight ahead. Which one was the bad one?

	Mongo reflected, considering. His flash vision might represent an 
incident that might occur tomorrow, or next week. But no, he had felt 
an electrifying edge from the vision that told him it was imminent. But 
which way did the danger lay?

	Mongo peered down the left corridor, then the right one, then the 
one straight ahead. He mumbled almost inaudibly to himself while 
chewing on some of his nails. His pale eyes stared out at the gloom.

	Left, left, the danger must be down the left corridor, he sensed. 
Or was it? Mongo started to go down the right corridor, then stopped. 
Maybe the danger was down this corridor. Mongo was no longer getting 
visions, but instead relying on feelings.

	Mongo looked down the center corridor. Then, an idea struck him. 
Of course, he should go back the way he came! That would be the only 
safe route. Mongo was smart, very smart indeed.

	As quietly as he could, Mongo crept back down the corridor he had 
come from. His senses only spiked as he walked past a dark doorway. 
Before he could act on his intuition, a large form came leaping out of 
the darkness, pummeling him to the ground.

	Mongo squealed and tried to resist, but his attacker was joined 
by another, and another, and in moments they had him pinned.

	"Finally," said one of his attackers. "We've been tracking this 
one for close to an hour. Good thing he stopped so we could catch up. 
He'll fetch a good price, eh?"

	Mongo spat and tried to claw his attackers. But then a foul rag 
was put to his face, he found himself nearly suffocated by the fumes, 
and everything went black.



	Something was burning. Mongo blinked, and then instinctively 
covered his eyes. It was sunlight, raw sunlight, and for someone unused 
to the rays of the sun the light and the heat were bound to be 
uncomfortable. 

	But then a shadow fell over Mongo's face, and a giant head 
appeared. Giant, at least it appeared, because it was so close to 
Mongo's face. 

	An irritating giant smile appeared on the face. "Are we awake 
yet?"

	Something about that smile unnerved Mongo and he scampered away, 
still on his back. He struggled to sit up. He was inside some sort of 
dusty compound filled with dirty, weary looking humans. Looking 
further, he saw the area was surrounded with fences and guards.

	"What is this?" he said, looking up at the face. Now the head 
appeared normal sized.

	The man continued to smile. "I'm afraid you've been taken 
prisoner."

	"What do you want with Mongo?" said Mongo, getting up. He felt a 
bit light headed, but otherwise all right.

	"Want with Mongo?" the man asked, his smile turning slightly 
puzzled.

	"Why have you captured Mongo?"
	"I haven't captured you," said the man.

	Suddenly, an antique bell rang. All the humans groaned and 
struggled to get up. Armed guards entered the compound and used blows 
to get the prisoners on their feet.

	"They're the ones who have captured you," said the man, smiling 
again.

	"Get a move on, Smiley," one of their captors growled, giving the 
man an offhanded blow to the back of the head.

	Smiley, if that was his name, barely flinched. "Yes, my friend." 
He turned to Mongo. "Come on, it's time for work."

	"Work?"
	"We're agricultural workers. Isn't that exciting?"



	Ten hours of back breaking labor later, Mongo didn't find it so 
exciting. Smiley, who could talk a mile a minute, made it clear what 
had happened. He had been captured by slavers, and brought or sold here 
to work in back breaking agricultural labor. 

	Slavery, on August? When the Insects had invaded August, some of 
the humans had managed to flee to the periphery of the western 
continent, which still hadn't been developed and even had open land in 
some areas. The Insects apparently hadn't gotten this far out yet, and 
so the humans were free of molestation, at least for the time being. 
When Mongo had been kidnapped, he had been drugged and brought to 
western August.

	But food supplies were limited, and when the government 
collapsed, roving bands of gangs raided each other for what was 
available. When the food was almost gone, the bands turned to farming, 
but found it easier to use others to do the back breaking labor. So 
gangs that had formerly raided each other for food now raided each 
other for workers. Over time the raids yielded fewer and fewer results, 
so the gangs probed deeper into August, looking for labor they could 
co-opt. It was there that they "recruited" Mongo.

	So they didn't know about his special abilities; he hadn't been 
targeted for any special reason, and wasn't under any special guard. 
That means he should be able to escape. 

	As  Mongo worked he let the flashes of the possible future leak 
in, one by one. Climb over the fence over there? No, he would be shot. 
Cut through the fence at that point? No, he would be caught. What about 
over there? Mongo processed the possibilities, but didn't see any easy 
avenues of escapes. That was all right, sooner or later, he would spot 
a promising potential future and take advantage of it.

	If he survived. 

	There had been no substantial farming done on August for 
centuries. But planets that  did produced agricultural output were 
fully mechanized. Unfortunately, the slavers didn't have any 
autoplanters or roboplows at their disposal, and so used people for 
every step of the planting and plowing process, as they had untold 
centuries ago. 

	Mongo found the labor exhausting. His scrawny form wasn't built 
for heavy labor, and he wasn't used to it. But when he stopped, 
collapsing to the ground, an overseer rushed over. "Get up!" he roared.

	Without waiting for a response he launched out with his 
powerwhip. As the current lashed into Mongo's back he shrieked, jumping 
to his feet.

	"Back to work!" the overseer roared.

 	Mongo, with hate-filled eyes, picked up the small tool he had 
been given for digging, and laboriously continued to dig the ditch. But 
his arms felt like lead.

	"Gee, that wasn't a very nice thing for them to do," said Smiley. 
As Mongo soon learned, Smiley always was smiling.

	"Mongo weak. Mongo cannot survive," he said, digging slowly, but 
just fast enough not to attract a return visit from the guard, who was 
eyeing him caustically.

	"You just need some enthusiasm for your work," said Smiley. "Come 
on, dig, one-two-three."
	Mongo groaned. 

	"How about a song while we work?" said Smiley. "I have a great 
singing voice."



	Mongo managed to get through the rest of the day without being 
whipped again, but his arms had almost stopped working. After the 
digging detail in the morning, he had been set to lifting and moving 
heavy rocks around the perimeter. He knew he couldn't survive another 
day like this. He was so tired he could barely stand, but he managed to 
stand in line long enough for the daily ration. There hadn't been any 
breakfast, or lunch, so whatever they were fed, he hoped it would be 
sustaining. First they walked by a bowl of water which the serving 
prisoner dipped a large cup of water into. He handed the cup to the 
person in line in front of Mongo, who drank it eagerly. Then he stepped 
forward as the server refilled the cup, handing it to Mongo. Mongo 
looked at the contents of the cup. This was it? This was all they would 
be allowed to drink for an entire day?

	The guard standing by the vat barked at Mongo, and Mongo gulped 
the water down. The line moved forward, and Mongo saw the prisoners in 
front of him were moving forward with their hands cupped together. When 
Mongo got to the second part of the line a server ladled a pile of 
somethings into his open hands. Mongo cupped his hands tightly but that 
didn't prevent one or two of the somethings from falling to the ground. 
Before he could react, the person behind him in line had reached down, 
picked them up, and swallowed them.

	Mongo moved into better lighting to see what he held. They were 
small, green balls, some kind of tiny vegetable or plant buds. He put 
one in his mouth and tried to chew. It broke into very bitter tasting 
pieces. Mongo almost wretched. But he was hungry. 

	"Swallow them whole," said Smiley, suddenly appearing besides 
him. "That's the secret," he smiled.

	Mongo followed his advice. The plant buds or whatever they were 
settled uneasily in his stomach. But at least he avoided the unpleasant 
taste in his mouth.

	Smiley led him to a place where they could sit down on the 
ground.

	"Mongo cannot survive on this," Mongo groaned, almost collapsing 
from fatigue. "How do others survive?"
	"They don't," Smiley grinned. "The death rate is rather high." 
Mongo suddenly noticed that Smiley was holding a fancy pair of boots 
and polishing them. He wondered where Smiley had gotten the fancy boots 
from.

	"Why do they make so much effort to take peoples, and then let 
them die?" Mongo asked.

	"There's a terrible food shortage," said Smiley, vigorously 
brushing the boots. "The guards eat reasonably well, but there simply 
isn't much left over for the prisoners. At least, not for the regular 
prisoners." He smiled again.

	Smiley really irritated Mongo. He was so exhausted that the 
visions, which naturally popped into his head, were slow in coming. 
Mongo tried to think of a future where Smiley wouldn't be wearing that 
irritating smile, but he was now too weak to receive any visions.

	Straining to keep his eyes open, Mongo focused on something 
Smiley had said. "Regular workers?"

	"Yes, well, some of the prisoners eat better, those who clean up 
after the guards, those who go on raiding parties-"

	"Raiding parties?" Suddenly, a vision came to Mongo. He would go 
on a raiding party, and, and....

	The vision was hard in coming. But somehow he definitely got the 
idea that something, or someone, would help him escape. Who or what 
that would be was still a mystery to Mongo. But that was enough.

	"How Mongo get on raiding party?"
	"Oh, you can't," said Smiley, flipping one of the boots over to 
cheerfully brush the other side. "Only the favorites can."

	Mongo was dizzy from fatigue and couldn't think straight.

	"I could probably get you on a raiding party," said Smiley. He 
grinned broadly. "I'm a favorite."

	Mongo stared hazily at Smiley. Smiley was a collaborator. "How?"
	"I'll just ask," said Smiley. "The guards owe me favors, a lot of 
favors."

	"How?" said Mongo again.

	Smiley lifted their boots. "I always do their boots."

	"What does Smiley get in return for doing boots?"
	Smiley frowned, as if in deep thought for a moment. "Well, I've 
never asked for anything in return for doing their boots. One day one 
of the guards remarked how dirty his boots were, and  I offered to 
clean them. It just seemed the neighborly thing to do," he smiled 
again. 

	Mongo lost the willpower to keep his eyes open. The last thing he 
saw was Smiley's grin, and his arm, vigorously rubbing away at a dirt 
patch on the bottom of the boot.....



	"Get up, you!"

	Mongo woke up to a boot in his gut. He made an involuntary 
omphing sound and opened his eyes a crack to give them time to adjust 
to the bright sunlight.

	A guard with a blue beard stood in front of him. He was big and 
muscular and from Mongo's perspective looked like a giant.

