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Nightfall on August

by Steven Gordon





Part I: Roughing it on August



Chapter 1: The March Across August



	It had been victory, but at a terrible cost. 

	For nearly 20 years the Insects had occupied Alliance planets, 
enslaving the human race. It was only after years of resistance, and 
the return of a rebuilt fleet led by War Admiral Norman North, that 
they were able to finally liberate their homeworlds.

	But their victory had come at a terrible cost. As a parting act 
of spite, the Insects had used some sort of weapon to disrupt all power 
systems on nearly all Alliance worlds. The Queen leading the invasion, 
Zsst herself, came to August, the capital of the Alliance, in a mighty 
Monumental ship, intent not only on disrupting the power on the planet 
but also destroying it utterly with a Monumental superweapon.

	Zsst used an energy dampener to disrupt the power on August, as 
she had on most major Alliance worlds. But then, just as she was about 
to destroy August with the superweapon, the Monumental ship turned 
around, and simply disappeared from known space. No one knew why.

	But the damage Zsst had done was significant enough. Most 
Alliance worlds were without power. That would be a disaster on any 
world. 

	On August, it was worse than a disaster.

	Imagine a city so large that it spanned an entire continent, and 
you imagine August. Everything from transportation to food to medicine 
to industry relied on power. Even at the height of the Insect 
occupation the generators kept running, supplying the resistance with 
the power they needed to run their underground electrofarms. There were 
some conventional farms on the periphery of the continent, but they 
only produced a small fraction of the food needed to support the 
population.

	And now, suddenly, the lights went out. Everything stopped 
working. The power generators cut out. The hot lamps which powered the 
underground farms cut out. The entire planet was cut off, surrounded by 
a sparkling field of particles that prevented any ship from safely 
landing, that even prevented communications from coming in and out. 
August was one, big, prehistoric prison, and everyone on the planet was 
trapped there.



	The power to all electrical devices had been cut off right after 
the energy suppression field hit. Unfortunately, one of those 
"electrical devices" was a small fighter, just in the process of taking 
off, when power was lost.

	The wreckage from the long range Trobadore B two seater fighter 
littered the street, burning everywhere. A bloody hand reached up 
unsteadily to push some of the debris away.

	A person attached to the hand struggled to free himself from the 
debris as well as the parachute attached to the chair ejection 
mechanism. The figure stood up, revealing the equally bloody but grim 
face of Clifford Croft, resistance leader and super spy, one of the 
Agency's Eight.

	Croft wiped the blood off his forehead as he looked around. He 
felt fuzzy and lightheaded. It must be the concussion, he thought 
dimly.

	Croft tried to look around, but despite the small fires burning 
around him a glittering haze was filling the air, preventing him from 
seeing more than a few feet in any direction. Had his vision been 
impaired?

	Croft felt unsteady, like he had trouble standing; he fell back 
to the ground, and tried to cut through the buzz in his head and 
concentrate.

	He had been in the backseat of the Trobadore B. The pilot had 
tried to eject, but when power was lost, the automatic eject system 
went out with it. His last memory was of the pilot pulling the manual 
eject lever....

	Aeronautical engineers knew, of course, that pilots would have to 
eject under a variety of circumstances, including when they had lost 
power, and had provided a manual release mechanism. But the extra 
seconds that the pilot had taken to move from the automatic to the 
manual ejection button had nearly been fatal.

	Perhaps fatal, for the pilot. Croft and the pilot of the 
Trobadore had ejected separately. He tried to look around, to see if he 
could see any signs of the pilot.  But that dim, glittering haze was 
blocking his vision. Croft felt the painful spot on his head. Had he 
suffered brain damage that injured his vision?

	Croft stiffened as he heard crackling sounds, as if someone was 
moving through the wreckage. Could it be the pilot? No, not from the 
sound of it, unless the pilot brought several friends with him.

	He was reaching for his blaster when he slumped over and blacked 
out.



	Croft slowly awoke to find himself lying on a table in an 
underground room. The room was illuminated by a small flame driven 
torch on the wall. The room was covered in that sparkling mist, making 
it difficult to see. Croft closed his eyes hard, and reopened them. He 
saw people moving in the mist. Croft groaned, and started to sit up. 
His head was throbbing, and he felt a sharp pain in his side.

	Someone came over to him out of the mist. "You're very lucky," 
said the figure.

	"I'm not so sure," said Croft, guessing that this must be a 
member of the resistance. He felt his body. It was painful on his right 
side and right leg, like he had twisted something, but at least nothing 
seemed broken. Maybe he was lucky. He tried looking around, but his 
vision was still blurry. "There's something wrong with my vision," he 
said.

	"If you mean the mist, there's nothing wrong," said the man. "At 
least, not with your vision. It's from that bug weapon they used on 
us."

	Bug weapon.

	It all came back to Croft. The Insects had used some kind of 
weapon to dampen power on the entire planet. That's what the sparkling 
particles were.

	"What about the pilot?" said Croft, standing up painfully. He 
checked his blaster; it was still in its holster. Good. Or was that now 
irrelevant?

	"There was no sign of him," said the man.

	Another shape moved in the blur.

	"He's conscious, sir," said the man.

	"Thank you, Corporal, you're dismissed," said the second man. He 
turned to Croft, stared at his face, and look startled. He said, "I 
think I recognize you, from the broadcast at the victory celebration. 
Could you really be..."

	Croft looked up expectantly.

	"Clifford Croft?" said the man.

	"In the flesh," said Croft, groaning as he felt a pain in his 
back. "Barely. What's the situation?"

	"Lieutenant Pomiter, sir, resistance group 7-2," said the 
officer, saluting. "All power has been cut."

	"Planetwide?" said Croft.

	"There's no way to tell," said Pomiter. "We don't have power for 
the comm system. The situation is already starting to get chaotic on 
the surface."

	"I can imagine," said Croft. He considered the possibilities. 
"The fleet must know what's happened to us... if the fleet survived."

	"Can we count on their help, sir?" Pomiter asked.

	"It depends how high in the atmosphere this disturbance goes," 
said Croft. "My guess is that we'll have to rely on ourselves, for the 
time being. "

	"Yes sir," said Pomiter. "We're cut off from other resistance 
groups, except those closest to us. Our most immediate problem is the 
food situation."

	"The food situation?"

	"The power cut out to the heat lamps for our underground farms.."

	Croft immediately understood the implications. Without light, the 
farms would die. "Can you move the farms to the surface?"

	"Even if we could, there's no light out there."