	"I said, get up!" said the guard, kicking him again. This time, 
Mongo was alert enough to dodge partially out of the way as he 
scampered to a squatting position. "This is your lucky day!" growled 
the guard. "You're going on raiding party!"

	Mongo got to his feet, looking warily at the guard.

	"You're lucky, I'm only doing this for Smiley," said the guard. 
"But if you try to escape, or cause the slightest trouble, you'll get 
this," he said, suddenly striking out with an electrowhip.

	"Yeow!" Mongo cried out.

	"Just setting the ground rules," said the blue bearded guard.



	Mongo and seven other prisoners were taken for a ride into the 
outskirts of metropolis. They were warned to be very quiet for even 
here the Insects sometimes patrolled. They were taken down several 
levels to a storage area, and instructed to put anything of value into 
sacks they were given. Blue Beard (Mongo learned that was his name, or 
at least what the others called them), gave them a stern warning that 
they would all be closely searched when they returned, and if they hid 
any valuables on their person they would have to answer to him. He also 
warned that he would punish slackers who didn't acquire enough goodies.

	Mongo didn't have very much trouble after that. The work was much 
less physically demanding than laboring in the fields, and they spent 
the trip outside the reach of the blistering sun. His flashes of 
insight started to return to him, and he used them to locate valuables-
-small bits of electronics, clothes, and occasionally food--before the 
others did. It helped him avoid punishment and gave him more time to 
look around, and to think.

	Whenever they were brought into a room there were always guards 
posted at the exits. Whenever they left it was always in single-file, 
with guards at the beginning, middle, and end of the column. There 
would be no obvious chance to slip away, not unless they encountered an 
Insect patrol and Mongo could get away in the confusion.

	Mongo strained to recall the vision where he had seen himself 
escaping. But he hadn't actually seen such a vision, more like felt it. 
It was difficult to get back, and it wasn't at all clear whether it was 
the Insects who enabled Mongo to escape or something or someone else.

	Mongo stayed alert for all opportunities, but could see none in 
this trip. When they were herded back to the ground transport and taken 
back to the farm, the prisoners emptied their bags under the watchful 
eyes of the guards. 

	Blue Beard looked at Mongo's pile. "Not bad," he said grudgingly. 
"You did pretty well, for a first time," he said, shoveling objects 
into a bag he held. When he was done he glared at Mongo. "Are you sure 
you're not holding out on me?" he growled.

	Not waiting for an answer, he lifted Mongo by a foot, held him 
dangling upside down, and shook him violently to see what would come 
out.

	The only thing that came out of Mongo were his shrieks of terror. 
"No, we have nothing, nothing!" he cried. Blue Beard let him go, and he 
dropped to the ground like a sack of 30 day potatoes, sobbing and 
weeping.

	The other guards had a good laugh at Mongo's expense.

	They should have known better. But they didn't know Mongo.



	Perhaps impressed with his success on his first day out, the 
guards called Mongo out again for scavenger duty the following day. 
That was after he had another night in the barracks with the other 
prisoners. And Smiley.

	Mongo stood in line, wondering how much more food he would 
receive for the special duty he had performed. He was shocked to find 
the same small pile of plant buds in his bowl. He looked up at the 
guard serving as if to complain, but the expression on the guard's face 
muted him, and he involuntarily stumbled forward.

	"Promised they did," Mongo muttered. He sought out Smiley, who 
was busy working on another pair of boots. 

	"Uuummm, plant buds!" said Smiley.

	"Smiley says that Mongo gets more food, better food, for being on 
special detail," said Mongo.

	"Yes, I did, didn't I?" said Smiley. "I wonder why they didn't 
give you more. Did you remember to ask nicely?" he grinned.

	Mongo just stared at Smiley wordlessly, hoping his gaze would 
burn a hole through Smiley's forehead.

	"Oh, don't be sore," said Smiley. He passed a bowl over to Mongo. 
"Here, if it means so much to you, you can have my portion."

	Mongo, who had started to swallow his own portion, was so caught 
by surprise that some of the buds caught in his throat. He coughed 
some, dislodging them, and it took a few seconds to regain control.

	He looked at Smiley though narrow slits. What kind of trick was 
this?

	"If Mongo eat Smiley food, what will Smiley eat?" Mongo said. He 
reflected, briefly, that he didn't even know Smiley's real name. But 
others called him Smiley, and he seemed content to leave it at that.

	"Me?" said Smiley, busy polishing a boot. "Oh, I'm not hungry."

	Not hungry. They were given starvation rations and Smiley wasn't 
hungry. Mongo looked at Smiley critically. He didn't seem nearly as 
thin as the other prisoners.

	"What you eat?"
	"Nothing," said Smiley, shrugging.

	What was going on here? Smiley must have another source of food, 
better food, if he were willing to turn over his daily portion to 
Mongo. But Mongo couldn't fathom it. Right now, he had a more immediate 
need, and his stomach rumbled. 

	Making a face, he put Smiley's foul tasting bud ration in his 
mouth and swallowed.

	"Wasn't that good?" said Smiley.

	Mongo said nothing, not sure which disturbed him more--the fowl 
buds he had swallowed, or the oddities that made up Smiley.



	The next day Blue Beard, feeling that Mongo was moving too slowly 
to board the ground transport, gave him a friendly shove that sent him 
sprawling to the ground.

	Mongo quickly got up, dusting himself off as he glared at Blue 
Beard, who was leering at him.

	But everything else was all right. After the past day of 
relatively light labor, Mongo felt some of his old self returning. He 
even felt an anxious buzz. Something, or somethings were going to 
happen that very day that would present Mongo with an opportunity.



	When they got to their destination, they immediately went into 
the undercity. Mongo had gotten out of the transport but was held back 
by Blue Beard so he would be at the end of the line, with Blue Beard 
behind him. As they walked Blue Beard gave Mongo a little shove from 
time to time, just to let him know who was the boss.

	Mongo felt a flash, and then a shiver. Blue Beard was about to 
get a taste of who was really the boss.

	They were walking in a dark, underground level in single file. 
There was debris on the ground and they walked slowly along the left 
side of the hallway, where it was easier to step without tripping on 
anything. 

	Mongo waited until he reached a certain point, just a few feet 
before the intersection with another corridor, where he casually swept 
his right foot from the right, dragging a piece of something he knew 
would be there to the left side of the hallway. No one in the dark 
could see what he had done, and the debris only made a small scraping 
sound as it moved with his foot.

	Blue Beard, shuffling a few feet behind him, first noticed the 
debris when he stepped on it; but whatever it was, he slipped on it, 
and went crashing loudly to the ground, smashing against some discarded 
cartons along the wall.

	The other guards ahead in line rushed back to see what had 
happened; when they found out, they cursed Blue Beard for his 
clumsiness as he angrily got to his feet. Mongo looked away, hiding the 
grin that would surely have earned him a beating. This was only the 
beginning.

	Blue Beard tripped and fell twice more, and finally he tried to 
blame it on Mongo, but the other guards pointed out that Mongo was only 
walking where the other prisoners in front of him where, and that if 
Blue Beard kept being so clumsy that he would be sent back to the 
transport, alone.

	Blue Beard growled under their ferocious verbal assault and 
tauntings and yelled back at them. The guards were so wrapped up in 
their argument that they didn't notice the buzzing noise until it was 
almost upon them.

	And then the guards did notice, just as an Insect patrol turned 
around a corner.

	"Down!" a guard screamed, and the prisoners hit the ground, while 
the guards and the Insects started a loud firefight.

	Mongo got under partial cover behind a pile of rubbish--it 
wouldn't deflect a blaster shot, but at least it took him out of direct 
view.

	One guard was hit, and fell to the ground, and then another. The 
air was thick with weapons fire. Mongo eyed a side corridor. Maybe this 
was the opportunity for escape he had felt. Perhaps he could crawl 
away.

	No. An equally firm feeling told him to stay put. Mongo had 
learned to trust his hunches.

	It was a good thing too, for what happened next was very, very 
quick.

	Out of the side corridor leapt a... well, a humanoid figure, one 
who was almost too quick to see, at first. Guns blazing, he took out 
the remaining Insect guards before they had a chance to turn their 
weapons on him or even react. Even before their bodies hit the floor of 
the corridor his weapons were already holstered, and then withdrawn 
again, pointing down the hallway at the prisoners and the guards.

	"Don't shoot," said one of the guards.

	"If I had wanted to shoot, you'd already be dead," came a flat 
voice. The figure stepped into the light, and Mongo saw a hard face 
framed by a square jaw and short red hair.

	At this moment, Mongo sensed that this was the being he had been 
waiting for. This was his opportunity to escape. 

	The surviving guards got up and encouraged the prisoners to do 
likewise. Blue Beard was regrettably among them, and as the leader of 
the guards had been killed, Blue Beard now stepped forward to take 
charge.

	"You," he scowled, staring at the red haired man. "Haven't seen 
you in a while."
	"But I've been hearing a lot of you," said the red haired man. 
"Very clumsy."
	Blue Beard's face turned to rage, but for the first time Mongo 
saw him strive to control it.

	"I suggest we hold this meeting somewhere else," said the man. 

	They quickly entered a room off the corridor; the man only 
relaxed after checking it over thoroughly to make sure it held no 
hidden surprises. Even then he stood with his back to a wall so he 
could watch both the guards and the door.

	"Thanks for your help, Red," said one of the guards.

	"Thanks is cheap," said the man. One of his hands strayed near 
the butt of one of his blasters. "How much are your lives worth?"



	Some simply called him Red. He was a Graftonite, a killer for 
hire with fantastic reflexes. But however quick his reflexes were, his 
temper was even quicker, and his full name was Angry Red.

	At least, that's what he was widely known as. But no one called 
him Angry to his face.

	He had been on an assignment on August when the Insects had 
invaded. That hadn't stopped him from carrying out his assignment--the 
liquidation of a business competitor. When he attempted to collect from 
his employer, not only did he have to spend several months hunting down 
his employer, but once found, the employer, citing changed 
circumstances--the Insect invasion of August--didn't see the point in 
paying.

	Angry Red showed him the point in paying.

	Ever since then he had been stranded on August, making a living 
by scavenging, performing odd jobs for local gangs, or simply taking--
whatever he wanted, from whoever he wanted. There wasn't an Augustan, 
or a group of Augustans with the reflexes to stop him.

	The Insects, individually or in small groups, were a nuisance, 
and Angry Red steered clear of the larger groups. But as the Insects 
expanded their numbers he found himself pushed to the periphery of the 
western continent, which is why he happened to be there.

	He had had dealings with this group of guards before, trading 
goods. But now he had just saved them, and they were scared, and 
unbalanced; it was a great opportunity to take advantage of them.



	The guards looked uneasily at each other, realizing that Red 
could take whatever he wanted. "Maybe we could give Red some of our 
stash." They had just come from raiding a chamber earlier, and the 
prisoners had some goods in their sacks. The guards had had peaceful 
encounters with "Red" before, but they also feared him; and if Red felt 
that they owed him something, the guards were eager to pay up.

	The prisoners emptied their sacks under Angry Red's watchful 
eyes.

	"Pitiful," he sneered, shaking his head as he moved from prisoner 
to prisoner, eyeing the snatch.

	When he reached Mongo, his mind was racing, and everything was 
moving in slow motion as visions flashed through his head. How was he 
to hold his hand... was that... yes, just right?

	Angry Red looked down as Mongo slowly flashed something, a 
trinket perhaps, in his hand. "What's that?" he growled, bending down 
to grab it away from Mongo.

	But in that instant Mongo whispered in Angry Red's ear. 

	Angry Red stopped, in mid motion, and listened, eyebrows raised. 

	He stared at Mongo for a moment, as if he might strike him, and 
the others wondered what Mongo had said to him.

	And then Red, still facing Mongo and the guards, took several 
steps back, and started digging under some debris with his toes.

	His eyebrows shot up, and he picked up something with one hand. 
It looked like an electronic blow puncher. In good condition, too.

	"Have you been here before?" He asked it like it was an 
accusation.

	"No, no, never," one of the guards assured him, not realizing why 
it was wrong if they had been.

	Angry Red frowned, and the whole room grew nervous. "Then how did 
you know that was there?"

	"Mongo knew," said Mongo. "Mongo knows where to find many 
things."

	Angry Red looked at Mongo, then at the guards, then back at Mongo 
again, as if making a calculation.

	"I can have anything I want?" Angry Red said.

	"Sure, take your pick," said one of the guards.

	"Then I'll take him," said Red, nodding at Mongo.

	"Whoa-we're not authorized to trade prisoners," said Blue Beard

	Red let his right hand drop to his waist, where his blaster was 
holstered. "You did say anything."

	Blue Beard gulped. He knew how quickly Angry Red could draw. He 
could draw and fire before any of them could even raise their blasters.

	"That one's nothing but trouble."

	"Thank you for your concern, but I've made my choice," said Angry 
Red, as if the matter was settled.

	Blue Beard, sweating feverishly, nodded.

	Angry Red allowed himself to relax, slightly. "We go now. Come."



	And that's how Mongo escaped from the farm gang. But he didn't 
realize what he was getting into. Right after they parted company with 
the guards, Angry Red took Mongo back to his hideout, an abandoned 
supply room several levels down about a half mile to the north. Mongo 
obediently followed; there would be plenty of opportunities for escape 
later. Angry Red was only one man, and even he had to sleep sometime. 
In the meantime maybe he had some goodies in his hideout that Mongo 
could appropriate.

	Angry Red did have some interesting devices in his base of 
operations, but not all of them were ones that Mongo would appreciate. 
The first thing Red did when they entered was to grab Mongo by the 
throat. Mongo started to squeal and fight back but Red said angrily, 
"Don't move," and that sapped the fight out of Mongo.

	Angry Red took a collar off a shelf and put it around Mongo's 
neck, snapping an open part shut so it clicked together. Red then 
picked up a remote display with one hand while still holding onto Mongo 
with the other. Flicking a button revealed a red dot on the display, 
and several other indicators lit up as well. 

	Nodding in satisfaction, Angry Red released Mongo. Mongo 
sputtered and rubbed his sore neck, feeling the contours of the collar.

	"I wouldn't play with that," said Red. "It's liable to explode."

	"What have you done to poor Mongo?"
	"Every pet needs a collar," Red grinned. His grin was nothing 
like Smiley's. "Except this collar has a homing device, and an 
explosive charge. Try to remove it, and it detonates. Try to run, and I 
detonate it."
	He then sat down and grilled Mongo extensively about his powers. 
Red was smart enough to know that Mongo had some kind of special mental 
power. He asked Mongo many questions about his ability, and Mongo was 
forced to reveal that he was able to see things with his mind. But 
Mongo was able to deceive Angry Red in a small way--he allowed Red to 
believe that Mongo was only clairvoyant, that he could see things in 
other places with his mind. He didn't let on that his power was tied 
with the ability to see the future, or possible futures.

	This was an important distinction. Because Mongo could see the 
future, he could look for a future where, sooner or later, he managed 
to escape from Angry Red.

	But such a future had to have at least a potential to exist; with 
his boobytrapped collar, Mongo saw that in the futures where he tried 
to escape that Angry Red either tracked him down, or remotely detonated 
the collar.  Mongo shuddered; it wasn't pleasant seeing visions of one 
own's head blown being off.

	So Mongo was forced to cooperate. For several months he was 
forced to hunt for supplies for Angry Red. If he didn't work fast 
enough, or produce enough items that Red could use or swap for 
something else, Red would beat him, sometimes with his fists, or the 
hilt of a blaster rifle, or even with a stick.

	He treated Mongo like an abused animal, only feeding him as an 
afterthought, requiring him to sleep in a distant corner of the room on 
a dirty mat with the word "Fido" painted on the wall behind him. It was 
some kind of joke Angry Red found amusing. But he was seldom amused, 
and Mongo never knew when he was going to burst into a fit of rage and 
beat him.

	Mongo frantically searched for futures where he would be free. If 
he ran far enough in the underground, there should be enough metal 
between him and Angry Red to prevent a detonation signal from reaching 
him.

	The problem was that Mongo didn't know how far was far enough; in 
a few futures, he saw scenes of himself escaping and not getting his 
head blown off. The only problem is that those visions were for short 
term futures; there was no saying whether in a "safe" future he 
wouldn't get his head blown off thirty seconds after the time shown in 
a vision. It would be just like Angry Red to roam around the 
underground, hoping his signal got close enough to detonate the collar.

	Mongo constantly weighed his fear of beatings and mistreatment 
with the fear of escaping and constantly being in fear of being blown 
up. If he could only get the remote control from Angry Red! But Angry 
Red carried it on him full time, even sleeping. If the collar was 
indeed boobytrapped, then Mongo couldn't leave unless he got the remote 
control.

	Or, as it gradually occurred to Mongo, unless Angry Red was dead.



	That thought first occurred to him after a particularly vicious 
beating Red inflicted on him for "wasting time" and "not bringing 
anything good back" on one of his latest hunts. Red constantly 
suspected that Mongo was simply goofing off when he sent him to find 
items that Red could use or sell, and this time he let him have it 
repeatedly in the stomach with the butt of his blaster rifle. 

	Red seemed immune to Mongo's screams of pain. Red only stopped 
when decided he had made his point.

	Mongo was really hurting. Something inside him snapped as he lay 
there in pain. He wouldn't endure another beating again, no.

	He stayed up all night searching futures. Finally he found one. 
It was risky--in about half the futures Mongo ended up clearly dead, or 
ambiguously dead. But Mongo couldn't take this anymore.



	The next day Mongo uncharacteristically volunteered to go out 
alone to hunt for useful items.

	Angry Red interpreted that to mean Mongo wanted to goof off, and 
said they would both go together.

	Good. It was happening exactly as described in Mongo's vision. 
All he had to do was what he had done in the vision.



	It really wasn't very difficult. Red relied on Mongo to find 
useful objects. All it took was a vague suggestion that one hallway was 
better than another, or that a room might contain something useful, and 
Red would follow. Red didn't seem to suspect that Mongo was up to 
something that wasn't in his best interests. After all, he only thought 
that Mongo was a clairvoyant, and what harm could a clairvoyant do?

	Mongo guided Red to several places where they found a few small 
items. It was necessary to start this way--if they found nothing, Red 
would be suspicious. But their entire day had been directed towards an 
event that would take place at the next juncture of corridors. If Mongo 
kept going, they would both be safe. But if Mongo paused in the 
intersection... well, he would either be free, or dead. It would 
require very tricky planning.

	For there was an Insect squad in the area. Under normal 
circumstances, Red could take them handily. Mongo resolved to make the 
circumstances as abnormal as possible. But he couldn't tilt the odds 
too far the other way; if the Insects won the encounter, they could 
kill him just as easily as Red could. That was the difficult part; with 
so many possible future outcomes, it was difficult to decide what to do 
to get the right one. Should Mongo take such a dangerous risk? It would 
be much easier just to walk on.

	Red gave him a little shove as they neared the intersection, and 
Mongo silently thanked him for making up his mind for him.

	When they reached the intersection. Mongo stopped.

	Angry Red glared. Angry Red always glared.

	But Mongo reached out with his arms and closed his eyes, and 
Angry Red thought he understood was Mongo was doing.

	Angry Red couldn't have been more wrong.

	Mongo opened his eyes a crack. Was it this corridor, in this 
direction? Or was it in the other direction, behind him? He wasn't 
sure.

	He could hear Red fuming behind him. He couldn't keep at this 
forever.

	It must be this corridor, in this direction. Therefore, he needed 
to go the other way.

	Turning around, he walked a few feet down the corridor in the 
other direction, where he saw a stack of debris.

	Just like in his vision. 

	Mongo started rooting through the debris. Because he was 
listening for it, he could hear a very, very faint, buzzing from behind 
him, in the distance. Good.

	Mongo sifted through the debris, making as much noise as he 
could. Angry Red, facing him, glared and said, "Do you have to make so 
much noise?"

	Mongo continued to make as much of a clatter as he could, both to 
attract the Insects and to mask their approaching sound.

	Angry Red wasn't dumb. Realizing something was afoot, he reached 
forward and grabbed Mongo by the arm.

	For a second all was quiet and they could clearly hear the buzz, 
much louder now, from behind them.