	"No light?" said Croft, stunned.

	"Sir, you crashed in broad daylight, two hours ago, but right now 
there's only a dim light outside. Most of it is being jammed by those 
particles," said Pomiter.

	"I think we're in trouble," said Croft.



	They took stock of their situation. There had been nearly 50 men 
under Lieutenant Pomiter's command; but after the victory celebration, 
many had dispersed or gone their own separate ways; only 32 remained. 
There was enough stored food to feed those 32 for perhaps fifteen days. 
And there was no way to grow any additional food.

	"Show me a map," said Croft automatically.

	"I can't, sir," said Pomiter, pointing to the holodisplay. "No 
power."

	"Then draw me one," Croft snarled.

	"Sir, I can't draw an exact map-"

	"A general map of our location on August will do," said Croft.

	It took several minutes for Pomiter to find a writing implement. 
He drew a rough map of August, and their location.

	From Pomiter's drawing, it appeared that they were a bit east of  
the center of the western continent, Concord.

	Croft stared at the picture and hmm'ed to himself for a moment. 
"How long would you estimate it would take us to get to Sarney?"

	"Sarney, on the east coast?" said Pomiter.

	"Is there any other Sarney Sarittenden?" said Croft.

	"On foot?" said Pomiter. He frowned, concentrating. "I don't 
know. Maybe 25 or 30 days.."

	"Then that's where we have to go."

	"Sir, we don't have enough food to get there," said Pomiter.

	"If we have enough food for fifteen days, we'll make it if we go 
on half rations, if we cover, oh, maybe 20 miles a day," Croft figured.

	"Half rations? How can we march 20 miles a day on half rations?" 

	"We don't have much choice," said Croft grimly.

	"What can we hope to accomplish even if we get to Sarney?" said 
Pomiter. "Is there any food stored there?"

	"No more than anywhere else," said Croft grimly. "But that's just 
a stone's throw from Aridor."

	"Aridor?"

	"Think, Pomiter. What's just about the only place on this planet 
where vegetation is growing naturally?"

	"The eastern continent," said Pomiter. "But we can't eat 
vegetation."

	"We most certainly can, if it's a choice between that and 
starvation," said Croft. "And I see no alternative by staying here. We 
can't eat technosteel buildings. It's either go for Aridor, or stay 
here and starve."

	"Sir, shouldn't we think about this?"

	"Every minute we spend thinking about this is one more minute we 
give hunger to build, one less minute that we spend getting to Aridor," 
said Croft. "And each minute that passes the chaos on the surface will 
only increase. How long do you think it will be before wild gangs kill 
anything that moves on the surface, hoping to get a scrap of food?"

	"We're disciplined soldiers, sir," said Pomiter. "We'll get you 
to Sarney."

	"That's great," said Croft. "But discipline won't be enough." In 
a swift motion he drew his blaster and fired at the opposite wall. 
Nothing. "How will we even be able to defend ourselves?"



	The troopers gathered up their remaining food and a few blankets 
and were ready to go an hour later, which was fifty minutes too long 
for Croft's tastes. To Croft's satisfaction, Pomiter set up the column 
in a staggered formation, designating advance scouts to go ahead of the 
main force. Perhaps this Pomiter was actually competent.

	It was broad daylight outside but the particles were so thick 
that they blotted out the light. They could barely see where they were 
going. And yet, these sparkly particles couldn't be touched, or felt. 
Only seen. What exactly had the bugs hit them with?

	They marched with only two short breaks until nightfall, when 
travel was impossible. As they rested in an abandoned lobby, Croft 
groaned as he lay down. The throbbing in his head had subsided, but the 
pain in his leg had increased. He gingerly felt his leg. It was sore, 
but it functioned. That was good. A broken leg could be a death 
sentence right now.

	It was pitch black outside. With the power out and the particles 
blotting out the light of the stars, nothing could be seen.

	The morning came dimly. When it was bright enough to see a few 
feet ahead, they started marching again. The particles were so thick 
that psychologically it made them feel like they had trouble breathing, 
even though they couldn't actually feel the particles. Well, some of 
them claimed they could feel the particles, that it made their hair 
stand on end. Croft didn't speculate, but just kept walking.

	From time to time they encountered other people, scavengers. A 
few stopped to beg for food, but they had none to spare. Croft's 
stomach rumbled most of the time after the two short meals they 
permitted themselves. Existing on half-rations were bad enough; but 
existing on half rations while marching miles every day was even worse.

	And Croft knew there was no way they were covering 20 miles a 
day. They would undoubtedly run out of food before they reached Aridor. 
Once the food was gone it would be a race against time to get over to 
the Eastern continent before they starved to death.

	Well, at least they were going in the right general direction, 
east. Croft hoped that once they got close to Sarney he would recognize 
landmarks that would enable him to plot a more direct route. They had 
many opportunities to climb up tall buildings to check for landmarks, 
but none of the troopers, Croft included, had the energy to climb after 
marching for miles every day.

	The pain in Croft's right leg gradually faded but was replaced by 
another kind of wearying pain in both legs.



	"I wonder how far we've come," said Pomiter, on the seventh 
night. He was sitting near Croft in the darkness, though neither could 
see the other.

	"It's hard to say," said Croft slowly. "My guess is that we're 
doing about 15 miles a day."

	"A third of our food is gone already, even at half rations," said 
Pomiter. "Do you think we're going to make it?"

	"I think we don't have much choice," said Croft grimly.

	"I feel exhausted," said Pomiter. "I wonder if there's something 
in this mist that's killing us."

	"I think that's just fatigue," said Croft. "This mist only seems 
to have knocked out the power."

	"How do you know?" Pomiter asked.

	"I don't," said Croft. "But we just have to continue on and hope 
for the best."

	The trouble didn't really start until the eighth day out.

	They were marching on the morning of the eighth day, and they 
were so weary that they nearly didn't see it coming. The mist also 
didn't help. It was thick, not enabling them to see more than a few 
feet ahead. Croft, though, thought that the mist was starting to thin a 
bit--or was it his imagination?

	He was still considering this when suddenly a gang of scavengers 
appeared, blocking the way forward; and then, turning around, Croft saw 
their exit blocked as well.

	"Just give us your food and none of you will get hurt," said 
their leader, holding a metal pipe.

	Croft said nothing as the leader took a step towards Croft. The 
scavenger took Croft's silence for fear. "Let's have it," said the 
bandit.

	"Whatever you say," said Croft, stepping forward swiftly despite 
the pain in his legs. 