	Mongo's mind recorded the events that happened next in slow 
motion. Angry Red wasn't stupid. His eyes flickered at Mongo's, showing 
shock, surprise, and recognition. He knew what Mongo had done. But then 
he was releasing Mongo, spinning around as he drew his blaster. There 
were Insects down the corridor, several of them.

	In the split second he took to aim, Mongo gave him a shove, 
pushing him against the wall.

	His first few shots went wild. 

	The advantage that all Graftonites have is their tremendous 
reflexes, giving them the ability to shoot first (and second and third 
and fourth). When they lose that advantage, they can be shot at much 
like anyone else.

	The Insects fired first, sending blaster bolts streaming down the 
corridor. It was during this steady stream of fire that Angry Red 
readjusted his aim and fired back. 

	A bolt sizzled next to Mongo as he dived behind some rubbish.

	The bolts went back and forth furiously for a moment. And then, 
there was silence.

	Silence. That meant the Insects were dead, or gone. But what 
about Angry Red?

	Mongo heard a shuffling. He looked up and saw, a few feet away, a 
blaster, pointed straight at him. Angry Red was shuffling towards him, 
blaster pointed straight between his eyes.

	Mongo tried to think of something he could say or do that would 
save his life. But nothing came to mind. He had gambled, and lost; he 
had fallen into one of those futures in which he didn't survive.

	Red shuffled closer, and closer. In the bad light it was 
difficult to see his expression; his entire body was in shadow.

	And then Red stopped, aiming straight at his head, and the gun 
wavered... and Red fell crashing to the ground, rolling on his back.

	It was only then that Mongo could see that Red had been shot in 
the gut. Taking a deep breath, Mongo scampered over the body and pulled 
the remote control from Red's belt. Then he danced back a few feet.

	Mongo stood there silently for a moment, looking for any sign of 
life. He felt a temptation to go back and feel for a pulse, but if Red 
was alive, he might take the opportunity to grab him. 

	Mongo eyed the bloody wound. Surely Red was dead. Even if he 
weren't dead, he was surely dying. There was no possible way he could 
survive just lying here, in a corridor. Even if another patrol didn't 
find him, he would surely bleed to death without medical attention.

	Mongo tried to probe the immediate future. In no one could he see 
any sign of Angry Red.

	But Mongo was afraid to get closer to be sure that Angry Red was 
dead. In a last gesture, he leaned forward, and spat on Red's face. 
Red's eyes were closed, and didn't flutter.

	Mongo, feeling an intense sigh of relief, scampered away down a 
corridor.

	Finally, he was free!



***************************************************************



From the personal log of Clifford Croft, two years and nine months 
after the Invasion



	I'm brilliant, but I'm not a magician. 

	That's to say that I can do incredible things. I've made a career 
of it. But in order to get anything done, it has to be within my means. 
I'm a spy, an infiltrator; if I can do it on my own, I'll do it. But 
leading a large scale revolt, well, that's not in my resume.

	We had relocated to a scenic spot on the edge of the metropolis 
in western August, that is, the western part of the western continent, 
Concord. Sarney Sarittenden, the capital, where the Insects are located 
in the heaviest concentrations, is on the east coast of Concord, and 
the Insects have been spreading westwards from there.

	Occasionally I wonder what, if anything, is going on in Aridor, 
the eastern continent. It is, or was, largely uninhabited; it might 
make a great place to hide, once the Insects totally overran Concord. 
That's assuming they weren't overrunning Aridor at the same time. Do 
the Insects have any use for undeveloped wilderness?
	That leads me to another thought: last I heard, my scientist 
friend Levi Esherkol was on Aridor. I wonder whatever happened to him. 
If he was warned in time, perhaps he was able to get into the bush and 
hide. There certainly was more than enough forest to hide in, and the 
Insects weren't likely to make an effort to root out one, fleeing 
human. Chances are he was a lot safer than I was right now.

	We are attempting to organize some of the locals into a 
resistance group. At first when we got here, a few months ago, we 
didn't see any Insect patrols, but soon we saw one occasionally, and 
now we see patrols at least once a day. They're spreading, and with the 
western coastline not far off, there isn't much else where we can 
retreat to. Nor can we easily escape to Aridor. Aridor is several 
thousand miles away on the other side of the globe; the closest 
approach is only fifty miles away, but that's on the east coast, near 
Sarney, and we're near the west coast.

	So I do what I can: organizing some of the refugees, going on 
raiding parties,  striking a blow at the Insects. But most of the 
survivors of the Insect occupation who are free are civilians who are 
scared witless.



	"We will not get involved," said the scraggly leader, Maprune. 
"We are pacifists, and believe in non-violence. In any case it is the 
duty of you, the military, to protect us"

	Croft sighed as he stared at the other scraggly civilians, most 
dressed in dirty, ragged clothing, as they sat around in the burned out 
lobby of the entertainment center they were in. Red Sally and the 
Clapper stood behind him, while Tanil and Yaney kept an eye out for the 
Insects. Sashay had begged off joining them on this recruitment tour, 
saying he wanted to stay home to prepare a special supper.

	Croft considered the words he had heard. "There are so many 
things wrong with what you said that I'm not sure where to begin," 
Croft sighed, realizing from their expressions that he, too, hadn't 
said the right thing. But he wasn't a diplomat, he wasn't a leader, he 
was pressed into this position by default. Who else was going to lead 
them? A finicky cook? A claptomaniac?

	"For starters, I'm not military," said Croft. "I'm a spy."

	"Spy, military, what's the difference?" said Maprune. "You are 
trained with violence in mind."
	Croft reflected that he did in fact have violence in mind at this 
very moment. "Secondly, if you are pacifists, the Insects are not. What 
will you do when they come here and hunt you down?"

	"The Insects will not come," said Maprune.

	"We have started seeing some of their patrols coming out this 
far," said Croft.

	"If they come we will move farther west."

	"You are almost on the west coast already."

	"We will show we are not a threat by not defending ourselves."

	"Do you have any connection, however slight, with reality?" Croft 
said. He turned to the others, who were watching him with wide eyes, 
and raised his voice. "I have an e-mail for all of you: the human race 
is about to become extinct. If you keep going the way you are, you'll 
either be dead or enslaved before the end of the year. Is that what you 
want?"

	Maprune's group watched him silently.

	"Are you deaf?" Croft yelled. "Do you not understand my words? 
Isn't anyone going to say anything?" He caught the eye of one of the 
fugitives, who stirred. "You? Yes, you, sir, did I catch a hint of a 
thought?"

	The man slowly said, "It's the job of the military to defend us."

	"Hello!" said Croft, leaping forward and pantomiming as if he 
were knocking on the man's forehead. "The military is gone. Dead. No 
more military. If you want to live, you have to-"

	He stopped in mid-sentence. Somehow, somewhere, he had the 
feeling he was being watched. He looked around for a moment. All he 
could see was the gloom of the surrounding buildings, which appeared to 
be dark and empty.

	Croft spoke into his comm unit. "Report."
	"All quiet," came Tanil's voice.

	"Yaney?" said Croft.

	There was a silence for a moment. Then, "All quiet. Except for 
you, chief. Can you lower your tone a bit? I don't see them coming, but 
yelling is an invitation-"

	"I don't need a lecture about my lectures. Out" said Croft, 
closing communications. The feeling, whatever it was, was gone now. No, 
it hadn't been like a feeling, but more like an emotion....

	He looked at the others. "You type 29 sheep can go home now. If 
any of you get a backbone, let me know."

	He snapped his fingers to get the attention of Red Sally and the 
Clapper, and hooked his thumb out and down. They were leaving.



	As Croft left the building, a hooded figure in shadow across the 
street nodded slightly, and followed.



	They made the same appeal to other groups of scavengers over the 
next few days. Some were apathetic. Most were fearful. A few even 
begged Croft not to attack, for fear it would incite the Insects. 

	With every encounter Croft grew more and more disgusted. Finally, 
though, he encountered a group that seemed to have a little backbone.

	"An Insect patrol took two of our people last week," said their 
leader, Alped. "If you're going after them, more power to you!"

	This was like music to Croft's ears, compared to the defeatism he 
had been hearing. "We can defeat them, but only if you join us."
	"I don't know," said Alped. "We don't have many weapons, and we 
aren't well-trained."

	"Our first strike is a supply warehouse less than a mile from 
here," said Croft. "It's probably filled with all sorts of goodies. 
Including food."
	At the mention of food Alped's ears picked up. "We'll fight with 
you!"
	"Good," said Croft.

	They arranged to meet at sunrise the following morning at a 
predetermined location.  As Croft made his goodbyes and turned to go, 
he got that feeling again. This time he identified it. It was a feeling 
of... anticipation. But it didn't seem natural in him; it seemed, 
somehow forced. He looked around at the buildings in the area, but saw 
nothing out of the ordinary.

	He also failed to notice the hooded figure who followed him home.



	Croft let everyone know at dinner what was planned for the next 
day.

	"Going into battle, eh?" said Sashay, serving dinner. "Then I 
think it's appropriate that I made battle stew tonight."

	"It's about time," said Red Sally. "I'm tired of all this 
speechifying. I came here to fight, not run for public office."

	The Clapper clapped supportingly.	



	The next day they waited in the ground floor of a building a 
block away from the supply dump, just before sunrise. But as the sun 
rose ,the others didn't show up.

	Minutes turned into an hour.

	"Maybe they overslept," said Tanil.

	"Overslept! Clap! Overslept! Clap!"

	"We'll just have to do this without them," said Croft grimly.

	At that moment they heard noise, and drew their weapons, but it 
was only Alped and three of his followers.

	"We're here!' said Alped cheerfully, making no mention of the 
fact that he was an hour late. "My feeling is that we would bring up 
the rear-"

	"Where's the rest?" said Croft.

	"What?"
	"There were over twenty in your group when I met you, and you 
said there were still others I hadn't met," said Croft.

	"Ohhhh yes," said Alped. He looked embarrassed. "Many of our 
people weren't up to it. They're not used to getting up this early in 
the morning."
	Croft said nothing. Red Sally's blonde hair started to fringe 
red, and a light steam could be seen around her.

	"Let's do it," he said bluntly.

	They snuck up at close as they could without being detected, 
around the corner from the warehouse.

	"Ok, I scouted this place two days ago," said Croft. "There are 
only a total of eight guards-"

	"Eight?" said Alped. "But there are only eight of us. That isn't 
very good odds."

	"-once we take out the ones at the door, your people race in go 
to the right, and we'll take the left."

	"You mean in front?" said Alped. "I was thinking that perhaps we 
could secure the rear."

	Croft turned to Alped. "You can either follow our plan, or leave, 
now."

	Alped considered for a moment, and then nodded.

	Croft caught the eye of Red Sally, Yaney, and Tanil. The Clapper 
and Sashay had stayed behind. 

	The three nodded at him, and he nodded back.

	Croft eyed the sentries at the entrance, took a deep breath, and 
gave the hand sign to attack.

	There were two guards at the entrance to the warehouse, and the 
Insects barely had time to look up and squeeze off a wild shot or two 
before they were gunned down by shots from their attackers. Croft 
barely paused as he ran past their bodies into the warehouse; as per 
the plan, he, big Red, Yaney, and Tanil took the left side, while 
Alped's people went right.

	Croft nearly ran into an Insect guard as he rounded a corner; but 
Croft was ready to attack, and the Insect wasn't. Croft fired at point 
blank range and the Insect went down. Around him he could hear the fire 
from other weapons.

	In seconds it was over.

	He called out.

	"Secure." They announced, one by one.

	Good. Croft slowly walked to the other side of the warehouse, to 
see how Alped's people at done.

	Two Insects opened fire on him as he rounded a bend. He ducked 
behind a stack of containers but their shots caused a shelf to fall on 
him, pinning him down.

	The Insects came closer so they could get a clear shot. Croft 
reached for his blaster, but his arm was pinned down under the shelf.

	Suddenly Croft felt a heat wave and both Insects burst into 
flames. In the distance he could hear several more blaster shots. 

	And then it was all over. Yaney came racing up and helped Sally 
pull the shelf off of Croft.

	"Now that's what I call cookin'!" said Red Sally, her hair a 
bright red as she admired the charred Insect corpses.

	"What happened to the others?" Croft said.

	He quickly discovered that there were no others. Alped and his 
people had never entered the warehouse. The two wild shots the guards 
at the entrance had squeezed off had been enough to scare them away.

	Croft mechanically ordered Sally to take the lookout point while 
the others collected the goods. But even as he issued orders he was 
shaking his head. This wasn't going to work. Enough was enough.

	As they headed back to their hideout Croft took the rear point 
position, and constantly looked back. But he still didn't spot the 
hooded figure following him.



	"So what are we going to do now?" said Sashay, as he started 
serving dinner.

	"If only we had the Silencer," Croft muttered. "He would be worth 
50 of these sheep."

	"We tried rescuing him once," said Yaney. "He's too heavily 
guarded."

	"Then we'll just have to keep staging attacks," said Croft. "If 
we do nothing, we'll be overrun in a few months. And in case any of you 
forget, we have almost nowhere left to retreat."

	"As my dear departed wife used to say, don't invite the world in 
through the front door unless you're sure there's a way out the back," 
said Sashay.

	"What about Aridor?" said Tanil

	"Aridor! Clap! Aridor! Clap!" the Clapper clapped.

	"Sure, we could hide out there easily enough," said Croft. "There 
are even three separate ways to get there. We could take the 
subcontinental tube from Sarney Sarittenden, if it weren't swarming 
with thousands of Insects. Or we could fly a shuttle, if we had one. Or 
we could build a raft and float several thousand miles."

	"Even if we do kill some of the Insects, they must have vast 
breeding farms," said Yaney. "What difference will killing a few of 
them make?"

	"You mean, why not just give up now?" said Croft morosely. He 
drew his blaster, and tossed it across the table so that it fell into 
Yaney's lap. "Point it at your forehead, and press the trigger."

	He abruptly got up and left the table.

	"I hope it wasn't my food," said Sashay.

	Croft retrieved his blaster and went outside for a walk. Lately 
even a simple walk outside was becoming a riskier proposition, but 
Croft desperately needed time to think.

	The fact was, that Yaney was right. Their pitiful rearguard 
effort wouldn't change anything. In a matter of months, they would be 
dead.

	Croft found that the thought depressed him. In his mind he 
started weighing the alternatives. Steal a ship? Then what? He might 
get blown up before he ever got out of orbit. He could make for Aridor, 
then. That might buy him some time.

	But what kind of life would he live there, all alone in the 
forest? He'd go mad.

	He could take Red Sally and the others with him.

	Still, what kind of life would he have there? All his time would 
be spent in subsistence farming. What kind of life would that be?

	At least he'd be alive.

	But was it a life worth living? Did he even have a realistic 
chance of stealing a ship?

	As he slowly walked around the underground and weighed these 
options, he gradually felt a layer of depression being stripped from 
him. Then another, then another.

	Suddenly, he felt normal again. Not happy, not ecstatic, but 
normal.

	Croft was smart enough to realize that his emotions were being 
controlled, manipulated, from an external source.

	He sensed a presence behind him. Somehow he knew that when he 
turned around-

	Croft wheeled around, his blaster drawn. A hooded figure stepped 
out of the shadows created by the dim emergency lighting.

	Under other circumstances, Croft would have fired first and asked 
questions later. But suddenly he felt a wave of reassurance that dulled 
his trigger-quick instincts.

	"You can stop with the mental cheerleading sessions," said Croft. 
"I'm not going to shoot you, at least until I know what it is that I'm 
shooting."

	"You are the one," said the voice.

	"The one? The one what?" said Croft.

	"The one I've been looking for," said the voice. "The fact that 
you are so inner aware proves it."

	Croft decided to risk some stronger lighting; he turned on his 
belt unit. A beam of light revealed....

	....an old, bearded man in brown robes.

	"Who are you?" said Croft.

	The old man didn't answer, but projected a feeling, one which 
can't be easily described in words.

	"Something about you feels familiar," said Croft, staring 
intently at the face. "I don't know you, but-"

	"You did know someone like me," said the man. "Things tend to 
follow familiar patterns, and I am now doubly sure I chose rightly."

	"Chose what?"

	"Why you, of course," said the old man. "I have chosen you."

	"To do what?"
	The old man looked quizzically at him. "To save your people, of 
course."





Chapter 3: The Return of General Arkik



	Mongo peered out into the gloom. He had been clever, yes, very 
clever. For the past few months he had been living on his own, evading 
the Insect patrols and even the human scavenger parties, using his 
talent to the hilt to help him survive. There never was a time that 
Mongo wasn't hungry; in this environment, it was impossible to have 
your stomach filled all the time; but Mongo was surviving, and doing 
reasonably well on his own. Sometimes he could see certain 
circumstances when he would be caught by a patrol, or a group of 
slavers, and avoided going to those places until the threat had passed.

	So Mongo survived. But he still wore that annoying collar that 
Angry Red had put on him. He had to stop himself from tugging at it 
sometimes, remembering that Angry Red had said it was boobytrapped. 
Someone like Croft could have removed the collar.

	Croft. He wondered what had happened to Croft, and the other 
annoying ones, the bounty hunter, the one who clapped too much, the 
pretty lady with the blonde and sometimes red hair. Mongo even thought 
about the sissy cook. He made very good food. What had happened to 
them?

	Mongo presumed they were dead; at least, he hadn't received any 
more visions of them. But then he usually only got visions of other 
people when they were already around him, or were about to be.

	Suddenly Mongo stiffened. For the first time since his escape, he 
had a vision of a very familiar figure.

	It was Angry Red.

	He was alive!

	Mongo grew taut as he "saw" Angry Red come around a corner, and 
realize that that was just outside the building that Mongo was perched 
in.

	Cautiously, very cautiously, he peered outside the window. He 
waited five seconds... ten seconds....

	Then a figure appeared on the corner. Looking down at him, Mongo 
saw he had red hair.

	The figure was holding some sort of device that he was peering 
into. He panned it left, then right. And then up.

	And then the figure looked up, and Mongo found himself staring at 
Angry Red.

	Mongo took off at a run. He didn't know if Red had seen him or 
not, but obviously he had constructed another tracking device.

	And then, as he sweated heavily while running, another thought 
occurred to him--could Red detonate the explosives with his new device?

	As he ran, he half-expected an explosion. Nothing happened. 
Either Red couldn't, or Red wanted him alive, or Red hadn't seen him.

	Mongo scampered away as fast as he could.



*****************************************



	"Me?" said Croft. "I'm not exactly the leader type."

	"I didn't say you would lead them, certainly not all by 
yourself," said the bearded man. "I just said you would save them. And 
you won't do it alone. Others will help."

	Croft started to feel an infusion of self-confidence. Maybe he 
could do it!

	"Wait!" said Croft. "Who are you? How did you find me? What's 
your agenda? How am I going to defeat the Insects? And lastly, though 
I'd like this answered first, is how do I know I can trust you?"

	The old man smiled, deciding to answer Croft's first question 
first. "You would feel more comfortable with a name? Very well. Lately, 
people have called me Inspir."



*****************************************

	Croft returned to the hideout, followed by his mysterious new 
friend.

	"It's all right," said Croft, gesturing for everyone to lower 
their guns as Inspir followed him into their hideout. "He's a friend. 
His name is Inspir."

	"Really?" said Red Sally. "How did you know that, from his name?"

	"Just a hunch," said Croft. 

	"How trusting of you, to bring home any hooded stranger who 
appears kindly," said Sally tauntingly.

	"I know it seems strange," said Croft, "but experience has taught 
me to trust this kind of feeling." And he wouldn't elaborate further. 
"Tomorrow we're going to assemble a gang of local fighters, and attack 
an Insect patrol."

	"Whatever you've been smoking, can I have a puff?" Red Sally 
asked.



	Croft located another ragtag group of refugees the next day. He 
was accompanied by his team, as before. He once again was preparing to 
give his sales pitch, to recruit volunteers to attack the Insects. The 
only difference, this time, was Inspir.