	The ruffian swung at him but Croft was already spinning to the 
side, and chopped down hard on the ruffian's neck. He dropped to the 
ground like a sack of potatoes.

	In an instant, the other scavengers fled.

	"All right, everybody, pick up a stick," said Croft, picking up 
the pipe. He swung it experimentally. It was a bit short but would do.

	"A stick?" said one of the men.

	"A club, a stick, anything long and hard," said Croft. "We're 
going back to the stone age, gang."





	After that they had several more run-in's with gangs, and each 
time they had to fight harder and harder to get through them. It was as 
if the word had spread that Croft and his team had food, and everyone, 
desperate to survive, was coming after them. They faced an increasing 
number of bruising conflicts.

	It was with a wary eye, then, on the tenth day, that Croft eyed a 
single scavenger in the street ahead of them. The lone scavenger didn't 
seem frightened, as loners often did; he just stood there, and stared 
at Croft and his men.

	"Do you think it's a trap?" Pomiter asked.

	"Quite possibly," said Croft. "Let's switch to another street."

	They crisscrossed through several short avenues before setting 
out on a parallel street a few blocks down.

	But standing there, waiting for them, was the scavenger.

	At least, it looked like the same one.

	"All right," said Croft, motioning with his hands for the platoon 
to assume a classic box position. "Be ready for anything, men."

	They gripped their weapons more tightly, as if expecting a trap. 
But as they got closer, the man said, "Hi there," in a friendly tone.

	This only made Croft more suspicious. They were on a ruined 
planet, in the middle of nowhere, and all of a sudden a friendly person 
pops up.

	Croft stopped several feet away from the person, but in the mist 
had trouble making out the man's face.

	"What do you want?" said Croft, getting to the point. He held his 
metal pipe in his right hand, looking left and right for the ambush.

	"I recognize that voice," said the man. "What are the odds of 
that?"

	And then Croft recognized not so much the other man's voice, but 
something about what he said about odds.

	The man slowly stepped forward out of the gloom, his arms at his 
side, so Croft and the others could see him.

	"Well well well," said Clifford Croft. "Yosemite Catchbill. What 
are the odds of meeting you here?"

	"I was asking myself the same thing," said Catchbill.

	Yosemite Catchbill was one of the most renown con-men and crooked 
gamblers in the Alliance. Somehow he had always managed to avoid going 
to prison, perhaps because he on occasion provided valuable 
intelligence to the Agency. He and Croft had had occasional encounters 
in the past. But that didn't mean that Croft liked him.	

	"Actually, the odds are higher than you think," said Catchbill. 

	Croft raised an eyebrow.

	"Before you were on the main thoroughfare to the east coast. I 
figured that someone important like yourself who was stranded out west 
would be heading to the coast, maybe even making for Sarney." He looked 
at Croft's face for clues to how close his guesses were, but Croft was 
impassive.

	"If you wanted to go to Sarney, why not just go?" said Croft.

	"There's the ah, security situation," said Catchbill. "The 
streets aren't very safe right now."

	"And now the real reason?" Croft asked.

	"Well, I figured a powerful delegation like yours might have a 
few scraps of food for a hungry refugee-"

	"Forget it," said Croft. He signaled Pomiter; the column started 
moving again.

	"Wait!" said Catchbill. "At least let me go with you!"

	Croft turned to Catchbill. "We're no less than 3 weeks out of 
Sarney. There's no guarantee we'll find food when we get there." He 
left the knowledge of their final destination, Aridor, a secret for 
now. "We don't have enough food for ourselves, much less you. How will 
you survive that long?"

	"I have food too!" said Catchbill, whirling around to reveal a 
backpack.	

	"Enough for three weeks?"

	"Well... I can make it last," said Catchbill. 

	Croft looked hard at Catchbill. Finally, he nodded. "All right. 
But if I catch you stealing a crumb of food, I'll shoot you."

	"With what?" said Catchbill. 

	"All right, I'll club you," Croft sighed. It was going to be one 
of those days.

	Catchbill proved to be of some limited help, pointing out 
relatively safer routes away from the local gangs. But after a days 
march he too found himself in unfamiliar territory and was just another 
mouth.

	And what a mouth he was! He was constantly trying to gamble with 
some of Pomiter's men to try to win their rations. Croft rapidly put a 
stop to that, tapping suggestively with his metal pipe as he caught 
Catchbill's eye.

	They continued marching. The mist definitely seemed to be getting 
lighter; whereas before they could only see two or three feet ahead in 
the mist, now they could see five or six feet in the distance. It 
didn't make much of a difference, but it was some improvement.

	They had several more encounters with gangs, and in one 
particularly fierce battle they actually lost one of Pomiter's men, who 
was clubbed to death during a sudden ambush. Then, two days later, they 
lost another man, and another.

	By the 27th day they were down to 25 men, including Pomiter and 
Croft, and they were extremely weary. They needed rest, but they knew 
if they even took one day off that it might make the difference between 
life and death, as their food supplies were almost depleted.

	"We have only two days of food left," said Pomiter, rubbing a 
sore arm. He had zigged to the left when he should have zagged to the 
right and caught a blow to his right arm during a recent gang skirmish.

	"Then we'll have to extend it," Croft said grimly.

	"Extend it? How?"

	"Quarter rations."

	"Quarter rations? How do you expect us to survive on quarter 
rations?" said Pomiter. His raised voice attracted the attention of the 
other soldiers, who looked tired, dirty, and bloodied. So far there 
hadn't been any desertions, though maybe this wasn't surprising given 
the fact that there was nowhere else to go for food. But once the food 
was gone, could Croft keep them together?

	Keeping them together. How ironic. Croft was the classic loner. 
He didn't like sticking to groups, they only slowed him down. But they 
had come this far together. Somehow he felt almost responsible for this 
group.

	"We'll survive because we have to," said Croft grimly. "I think 
we're getting close to Sarney," he lied. "It shouldn't be long now."

	But in fact Croft was worried that he didn't recognize anything 
at all familiar that would indicate they were near Sarney, and it was 
only when they reached the ocean two days later that they understood 
why.

	Suddenly, without warning, they came up on it. The sea. They had 
had to ration water as well, as the power to the planet's plumbing 
system had conked out, but the ocean was a saltwater body. Still, the 
sight of the ocean meant that they must be close to Sarney Sarittenden, 
right?

	Wrong. Nothing looked familiar to Croft. It was only when they 
stopped a solitary scavenger and asked for directions that they 
realized why.

	They had come too far south. Sarney Sarittenden was 30 miles to 
the north.