	Croft made his pitch more aggressively than ever before. "We need 
to give the Insects a bloody nose!" said Croft. "If we don't fight 
back, they'll overrun us! They've forced us to live like rats, and are 
slowly exterminating us! Do you want to live, and fight like men, or do 
you want to die? I say Fight! Fight for yourselves! Fight for your 
freedom!"

	Suddenly, the refugees, who had been murmuring all during Croft's 
speech, broke out into a chant. At first, Croft thought they were 
mocking him, but he quickly heard what they were chanting

	"Yes! Yes! Yes! Let's fight! Death to the Insects! Death to the 
Insects!" they chanted.

	"Death to the Insects!" Croft shouted back. Despite the fact that 
he knew the source of the inspiration, he allowed himself to be swayed 
with the moment. Even Red Sally and others were chanting too.

	"Death! Death! Death to the Insects!" they shouted. For once, 
they didn't pay any attention to how loud their voices were or who they 
might attract.

	They immediately prepared for battle. The crowd didn't want to 
wait--they wanted to attack the Insects on the spot. It was as if a 
match had been lit on a slow burning rage.

	Croft looked over to Inspir, as if to ask, sure, they're excited, 
but can they really fight?

	Inspir, standing inconspicuously in the corner, gave the 
slightest of nods, and Croft felt oddly reassured.



	The Insect patrol had been beefed up, because of the recent 
attack on the warehouse. Fifteen Insects slowly walked down the empty 
street clutching their enormous blast rifles, their multiplex eyes 
scanning this way and that.

	Suddenly, they heard a human voice shout a word, and they were 
caught in a crossfire, as humans came out of the buildings on either 
side and opened fire. They even opened fire from above, in the first 
and second stories of the overlooking buildings as well.

	The squad was raked by blaster and laser fire. Half the squad was 
immediately cut down. The ones who managed to fire back were unnerved, 
to say the least, by this never before seen aggressiveness. One of them 
fired and hit a human, but as the human dropped to the ground another 
human appeared behind, scooped up the weapon, and started firing again!

	In moments it was over. The entire squad had been wiped out, and 
they had only taken two casualties, and no fatalities. A ragged cheer 
went up in the crowd. Although they had had the advantage of surprise, 
and had outnumbered the Insects nearly two to one, it was still quite a 
victory.

	Croft, grinning widely, suddenly found Inspir standing by his 
side.

	Croft looked questioningly at Inspir.

	"It begins," said Inspir, with a small smile.



*****************************************



	Mongo kept running through the street. He was delirious with 
fear. He could now no longer afford to sleep for more than an hour or 
two at a time; the fear that Angry Red would catch up to him was too 
strong. Every so often he would have a vision of Angry Red catching up 
to him, or getting close.

	Suddenly he stiffened and, getting another vision, dodged behind 
a pillar.

	For a long moment nothing happened, and Mongo wondered if he was 
getting paranoid again. Sometimes he would get visions that Red was 
closing in on him and then nothing would happen.

	Angry Red chose that moment to step around a nearby corner. He 
looked at his device as he took a few steps.

	Mongo, mostly hidden from view by the pillar, took off at a run.



*****************************************



	"So just when I've succeeded in organizing the local gang, you 
take me away," said Croft, as they drove around in a ground car in the 
dead of night.

	"The local gang, as you call them, will survive without your 
presence for a few days," said Inspir. "And you are needed more 
urgently elsewhere."

	"It's great that you know my needs better than I do," said Croft. 
"I'm not accustomed to being guided."

	"You are very individualistic," said Inspir. "That's what makes 
you a good leader."

	"Correction," said Croft. "That only makes me a bad follower. 
Take this idea of yours of driving a ground car more than 1200 miles 
north on a whim. If I were in full form, I would question the need for 
doing this. I would ask 'where are we going, Inspir', without settling 
for a vague answer that I'm needed somewhere. I might also question how 
long we're going to go without being detected."

	"We will not be detected," said Inspir, the wind from their 
acceleration pulling at his robe.

	"How can you be so sure?" said Croft. "You never know when we'll 
encounter a patrol, and this air car makes a not inconsiderable noise, 
in case you didn't notice."

	"We have passed close to several patrols already," said Inspir.

"Yes?" said Croft, doubtfully.

	"Yes," said Inspir.

	"And why didn't they investigate?"
	"Because they didn't notice anything," said Inspir.

	Croft gave him an odd look and said, "Although you talk more, 
you're even less coherent than the Silencer."



*********************************************

	"Tzzz-Ta! Tzzz-Ta!  Tzzz-Ta!" the audience shouted. 



	The Silencer blinked at the bright sunlight, displaying the 
thousands of green Insects lining nearly every seat in the stadium.

	Several dozen feet away stood their top champion, Tzzz-Ta. After 
dozens of bouts, the Insects had decided to pit him against the best 
they had, Tzzz-Ta had killed 94 humans with only its appendages. It was 
a giant, even for an Insect, a little over eight feet tall.

	The Silencer squinted, and briefly recalled how he had gotten to 
this point.



	It had been last night, in Czzz's quarters.

	"Why is it you never speak?" Czzz had asked. "You are our top 
human gladiator, and yet you grant no post-game interviews, you do 
nothing to establish character."

	The Silencer said nothing.

	"Even now you seek to defy me with your silence. Do you think 
that you are so valuable that I would not hesitate for a moment to have 
you terminated?"

	The Silencer looked down at the bindings he was wearing, and then 
briefly at the half dozen armed guards around him. It wasn't necessary 
to chain most prisoners when they were brought before Czzz, but as the 
guards around the Silencer began to drop like flies, they had had to 
take more preventive measures.

	Czzz reached out with a claw to touch the Silencer under the 
chin. The Silencer felt a stab of pain but didn't flinch. Czzz gently 
stroked the Silencer's throat.

	"It would be so, so easy to terminate you...."

	The Silencer still said nothing.

	Czzz abruptly released her grip and turned away. "There has been 
some call to have you face Tzzz-Ta, our most prized gladiator. Have you 
heard the name?"
	The Silencer had indeed heard the name. Every prisoner who had 
been called out to face Tzzz-Ta had never returned.

	"I've grown fond of you," said Czzz. "At least, as fond as one of 
our kind can be towards one of yours. You're an amusing pet. But if you 
want to stay as my pet, you have to learn some manners. If you face 
Tzzz-Ta, you will die. It's that simple. If you want to stay alive, you 
have to ask me the favor of not fighting Tzzz-Ta."

	The Silencer said nothing.

	"That's all you have to do, just ask," said Czzz. "Out of 
kindness, you won't have to beg."

	The Silencer said nothing.

	Czzz stomped an appendage down on the ground, and stood face to 
face with the Silencer. "This is your last chance!" Czzz shouted 
through her translation device. "If you do not speak, you will face 
Tzzz-Ta, and you will die! What is your answer?"
	The Silencer spoke, for the first time.

	"Please Czzz."

	The guards murmured. This was the first time in recent memory any 
could remember hearing his voice.

	"What?" said Czzz, suddenly delighted.

	"Come closer," the Silencer whispered.

	Czzz came closer.

	"Closer," said the Silencer.

	"Grab his arms!" Czzz was smart enough to say; for though his 
hands were cuffed, the Silencer was still capable of violence.

	Czzz was now face to face. "Now, what would you say?"

	The Silencer slowly opened his mouth, his eyes boring into 
Czzz's.

	"Please," he whispered. "Let me kill Tzzz-Ta."

	And then, before the shock set in, he gave a mighty kick that 
cracked two of Czzz's internal carapace supports and sent her spinning 
across the room.



	The Silencer eyed the two foot sword he had been given and 
compared it to the four foot sword Tzzz-Ta had been given. Undoubtedly, 
this was a final touch of revenge on Czzz's part. The Silencer waved 
the sword experimentally with his good left arm, to get a feel for it. 
His right arm still wasn't working.

	As the applause and chanting slowly subsided, Tzzz-Ta spoke 
through its translation device. "Are you ready to die, human?"
	"At any time," said the Silencer coldly. 

	Tzzz-Ta charged, brandishing the sword like a spear.

	The Silencer dodged to the side, but Tzzz-Ta was quicker than 
most Insects, and changed direction as the Silencer did, and the 
Silencer was forced to jump out of the way to avoid being speared.

	"I am genetically enhanced to be as fast as you, Silencer!"

	"How nice for you," said the Silencer dryly. For the first time 
in a while he faced a real challenge. All right, then, he would have to 
follow the Graftonite rules of combat: finish things quickly, and 
finish them first.

	Tzzz-Ta charged again, but this time the Silencer did something 
totally unexpected--he ran away, towards one of the walls of the 
massive stadium.

	Tzzz-Ta followed rapidly catching up with giant, clumping steps. 
The crowd roared, thinking the Silencer ran out of fear.

	The Silencer never looked back, but when the clumps reached a 
certain volume and the shadow over his shoulder grew to a certain 
length he did a backflip, springing into the air, and--

	It was so quick that the holovids had to replay it three times at 
reduced speeds from different angles so everyone could figure out what 
had happened. The end result, though, was the same.

	Tzzz-Ta suddenly and quite unexpectedly found the Silencer's 
sword impaling its throat.

	Tzzz-Ta fell to the ground, and the Silencer jumped to the side 
to avoid being crushed. He looked coldly at the crowd which, after a 
moment of stunned silence, started to buzz angrily.

	The only emotion the Silencer showed was to raise his sword, and 
he yelled one,  solitary word at the top of his lungs: "Next!".



**************************************************



	"Halt!" said a human soldier, springing out from behind cover. He 
was brandishing a very modern looking blaster rifle, and he was quickly 
joined by two of his companions. All were in army uniforms, Croft 
noticed with interest, and their uniforms were cleanly pressed.

	Croft made no motion, other than to turn to Inspir, who had led 
him here. 

	"We're here to see the General," said Inspir.



	"Who are you?" said the trooper. "And how do you know the General 
is here?"

	"We're expected," said Inspir. "You'd better check."

	The soldier spoke into a throat com.

	"Where are we?" Croft hissed, unconsciously bundling up in the 
cold. It was quite cool here in the northern sector.

	"At our destination," said Inspir.

	They had driven for several days to get here, wherever here was.

	The guard listened to his audio input and nodded. "Sorry, sir. 
You're expected."

	"As we should be," said Inspir soothingly.