	30 miles. A few minutes by shuttle, or ground transport. Fresh 
troops could march that distance in a day and a half.

	Croft's troops were so exhausted and starved that they could 
barely do 10 miles a day. Even on quarter rations they only had enough 
food for two more days. Croft did the math in his head.

	"Good news, troops," he said mirthlessly. "Sarney is only a two 
or three day march north."

	"But we're going to Aridor," said one of the troops. "Why don't 
we just cross the water here?"

	"With what?" said Croft. "We have no transport."

	"We could build a raft," said Pomiter.

	"If I recall correctly the ocean is some 90 miles  or so wide at 
this point," said Croft. "It's narrowest point is at Sarney 
Sarittenden. And if we can locate the entrance to the underground 
tubeway, we won't need a raft at all."



	The next day they continued marching but were so weary that they 
didn't notice a group of scavengers ahead until they were almost on top 
of them.

	But neither did the scavengers, who were busy fanning the flames 
of a small fire. Over the fire was a long spit, and tied to the spit 
was a body. They were planning to cook and eat a person!

	For a moment Croft just blinked, as if he couldn't believe what 
he was seeing. Were they really going to eat human flesh? The 
scavengers turned and stared dully at his group. Maybe they would want 
to eat him too.

	"Hey!" said a voice, and Croft realized it was coming from the 
guy on the spit. They weren't just eating a body, they were going to 
cook a live person!

	"Hey, over there, don't be shy!" said the voice, and Croft could 
see a face now peering at them.

	"Get out of here," one of the scavengers scowled, waving a stick. 
"This isn't your business."

	Croft turned to look at Pomiter, who was already looking at him. 
Each was thinking the same thing.  Croft's men were weary, and low on 
food. Did they even have the energy to fight the scavengers? Even if 
they managed to save the man on the spit, what would they feed him 
with?

	"No," Croft heard himself mumble, not realizing he had made a 
decision. Whatever their condition, whatever the situation, he couldn't 
let an innocent civilian die.

	The scavenger saw the expression in Croft's face, and suddenly he 
realized Croft's intent, almost before Croft himself had. He and his 
companions, nearly 20 in all, closed on Croft. They all had clubs or 
sticks or sharpened weapons.

	"This isn't your fight," said the man. Croft could see that he 
was covered with some sort of mud or dirt, though whether by choice or 
indifference was hard to tell.

	"Hey, don't let him tell you what to do!" said the voice from the 
spit. "What are you, some kind of pushover?"

	Mud face didn't bother looking over at his captive, but only had 
eyes for Croft.

	"You can just walk away," he said in a low voice, slowly circling 
Croft.

	"We outnumber you," said Croft, holding his metal pipe. Mudface 
was holding a long stick, a piece of a pole, maybe. It was longer than 
Croft's pipe, but certainly not as hard.

	The man licked his dirty lips. "You're right," he said. "Let's 
talk about it."

	He lowered his weapon and took a step forward, as if to open a 
dialogue. But as he stepped forward he was raising his weapon, and 
slicing down-

	Except that Croft was no longer standing there. He pivoted hard 
to the right, ignoring the pain in his legs, and parried Mudface's 
stick. There was a sharp crack of plastic against iron, and it broke in 
two.

	Croft looked at Mudface expressionlessly.

	Mudface hissed, and pulled back. His scavengers quickly followed.



	"Oh, you were just great! Really!" said the man tied to the spit. 
"Hey, are you guys going to untie me? Don't forget, now!"

	Croft nodded, and two of Pomiter's men untied the man on the 
spit. He plopped to the ground as soon has the ropes were untied. "Hey, 
easy on the merchandise," he said, rubbing his sore wrists. He looked 
up at Croft and smiled. "Hey, lucky for you I happened to be here," he 
grinned.

	That grin. Something about him looked familiar. Several of the 
men were frowning; they had made a partial recognition too.

	The man got to his feet. "Hey, what're you standing around all 
day for? Aren't we going to get going?"

	"We?" said Croft.

	"Sure," said the man. "Where are we going?"

	"We aren't going anywhere," said Croft.  "Not with you."

	"Not with me?" said the man, looking hurt in a mocked way. "Was 
it something I said?" he grinned again.

	"We don't have enough food for ourselves, much less you," said 
Croft.

	"I've already heard this speech," Catchbill sighed.

	Croft signaled Pomiter, and the column formed up and started 
marching again.

	"Hey, hey, you can't just leave me here to starve!" sad the man. 
"Someone might come and eat me again!"

	That did it. That voice, that tone, that inflection. He turned to 
the man. The face was a bit older, but, sure enough-"Shakey."

	The man burst into a wide smile.

	"You're a fan!"

	"Shakey Walbaum?" said Pomiter.  A murmur rose up among the men.

	"Are you really going to let the world's greatest entertainer 
starve to death?" said Shakey.

	"I'm sorry," said Croft.

	"I'm sorry," said Shakey, imitating Croft's gruff tone. "It's so 
pro-forma. If you're going to leave me to die, can't you even shed a 
few tears, maybe?"

	Croft turned to abruptly face Shakey. "We don't have food to 
share. We're going to run out ourselves before we reach our 
destination." He paused. "But if we make it, there should be food where 
we're going. If it's a choice between certain starvation and coming 
with us, you come with us, there's a chance you could survive."

	"There, now that's a hospitable offer!" said Shakey. "It's a 
deal! But  if I starve to death before we get wherever we're going, 
promise me one thing."

	"What?" said Croft.

	"Only eat me when I'm cooked to well done, I don't taste right 
any other way."

	Several of the troops chuckled, despite themselves.



	Shakey Walbaum had been one of the foremost comedians for 
hundreds of years. His name had been legend not only on August but 
throughout the Alliance. However, the Insects cared nothing for human 
entertainment and Shakey had eeked out a living, if it could be called 
that, scavenging in the no-man's land on the western part of the 
continent. When August was liberated from the Insects he had started 
working his way eastward towards Sarney, to secure transportation off-
planet. But that was before the disaster struck the planet.

	Shakey had actually met Croft before, and, four days later, 
realized this fact. "I know you, don't I?" he said. "Croft. Croft. That 
name sounds familiar. No, maybe I'm thinking of someone else. Wait, I'm 
sure it's you I'm thinking of."

	"It should," said Croft. "I saved your life."

	"You did? When was this?"

	"A number of decades ago."

	"A number of decades years ago? Ha! What have you done for me 
lately?" said Shakey.

	Shakey had inadvertently come into the possession of a data disc 
with information that the Slurians wanted; and Croft had been assigned 
to protect him and find the disc. Croft remembered the incident 
clearly, but the events of the past evidently hadn't made much of an 
impression on Shakey. He was too concerned with his stardom.

	"Do you like to gamble?" Catchbill asked Shakey.

	"He has no food, Catchbill," said Croft.

	"Oh. Never mind," said Catchbill.



	They lay on the ground, in the sunlight, trying to get the energy 
to move further. Croft recognized where they were now, not more than 20 
miles south of Sarney. One more good march would get them there.

	The problem was, they were out of food, and exhausted. They 
should have started marching two hours ago when sunlight appeared, but 
they were still lying there. They would be lucky to cover 7 or 8 miles 
today.

	And once they got to Sarney, they'd have to get down into the 
underground tube to get to Aridor. That would be another 50 mile hike, 
another week.

	How could they survive another nine or ten days without food?

	The answer: they probably couldn't.

	But Croft refused to give in. At least water wasn't as serious a 
problem; while they had to ration it, they had collected rainwater as 
they went along. Maybe they could make it, if they had enough water.

	"What would you say our odds of making it are?" said Catchbill, 
as if he were reading Croft's mind.

	"I have nothing left to bet with," said Croft mirthlessly. "We're 
all out of food." Catchbill had also run out of food two days ago, just 
as they found Shakey, who was also starved. 

	"Clifford Croft, the great Clifford Croft, what happened to you?" 
said Catchbill. "You're the great spy, the great hero who can survive 
in any environment. Then what happens? We get a little invasion for a 
decade or two, we go on a small hike for a few weeks, and you let 
yourself collapse like a sack of type 18 potatoes!"

	"All right," said Croft, slowly and painfully getting up. He 
could no longer ignore the pain in his legs but he could deal with it. 
"Pomiter-" he started to say, stopping when he heard a sound down the 
street.

	And then another, and another.

	Another gang was approaching.

	Pomiter's men quickly got on their feet, and painfully assumed a 
defensive formation.

	This gang outnumbered Croft's men by about 2 to 1. And they 
appeared to be in a much better condition than his troops were.

	The leader was a tall man with sparkling eyes who carried what 
looked like a long blade. He instinctively picked out Croft for a 
leader, and stopped a few feet away from him.

	"The name's Tony," he smiled. "Wild Tony."

	"That's nice," said Croft, struggling not to appear tired. The 
metal bar in his hand was growing heavier by the minute.

	"Got any food?" Wild Tony asked.

	"No," said Croft. "As I was just saying, you're two days too 
late."

	"Really?" said Tony. "You don't mind if we look for ourselves, do 
you?"

	The last thing Croft wanted was Tony's men walking in close 
proximity to his. They could launch a lightning attack and club them 
all.

	"No way," said Croft.

	"That's a shame," Wild Tony said. He looked away for a moment, 
the classic feint for someone who was about to attack. Croft didn't 
wait, but swung with his bar. But Tony was too quick, swinging with his 
sword. The force of the blow was so hard that the bar clanged out of 
Croft's hands to the ground. Wild Tony's grin grew wider as he eyed the 
disarmed and helpless Croft.

	He whistled and his men attacked. Croft couldn't focus on what 
was going on around him as he directed his undivided attention to Wild 
Tony's sword. If he wasn't careful, he was going to get cut in half. 

	Wild Tony swung and Croft ducked to the side; he swung again, and 
Croft ducked again. But Croft was tiring, and Wild Tony knew that.

	So when Wild Tony swung a third time, he wasn't surprised to see 
Croft slip and fall to the ground.

	Only it was no accident; Croft kicked out with his feet, and Wild 
Tony went down in a heap. In an instant Croft was on top of him, 
punching Wild Tony in the face to stun him, grabbing the sword, and 
holding it to his throat.

	"STOP!" Croft yelled at the top of his voice.

	There was a delay, and then Wild Tony's men stopped in their 
tracks as they saw what had happened.

	"If any one of you lifts a weapon, Wild Tony won't be so wild," 
said Croft. "Now get back, get back!"

	Wild Tony's men mumbled, but did nothing.	

	"You tell them," Croft whispered fiercely.

	"I ain't telling them nothing," said Wild Tony. 

	Croft pressed the blade against Wild Tony's neck so hard that he 
broke the skin and a thin line of blood started to seep down his neck. 

	"All right, all right!" said Wild Tony. "Get back, get back, you 
heard him!"

	Wild Tony's troops reluctantly disengaged.

	"Now tell them to march," said Croft. Another prod with the sword 
persuaded Wild Tony to relay the order.

	Wild Tony's men marched to the corner and around it. Presumably, 
that's where they would wait to stage their counterattack. Well, at 
least it would give Croft and his troops something of a head start.

	Croft glared at Wild Tony, as if considering his fate, and then 
released him.

	"You're dead men," Wild Tony spat. 

	"What odds would you place on that?" said Catchbill.

	"Come on," said Croft. They started marching in the opposite 
direction. Wild Tony took off in the direction of his men at a run.

	It wasn't long before Wild Tony's men were pursuing them again. 
Croft wondered if he had been wise to let Tony go. But the sword was 
heavy and he was tired of holding it up. He could barely walk, much 
less escort a captive.

	As they played cat and mouse with Tony's men, Croft came up with 
a sudden conclusion. "We'll have to go underground."

	"Underground?" said Pomiter. "But it's totally dark down there. 
We'll get lost."

	"Hopefully so will Wild Tony's men," said Croft. They entered a 
building and took the stairs down. 

	It was dark. Really dark. Even in the days of the Insect 
Invasion, there had been emergency lighting on many of the wall panels, 
dim as it had been. Now there was nothing. It was pitch black. 

	Croft was first, and he felt his way forward by touch. Grabbing 
his hand from behind was Pomiter, and grabbing his hand was one of his 
men, and so on. It was the only way to avoid getting separated.

	Croft walked down only two levels before feeling his way to an 
empty room. The darkness was eerie--anything could jump out at them 
without warning. Every time his foot kicked a piece of debris, creating 
a clatter, his adrenaline jumped.

	They reached a room by touch which seemed empty. The entire 
platoon, including Shakey and Catchbill, filed in.

	They sat in silence for several minutes.

	"What is this, are we here to see a holofilm?" came Shakey's 
voice.

	"Quiet," Croft hissed.

	It was impossible to tell how long they sat that way. But after a 
time they heard sounds, many sounds, the sounds of movement.