	"Just hang a left and stop by the entrance to the bunker."

	Croft started the ground car up again and headed left. He was 
surprised to see a large courtyard with marching troops performing 
formations.

	"What? How?"
	"Not all your army was destroyed in the initial attack," said 
Inspir. "And many who survived fled here."

	They got out of the aircar and walked past a squad of soldiers 
who eyed them suspiciously but had obviously been given orders to let 
them pass. 

	"Here?" said Croft. "What's so special about here? Why don't the 
Insects come-" And suddenly it came to him. "Of course! The cold! The 
Insects are basically bugs-"

	"And bugs don't like cold," said Inspir. "They can actually 
tolerate this weather in the warmer months, but don't have the means to 
permanently terraform this part of your planet without making drastic 
climactic changes. But that's not the only reason the military settled 
here."

	They were politely but firmly frisked at the door of the bunker 
and Croft was relieved of his weapons. A search of Inspir didn't turn 
up any kind of devices.

	"So what' s the other reason the military gathered here?" said 
Croft, as they entered the bunker.

	"I expect I am," said a familiar face.

	Croft was stunned.

	It was none other than the legendary General Jeffrey Arkik. One 
of the most famous generals in Alliance history, he was known, in a 
complimentary way, as the "Norman North of ground combat", having led 
numerous military campaigns over the past few centuries. But General 
Arkik had retired decades ago. Obviously, he had come out of 
retirement.

	Croft had met the General once or twice before, briefly, and it 
was obvious that Arkik recognized him.

	"Sir," said Croft. "I didn't even know you were still alive, much 
less on August-"

	"Pah!" said Arkik dismissively, speaking in an old East-Euro 
accent, in a way reminiscent of Levi. "It seems everyone has overlooked 
me. When August was attacked, did they look for me? When the army was 
being decimated, did they call on me? No. They panicked, or they ran, 
or they died." The general pointed his walking stick at Inspir and 
squinted. "Only this one came looking for me. Some of my former 
comrades in arms had gathered here, and we began setting up defenses. 
But this one helped gather many more of the troops who had fled, and 
sent them here."

	"The Insects don't attack here?" said Croft.

	"Of course they attack!" said Arkik, looking at him like he was a 
fool. It was then that Croft remembered that Arkik was also famous for 
having little patience. "But not as much as I might like. They can't 
establish all-year bases here, you see, because of the weather. So they 
send in long range patrols, and we destroy them."
	"How large are your forces?" said Croft eagerly.

	Arkik gave him a warning glance. "Small, for now," he said. "But 
growing. Most are regulars, from the uniformed services. But your 
friend here has the crazy idea that we can conscript new recruits."

	"They have the will to fight," said Inspir.

	"But do they have the skill?"

	"You'll only find out if you try to train them," said Inspir. "We 
don't have the luxury of waiting. Much of the rest of the western part 
of Concord is about to be overrun. Your forces alone aren't nearly 
enough to stop the Insects. You need to stop the Insects, or, at a 
minimum, delay their advance so the civilians who survive in the west 
can evacuate to the northern sector."

	"It makes sense, in theory," said Arkik. He snapped his walking 
stick at Croft, who jumped. "And you? What do you think of this idea?"

	"I'm just along for the ride," said Croft weakly. 

	"So this is the leader of the civilian resistance," said Arkik, 
looking at Inspir. "If I didn't know that he was one of the Agency's 
Eight, I might have been deceived by his mild manner."

	"Hey, who're you calling mild mannered!" said Croft, suddenly 
becoming belligerent.

	"Better," said Arkik. "But your people will have to be made of 
sterner stuff to fight the Insects."

	"I have some experience doing just that," said Croft.

	"Oh really?" said Arkik. "What have you done, sniped an isolated 
outpost here, or a two person patrol there?"
	"Last week we took out a 15 being patrol," Croft snapped. 

	"Wow. Fifteen," said Arkik sarcastically.

	"And a few months ago, I led a raid into the heart of Sarney 
Sarittenden itself."
	Arkik's eyebrows shot up. This time he really was impressed. He 
turned to Inspir. "Does he speak the truth?"

	"Look at me when you speak," said Croft. "I'll be the one to 
answer your questions."

	Arkik nodded, and gave a tight smile. "I'll gear up and get ready 
for our trip." He turned away and left the room.

	"Very good, Clifford," said Inspir.

	"Don't you patronize me, either," said Croft. "I feel like a pet 
who's just performed a recital."

	"If so, then the pet won first prize," said Inspir.



************************************



	Huffing and puffing, Mongo made his way back to his hideout. He 
had been moving around, shifting from hideout to hideout, but so had 
Angry Red. He was definitely following him.

	And yet... Angry Red hadn't found him. There must be some limits 
to his tracking device. Probably it didn't work beyond a certain range, 
or in the underground. That was Mongo's only advantage.

	Mongo settled down on the rumpled bedding he had prepared for 
himself and sat with his back against a wall. His thoughts were miles 
away, his mind racing, so it took a few minutes for him to realize that 
there was something different about the wall opposite him.

	Peering closely, Mongo saw new marks on the wall. No, not new 
marks, words.

	"You're going to die!" it said, in big red letters.

	Angry Red had found this particular hideout. He had recognized it 
as one of Mongo's hiding places. It was only chance that he wasn't here 
now, waiting to spring a trap.

	Suddenly Mongo had a vision, a vision of Angry Red leaving to get 
something to eat, and another vision of Angry Red coming back to resume 
his watch on Mongo's hideout.

	Mongo was on his feed and scampering away as the vision faded 
from his mind. It was only chance, and Red's sadism in leaving a 
warning message, that had saved him from getting caught.

	This time.



************************************



	"Incompetent fools," muttered General Arkik. 

	They were back on the western edge of the continent; not actually 
at the very edge, of course, which was lined with a mountainous ridge, 
but close to it, where Croft had made his initial recruitments. Arkik 
was watching some of their new civilian recruits running through a 
drill.

	"How are we doing, General?" asked Alped.

	Arkik just stared at him, as if surprised that a civilian would 
have the teremity to address him directly.

	"You're making progress," said Inspir, putting a reassuring arm 
on Alped while steering him away. Alped glowed with that positive 
evaluation.

	Arkik watched a recruit trip over his own gun. "Keystone cops," 
he muttered, making an obscure historical reference.

	"Maybe things are going better at the firing range," said Croft, 
gesturing to another part of the subbasement where they had set up the 
impromptu training facility.

	"Unlikely". They walked over to the training facility, and 
watched the recruits firing their weapons.

	"They're hitting the targets," said Croft.

	"About half the time," Arkik noted. "We'll only be fine if near 
misses can kill."

	"Inspir, can you work on him?" said Croft.

	"No, none of your feel-good trickery for me," Arkik snapped, 
waving his stick as if to ward off a mental attack. "Give it to them, 
they need it more."
	Inspir smiled. "Naturally they are not going to have the same 
aptitude as your trained soldiers, not all in one day. But they have a 
fighting spirit, and that's the most important thing of all."

	"Really?" said Arkik. "And what else is more important than 
combat skills?"

	"Victory," said Inspir. "And that's why you need another one."
	"Maybe we could take out another squad," said Croft.

	"I was thinking of something bigger in mind," said Inspir. "One 
of their subregional headquarters, the forcebridge on level 242 of the 
local Commerce Building."

	"The gravitator station?" said Croft. "Too dangerous. They use 
that to see for miles in every direction."

	"Which is precisely why we have to take it out," said Inspir. 
"It's a ready means of backstop support for the Insects. You take that 
out and you remove their backup. Not to mention their morale."

	"They're not ready," said Arkik. "And I only have a handful of my 
men with me."

	"Then you should have more," said Inspir. "Send for two more 
squads from the north. We'll make a combined attack with 30 of your own 
men and 50 of the best candidates."

	Arkik spat, "This is foolishness!"

	"Trust me, General," said Inspir, looking at him in an odd way. 
"You have the will, and the means. Stop doubting yourself."

	Arkik paused, then nodded. "All right. I'll send for the men." 
And he stomped off.

	"You have a way of convincing the hard to convince," said Croft.

	"You'll have to learn how to manage him when I'm gone," said 
Inspir.

	"Are you leaving?" said Croft suddenly.

	"Soon enough," said Inspir.

	"Where-"

	"I am needed elsewhere," said Inspir.

	"Where elsewhere?"
	"Many elsewheres, to be precise," said Inspir. "While the fight 
for August is an important one in the War against the Insects, do not 
believe that your fight is the only one going on August, or on other 
planets, or in space."

	"Why are you so concerned with our war against the Insects?"
	"I am always involved when the stronger is subjugating the 
weaker," said Inspir. "Especially when the weaker have the potential to 
be so much more. My work extends far beyond your little conflict with 
the Insects. There is much you do not yet understand."

	"None of which I'm sure you'll enlighten me."

	Inspir laughed, and put a fatherly arm around Croft as they 
walked across the length of the basement.



	When the additional troops had arrived and four days had come and 
gone, Inspir deemed the time was ripe to attack. He held a war council 
with Croft and General Arkik.

	"These civilians aren't ready," said Arkik.

	"They will never be ready until they get actual combat 
experience," said Inspir. "And each day you wait increases the hold the 
Insects have on your planet."

	"I'm afraid I agree with Inspir, General," said Croft.

	Arkik glared at Croft. "It does not inspire me with confidence 
that you are afraid of anything."
	"Only an irrational person fails to experience fear or 
apprehension," Croft counters. "I still think this stunt is too big, 
that we should go with a smaller target."

	"You need to think big," said Inspir. "Word is spreading. There 
are a dozen groups of scavengers who are thinking of joining the 
resistance. If we secure one, big victory, we'll unite them instantly 
in a way that would take months to do otherwise."

	"All right," said Croft. "But how do we even get up there without 
them seeing us?"