	The sounds were getting louder, and coming in their direction.

	Everyone tensed up. 

	And then, they caught the tiniest reflection of light, coming 
from the hallway. The reflection grew brighter, and Croft could tell 
that it was the light from a flame.

	Croft could tell the troops were restless. "Be absolutely quiet!" 
he hissed.

	The sounds of movement grew louder, and louder, and the light 
from the flame grew brighter, as it partially illuminated the hallway 
outside. 

	"We'll get them... they're down here somewhere...." They heard. 
Everyone tensed for battle.

	The sounds of movement grew still louder, as if they were in the 
room... and then the sounds started to recede. Father and father, until 
they were just a distant sound.

	They had been close, but hadn't even passed by the room that 
Croft and his men had been hiding in.

	Croft snapped his fingers twice, and they started on their trip 
back to the surface.

	It was late afternoon when they emerged, but Croft kept them 
marching until after nightfall. Now besides starvation they had another 
obstacle to overcome--Wild Tony's scavengers.

	The mist was still fainter the following morning, it was 
definitely starting to clear, at least a bit. Oh, the mist was still 
clearly visible, but now one could see several dozen feet in the 
distance. And the light from the sun was still dull, but clearer than 
it had been for weeks.

	They kept up the march, only stopping for a break when they heard 
sounds of movement around them. Croft's legs were in agony, but he 
forced himself forward. If he couldn't keep up, he would die. He had 
long since gotten past the stage of being hungry, but was merely weak 
and feeble. The men were hardly in a better shape. Catchbill looked 
listless, and Shakey, already thin, looked almost skeletal.

	Still they kept pushing themselves, and before the end of the 
next day they found themselves on the outskirts of Sarney. 

	"There it is," Croft whispered hoarsely.

	"Sir, we need to stop," Pomiter rasped. "Several of the men can't 
take another step."

	Croft nodded dumbly. They settled down for the night.

	Pomiter sat next to Croft, some distance from the men, and said, 
"How much farther?"

	"Another mile or two to the underwater transit tube," said Croft. 
"Then another 54 miles underground to Sarney."

	"That's another week," said Pomiter. "Some of the men won't make 
it another day or two without food." He left another thought unspoken, 
that none of them could march for another week without food.

	"I know," said Croft, too tired to say more.

	"Did you ever think it would end like this?" said Pomiter.

	"No, no I didn't," said Croft. "I thought I might die in battle 
against the Insects, on the ground, in the air, in space. But not to 
die of starvation, not like this."

	"The bugs got their revenge," said Pomiter. "I can only hope the 
War Admiral's fleet survived to get ours."

	The War Admiral. Norman North. Throughout all this Croft hadn't 
given any thought to the fleet in space. Had they been immobilized by 
the energy dampeners too? Was the fleet all dead of starvation, or, 
more likely, due to lack of oxygen? There was no way to know.

	All of Croft's friends might already be dead. It wasn't an 
especially cheery thought.



	The next day they stumbled towards central Sarney, close to the 
palace. They were almost on top of a nearby underground entrance that 
would take them to the transit tube station when disaster struck.

	Croft was guiding his weary team into a building to go 
underground when a large number of people emerged from the building. 
Scavengers.

	More scavengers appeared behind them. To their left. To their 
right. There must have been more than 80 of them in all.

	They had walked right into a trap. If Croft had had his wits 
about him, he would've spotted the trap; as it was, he could barely put 
one foot in front of the other. 

	None other than Wild Tony himself emerged from the building, 
grinning widely. He held a familiar sword in his hand.

	"Did you drop something?" Tony grinned.

	Croft had dropped Tony's sword early on when it was obvious that 
he could no longer walk with such a heavy thing. His metal pipe had 
also been discarded in his effort to stay as light as possible.

	"Do you like my men?" said Tony. "You didn't realize that you 
only met up with a small part of my gang, did you?" He walked casually 
towards Croft, grinning widely as he hefted his sword. Tony's men 
started to call out jeeringly.

	For once, Croft's starved brain couldn't come up with a response. 
He just stood there, watching Tony dumbly.

	"What's wrong? You look tired," said Tony, walking to within a 
few feet of Croft. He swung his blade experimentally in the air. Croft 
didn't move. "Haven't eaten in a while?"

	The catcalls grew wilder.

	"Well, you're not much for conversation, are you?" said Wild 
Tony. He raised his blade. "I'll make this quick-" and then, he noticed 
the uncanny smile on Croft's face.

	"What?" he wondered, delaying the blow because of curiosity. 

	Croft spoke for the first time, his voice no more than a hoarse 
whisper. "You're surrounded," he rasped. "Give yourself up."

	Wild Tony laughed, and his men laughed too, a big, hearty laugh. 
And then Wild Tony raised his blade again, there was a scream, and-

	Several platoons of soldiers slammed into Wild Tony's men from 
the rear. The men, wielding unfamiliar poles and sticks, nonetheless 
did very well, driving into the mass of surprised and now fearful 
scavengers.

	Wild Tony stared at the attackers for a moment, as if he was 
totally in a daze. When he turned back Croft was gone, heading for the 
nearest wave of attackers. Tony yelled, "Retreat!" at the top of his 
lungs, and the scavengers pulled back. 

	"This isn't over!" screamed Wild Tony, as he ran back into the 
building he had emerged from.

	When the last of the scavengers had beat a hasty retreat, Croft 
could barely believe his eyes when several platoons formed up around 
him and Pomiter's men.

	"Are you all right?" one of them said, as Croft allowed himself 
the luxury of falling to the ground and collapsing into 
unconsciousness.



	Consciousness returned slowly to Croft.

	"The Sarney Sarittenden garrison," he said slowly, his eyes 
closed.

	"Yes," said a voice.

	Croft opened his eyes, and found himself in a room lit by 
torches. 

	"I'm quite surprised to find you and your people still alive," 
said an officer standing by the cot that Croft was lying on. He 
extended a hand. Croft used it to painfully get himself up.

	Croft looked at the officer with tired eyes.

	"But not so surprised when I learned who was leading them. It's 
an honor to meet you, sir," said the officer, and he actually saluted.

	"You are...?"

	"Oh.  Captain Trigger, in charge of the transition-"

	"Transition?"

	"You're very lucky; if you had come two weeks later, we'd be 
gone."

	"Gone?" 

	"We're being redeployed to the south as soon as our rooftop crops 
come in."

	"Rooftop crops?" Croft felt his mouth water.

	"About 10 days ago conditions improved enough for us to plant 
some 30 day potatoes. We think the mist has cleared enough to permit 
plants to grow again. We're just waiting to harvest them before we move 
south."

	"Food!" said Croft.

	Trigger held out a small plate with a piece of bread. "We're all 
on half-rations until the crops come in, but we can spare-"

	Croft didn't wait, taking the bread into his mouth, and chomping 
quickly. "Water," he rasped.

	Trigger held up a waiting cup.

	In a moment Croft felt at least part of his old self returning.

	"My men?"

	"All alive, though all are suffering from exhaustion and 
borderline starvation," said Trigger. "That's what I have to talk to 
you about."

	Croft looked up at him.

	"We have barely enough on half rations to survive two weeks until 
our crops come in. We don't have enough to feed more than two dozen 
additional men at that rate."

	The implications immediately sunk in. "What can you do for us?" 
said Croft slowly.

	"We can give you all the water you can handle. And if we tighten 
our belts further, we can give you each two days worth of half-
rations," said Trigger. "Lieutenant Pomiter says you're going to 
Aridor.  It's possible, with two days of half-rations, that you might 
make it-"

	"If it's the best you can do I'm thankful," said Croft sincerely. 
"We don't expect you to starve yourselves to feed us."

	"I'm glad you understand," said Trigger, looking immensely 
guilty. "At the very least we'll escort you to the tube station."

	"Is it still intact?"

	"It is at this end," said Trigger. "But with the power out it 
will be very cold down there. We'll provide you with warn clothing and 
torches to help you on your way."

	

	They were escorted to the underground tube station. It was 
looted, like most of August, but the dark tunnel ahead hadn't been 
filled with water, which was a good sign.

	"Eh, together again," said Shakey, looking ridiculous wearing a 
dirty blanket around him. "Guess they can't break up a winning team." 

	He called after the departing soldiers who had escorted him. 
"Hey, thanks for the single piece of bread! Is there any crusts that 
come with that?"

	"Quiet," said Croft. "They're starving too."

	"They look in better shape than we are," said Shakey. He looked 
at the blanket wrapping him. "Or maybe they're just snappier dressers."

	"Ok, we're starting on the last leg of the journey," said Croft. 
"I don't know what conditions are like in Aridor, but once we get 
there, some of the vegetation should be edible."

	"How long can we survive on weeds, sir?" one of the troopers 
asked.

"Captain Trigger also generously provided us with some precious seeds 
for farming. We'll plant thirty day potatoes in the ground the day 
after we get there," said Croft. He heard some grumbling. "Our survival 
won't be pretty, but we will survive. Lieutenant!"

	"Form up!" said Pomiter hoarsely. "Column.... Forward!"

	25 soldiers marched into the tunnel, including Croft, Shakey, and 
Yosemite Catchbill.

	Croft estimated that even at their feeble pace that they would 
get out of the tube within five or six days. He had intended to feed 
the troops their first half ration the first day and save the second 
one for the third or fourth day. But his resolve broke down and they 
consumed all that was left on the second day.

	If indeed it was a day. With no sunlight, they had no idea how 
much time had passed; they could only guess how long they had marched 
and how far.

	"Surely we've been down here for a week already," moaned 
Catchbill.

	"Maybe three days, no longer," said Croft, as he marched quietly 
in the underground tube, holding one of the few remaining torches. To 
conserve the torches they traveled with only one lit at a time; now 
only two were left.

	"This is not my idea of an ocean voyage!" said Shakey, rattling 
his teeth.

	For it was cold. They were traveling in a tube on the ocean 
floor, one that heated track cars usually traversed in ten minutes. The 
route wasn't meant to be walked. 

	And then, on the fourth day (or was it the fifth?) the last torch 
went out, and it went dark. It was pitch black in the tunnel.

	"Well, at least we know we're going the right way," said Shakey. 
"Say, how do we know that we didn't get turned around at some point, 
and that we're not heading back now instead of forward?"

	Pomiter wondered the same thing but was no longer joking about 
it. That "night" during a rest he said to Croft, "We've rested twice 
since we lost the last torch. We should've been out by now. Is there 
any chance we accidentally got turned around and are heading back the 
way we came?"

	He couldn't see the expression on Croft's face, but Croft said, 
"No."

	"Are you sure?" he whispered.

	Croft said slowly, "I didn't survive an Insect invasion for 20 
years to die due to getting lost in an underwater tunnel."

	"But we should've been out by now. And the men can't continue 
much longer."

	It was true. The men were exhausted and starving again, as bad as 
they had been when they arrived at Sarney.

	"We'll make it," Croft rasped.

	But the next "day" when he roused the men, no one got up. "What 
is this?" he said.

	"We're too tired, sir," said one. "We can't go on."

	"So you're just going to lie here, and die?" said Croft. 

	There was no answer in the darkness.

	"Is there anyone who's still got the energy to live?" said Croft.

	There was silence for a moment.

	"Fine," said Croft. "I'll continue on myself. You all stay here, 
and give up."

	He started down the tunnel, then stopped, waiting as he heard 
sounds of movement. Some, at least, were still with him.	

	But hours later he could barely walk and the sounds behind him 
had grown distant. First it sounded like a bunch of soldiers were 
following, then a handful, then one or two, and then the last one had 
dropped off some time ago. They had simply lost the energy to go on.

	But not Croft. He was on his knees now, but he kept going, 
crawling and crawling. His anger was flowing; there was no way he was 
going to die in an underground tunnel simply because he didn't have 
anything to eat.

	His mind stopped registering as he continued to crawl. He didn't 
notice that the tunnel was gently sloping uphill, had been for 
sometime. And then, an undeterminable time later, he felt himself bump 
into something in front of him. He painfully raised an arm. 

	A ladder

	Croft somehow painfully crawled up ladder. When he got to the 
top, he made a supreme effort and pushed himself out of a service hole 
and lay under sunlight for the first time in a week.

	He lay in the sun, unable to move. He turned his head to look at 
the lodge. Levi! If Levi was there, he could bring him food.

	As Croft turned his head his eyes unfocused, and it took a real 
effort to focus them again. His vision wasn't great anymore and the 
mist was still obscuring things. He squinted hard but couldn't see the 
lodge. And then, in a moment of clarity, he saw it, or what remained of 
it.

	Burned to the ground.

	He was all alone here. There was no one who could help him. 

	Croft tried to drag himself to a field of foliage in the 
distance, to anything, anything he could possibly consume, but his 
strength finally gave out, and he collapsed, on a barren dirt road.