	He indicated a diagram of the facility. Arkik had brought a 
briefcase holoprojector which had been programmed with the schematics 
of the area. Arkik pointed with his walking stick while going over the 
facts of the situation. "The Insects have an entire company of troopers 
in the area of their subregional headquarters on level 242 of the 
Commerce Building.  Level 242 is actually a forcebound plaza that 
extends over the gap between the Commerce Building and the building 
opposite it, the Water Building, giving the Insects an unbridled view 
of the street going miles east and westwards, and, as it is taller than 
many buildings in the area, to a lesser degree to the north and south 
as well. One platoon provides security in each building, while elements 
of two gravitator platoons are on duty at full time. The gravitators 
themselves are on a full standby status here," he said, pointing with 
his stick to the force bridge plaza, "while the gravitator troopers are 
believed to be in makeshift barracks here," he said, pointing to the 
interior part of the level in the Commerce Building.

	Arkik turned to Inspir. "How do you propose to get there without 
being seen, and eliminate a force nearly twice our number?"

	"Did I also forget to mention we're going to steal those 
gravitators?" said Inspir. "That will undoubtedly make the plan even 
more challenging, but also more rewarding."
	They all looked at him like he was mad.

	"I see I did forget to mention it," said Inspir. "But that really 
is the primary reason for this mission. Once you have those 
gravitators, you will regain regional air superiority; at low 
altitudes, of course."

	"So we're just going to walk in and steal their gravitators?"
	"More or less," said Inspir.



******************************************

	"Poor, poor Silencer."

	The Silencer stood stoically, his right arm slowly dripping 
blood.

	"Perhaps fighting three of our beasts was too much for you," said 
Czzz, walking carefully around the Silencer, without getting too close. 
Even now when he was wounded, surrounded by guards, and with his legs, 
hands, and arms bound, Czzz was a little afraid of getting too close.

	In fact, the three beasts, two giant bumble bees and a warrior 
ant,  had almost been too much for the Silencer. While he had been 
fending off the ant with a sword using his good left arm, one of the 
bumble bees had almost implanted a killer stinger in his lame right 
arm. Not that it really mattered much; he hadn't been able to use it in 
a while anyway.

	"Our veterinarians say they could restore the use of your right 
arm, if I requested it," said Czzz. "All it would take would be a 
request... if you asked me nicely...."
	The Silencer said nothing.

	"On the other hand, perhaps we shall simply amputate it," said 
Czzz, getting angry now. "What would you say to that, Silencer?"

	The Silencer simply glared at Czzz, but continued to be silent.

	"Oh, get out of here!" said Czzz angrily, not remembering that 
the Silencer's feet were bound. 

	The guards interpreted that as a signal and carried him off.

	"There must be something I can do to get him to talk," said Czzz. 
She turned to an aide. "Find out everything you can about this 
Silencer."



******************************************



	It was just before sunrise that Croft, Inspir, and 28 other men 
went sliding down a rope onto the roof of the Water Building adjacent 
to the Commerce Building.

	The men were handpicked, as much as their limited selection 
allowed, to those who could climb down a diagonal steel strand from one 
building to another, and to those who knew how to fly gravitators. In 
practice that meant they took about 20 of the general's men and about 
10 of the new recruits.  Arkik had toyed with using all of his men for 
this part of the effort, but that would have left the ground forces 
without skilled direction. They could have used more men overall, but 
they had to keep an adequate backup force for the ground attack. Even 
if there were more than 30 gravitators and they grabbed "only" 30 of 
them, it would be a great victory for the resistance.

	They exploited the first security flaw in the Insect's defense 
system: The Insects put guards in both buildings on either side of the 
force bridge that extended over the street, 242 stories up; but they 
didn't put guards on the roofs of either buildings, enabling a small 
team to gain access to the Water Building by going down a higher nearby 
rooftop, using a thick length of steel rope, and a rope gun.

	Croft slowly worked his way down, using his hands. The pain on 
his arms were enormous; and if he dropped down, not only would he be 
severely injured (the Water Building rooftop was still some distance 
down), but he would in all probability alert the Insect troopers.

	But that was all right. Finally he was returning to what he did 
best: Infiltration work. A small touch of doubt nagged at him as he 
remembered what Inspir had said to him the night before, right before 
the mission. But he put all thoughts of that out of his mind now. He 
had a job to do.

	Croft was number two to land on the roof; number one was one of 
Arkik's experienced troopers, and he immediately moved to the 
stairwell, standing guard with his weapon at hand.

	Croft watched the black clad troopers come down one by one. He 
wished they'd hurry. It would be light soon.

	There was no sign of trouble until number twenty four came down 
the line. He was almost at the end, and safely on the roof, when he 
lost his grip with one of his hands. He dangled there by one hand, 
trying to regain his grip with the other hand, but failing...

	Croft snapped his fingers, and two of his men started running. 
The man held onto his grip for a few seconds longer.... and dropped....

	right into the arms of the two troopers below him. He barely made 
a sound.

	Croft nodded as the troopers gave the universal thumbs up signal, 
and the troops continued to stream downwards.

	When all thirty of them had made it safely on the rooftop of the 
Water Building he turned to Inspir, who nodded.

	They went down the unguarded stairwell, counting flights until 
they were on the 243rd floor. One floor below them, they could already 
hear the buzzing of the opposition.

	Well, here goes. Taking a deep breath, Croft gave the signal.

	The troops rushed down the stairwell, clomping heavily. Surprise 
was no longer an issue now; Intelligence had indicated that there could 
be anywhere from five to ten Insects on this side of the force bridge, 
and it was unlikely that they could take them all out quietly. So what 
they lacked in subtlety they make up for in speed. They would quickly 
overpower the guards, rush out onto the force bridge, and take as many 
gravitators as they could. When the guards from the Commerce Building 
rushed out onto the force bridge, Inspir would cut the power, sending 
them plunging to their deaths.

	The first part of their plan worked just as advertised.  They 
quickly overpowered the guards on their side of the force bridge, and 
Croft was pleased to see that his troops stayed calm and collected, 
although most of them were, after all, trained soldiers. Even as the 
last Insect body hit the ground of the control station, Croft's troops 
were running onto the force bridge and strapping themselves into 
gravitators.

	Alarms started to go off on the far side of the force bridge in 
the Commerce Building, and Insects started to emerge from the far side. 
"Now," said Croft into his throat mike.

	At that moment several things happened at once.

	The ground forces opened fire on the Insects on the ground far 
below them, keeping them pinned down to prevent them from reinforcing 
the troops on the 242nd floor, while also opening an avenue of escape 
when they were ready to retreat.

	Two of Croft's men who had stayed on the roof of the Water 
Building started to spray down blaster fire on the Insects who started 
to emerge from the Commerce Building.

	And two more men kneeled down on the same level at the force 
bridge and opened fire on the force bridge's entrance at the Commerce 
Building.

	Croft stayed behind to provide covering fire as well. Inspir was 
in a room behind him working the generator controls, getting ready to 
cut the power. 

	That left two dozen men to get the gravitators. Even a quick 
count showed there were many more than that, perhaps three dozen. Well, 
whatever they couldn't take would be destroyed when the force bridge 
cut out.

	The view was truly spectacular but Croft didn't have time to 
admire it as he and his two soldiers traded laser barrages with the 
Insect troopers on the far side. Every time they would shoot down one 
Insect, two more would take its place.

	Meanwhile Croft's men were caught in the crossfire as they raced 
to the gravitators and strapped themselves in. Several were shot as 
they ran for the gravitators, or as they strapped themselves in. One 
was shot just as he launched, and he careened against the side of the 
Commerce Building before crashing into a fireball on the ground below.

	But in groups of two's and three's many successfully launched, 
taking off. Croft and his men tried to provide covering fire as best 
they could, but now the Insects were firing and charging at the same 
time. The laser fire was only getting fiercer from the other side and 
it was a relief when the last gravitator launched and Croft could order 
his troops to take cover behind a small wall, which at least gave them 
some cover.

	A sizable number of Insects were now on the force bridge, the 
solid shining bridge over the street far below.

	"Inspir, now," said Croft, telling him to cut the power.

	The Insects continued to advance. A laser burst cut near Croft.

	Croft raced inside the Water Building. Inspir was staring at the 
controls, muttering something.

	"What's wrong?" said Croft. "Just destroy the controls!"

	"It doesn't work that way," said Inspir slowly. "The controls are 
actually on the other side of the bridge, in the Commerce Building," he 
said, his face looking grave.

	Everything slowed down for a second. Croft knew that their plan 
was in peril. In order for the six of them--he, Inspir, the two guards 
on the roof, and the two guards holding off the Insects a few feet 
behind Croft--to escape, they needed to use the elevator to get down 
those 242 floors rather quickly. But if the Insects were right behind 
them, they could cut the power or even worse sever the lift cables and 
send them crashing to a fiery death.

	Inspir barely hesitated an instant, and then put an arm on Croft, 
"Don't worry about it," he whispered. "And remember what I told you."

	And with that he walked past Croft, past the two guards, and onto 
the force bridge. 

	Time slowed down again as Croft watched from a nearby window. 
Inspir strided briskly across the bridge. It seemed like he was 
invulnerable, until a laser bolt hit him. He staggered, then stood 
upright, then another bolt hit him, and he staggered again, but he 
always kept going.

	And then he was at the Insect's front line, now nearly a third of 
the way across the bridge, and Croft thought they would tear him to 
pieces, but they just ignored him like he wasn't even there. Inspir 
gently tiptoed around them, not an easy thing to do on such a crowded 
platform, and, grasping his body where he had been shot, made his way 
inside.

	Despite the covering fire and the supporting fire from the roof, 
the Insects continued to advance. One of the two soldiers a few feet to 
the left of Croft was hit and fell, a sizzling wound in his chest.

	Crouching low, Croft crawled over to his body. His partner looked 
inquiringly at the body as Croft felt for a pulse.

	"He's dead," said Croft. "Keep firing!" he yelled opening up with 
his own blaster, trying to keep low.

	The Insects were closing now, about half way across the bridge, a 
mere 25 feet away, and Croft was considering a run for it, down the 
stairwell. Hey, it was 242 flights, but the Insects would have to climb 
down them too. Just when the laserfire over his head was the thickest, 
and he was about to give the evacuation order, he heard a groan, and a 
reduced whine as if something were powering down.

	The laser fire abruptly stopped and Croft risked popping his head 
up to see an amazing sight.

	The force bridge was flickering in places, fading in parts. The 
Insects didn't have any emotions on their faces but they were surely 
terrorized; for standard Inse