Chapter 2: In the Land of Levi



	"Arf! Arf Arf Arf!"

	It was a tinny sound, the kind of sound made by small dogs who 
are consumed with self-importance. Croft thought toy dogs were 
ridiculous, and the sound he heard reminded him of a pompous little 
animal.

	And then something wet touched his nose, and his cheeks, and his 
mouth. It felt like a tongue!

	Could a wild animal be attacking him?

	Croft tried to will himself to open his eyes, but he didn't even 
have the strength for that.

	Then he felt a hand on his wrist, feeling for a pulse. Then he 
felt something at his mouth, a container. Croft opened his mouth and 
swallowed. It was water. He choked as some of it went down the wrong 
way, but the choking action helped him open his eyes.

	He found the very concerned face of Levi Esherkol staring at him. 
Croft tried to speak, but no words came out.

	Levi nodded even though Croft didn't say anything. He put 
something in Croft's mouth that felt like a cracker. Croft chewed, 
swallowed, and then Levi gave him another cracker.

	And then Levi lay Croft's head back on the ground, and Croft fell 
asleep again.

	When Croft woke again he still was on the dirt road outside of 
the underground tube. But around him were bodies he quickly recognized. 
His men.

	"Arf arf!" came a voice.

	Croft turned his head to find a small fox-like dog with large 
whiskers not two inches from his nose.

	"Arf-arf!" said the animal again.

	"Awake, eh?" came a voice.

	Croft sat up, to see the very familiar face of Levi Esherkol. 
Levi was the resident genius on August. He could study a field of 
science and quickly become an expert in it, whether it was robotics, 
computers, genetics, physics, engineering, or anything else. But, 
ironically, all Levi really liked to do was cook. Levi had been 
instrumental in overthrowing the Insects, operating as an undercover 
agent on the Queen's flagship. He had worked his way in to become the 
Queen's personal cook, while playing a dangerous double game of passing 
on information to the resistance. But after the war Levi had 
disappeared. As Croft had correctly guessed, Levi had returned to his 
roots at the lodge, where he used to cook in what he boosted was 
Aridor's best restaurant. It was also its only one.

	"I... you....," said Croft, looking over at the burned remains of 
the lodge.

	"Here, have drink," said Levi, passing him a canteen. As Croft 
drank, Levi said, "Hunger big problem, but exhaustion bigger."

	"My... men."

	"21 others alive. Found three dead in tunnel, mostly exhaustion. 
Led rest here," said Levi.

	Croft numbly pointed to the burned spot where the lodge stood.

	"I blew up," said Levi proudly. 

	Croft looked surprised.

	"Think I learned nothing from Agency?" said Levi. "Knew bugs want 
to take revenge, didn't want them to destroy. So I blow up lodge, 
making them think other bugs did it first."

	"You blew up the lodge so they wouldn't blow up the lodge?" said 
Croft, finding his voice again.

	"Yes. Preserved basement lab," said Levi. "Very clever, no?"

	Croft nodded. He struggled to get to his feet, with Levi's help.

	"Arf arf!" said the little animal.

	"Yes, I know," said Levi.

	"Oh no," said Croft, staring at the small smiling dog. "Not you."

	"Yes, you remember him, eh?" said Levi. "Type 212(b) Pomeranian."

	"Type 212?" said Croft, still feeling light headed.

	Levi's dog was a mutated version of a Pomeranian, type 212(b). 
Levi had genetically engineered him to be smarter than all dogs, even 
smarter than many people.

	"Yes, the genius dog," said Croft saracastically.

	"Genuis dog, yes," said Levi. He whistled, getting the animal's 
attention. "Quick, what is number at eighth decimal place for pi?"

	The dog paused for a split second, then spoke. "Arf, arf, arf 
arf!"

	"Four, very good!" said Levi. "Quick, go home now, tell Mindy 
prepare dinner."

	The dog scampered off.

	Quick. That's right, the dog was named Quick  "I still can't 
believe you named your dog after Steven Quick."

	"Steven Quick smartest person; my Quick smartest dog," said Levi 
smugly.

	"Ah ha," said Croft.

	He saw Lieutenant Pomiter groan and start to get to his feet. So 
did some of the others. Shakey and Catchbill ambled over.

	"You seem surprised to see us," said Shakey. "What's the matter, 
don't you think comedians are as tough as soldiers?"

	"It was a good gamble," said Catchbill. "And it seems to have 
been paid off."

	"Follow, follow," said Levi, waving a hand. 

	They ambled over to the lodge. Levi's wife Mindy was there in a 
clearing just outside the lodge, cooking food over a fire. Croft saw 
vegetables and a small amount of meat. Real meat! Where had that come 
from?

	"Sit down, sit down," Mindy said, indicating rocks around the 
campfire. "Levi, did they wash their hands?"

	"Exhausted, can barely move," said Levi.

	"All right," said Mindy, casting a dark glance at them all. "But 
in the future I  expect you properly groomed for dinner."

	She gave them servings on real plates (how? where had they come 
from?). Croft noticed the portions were small, but it was the biggest 
meal he had had in a month. He ate slowly due to his weakened 
condition, as did the others.

	The others ate silently, grateful to be alive, enjoying not only 
the food but the roaring of the campfire. They had been pushed to the 
point of almost terminal exhaustion; starved, almost frozen in the 
underwater tube, and chased by hostile gangs. And now... they were 
safe. It almost felt unreal, and Croft half expected something to jump 
out of the forest to attack them.

	The forest. The entire continent was untouched, unspoiled. It was 
the compromise that had been reached when Concord, the western 
continent, had been covered with buildings. Aridor, the eastern 
continent, was not to be touched, except for a hotel on the western 
tip, and of course the lodge. What had happened to the hotel? Croft 
asked Levi.

	Levi gave a dismissive wave his hands. "Bugs level, years ago." 
He motioned Croft away from the fire. "Must talk situation."

	Croft nodded, and they took a slow walk at a pace that Croft 
could keep up with.

	"What are we up against, Levi?"

	"Bugs use energy dampening weapon," said Levi.

	"The mist."

	Levi nodded. 

	"But it's clearing up," said Croft.

	Levi shook his head. "Visual part, yes. But harmful part, that 
dampen energy, not effected."

	"How can you tell?"

	"Can test. Can generate tiny amount of energy-"

	"You can???"

	"Yes. With great effort. Generate power, but quickly disappear. 
Happens in microseconds. No change. And not enough time to power 
devices."

	"So how long will this power drain last?" Croft asked.

	Levi shrugged. "May never end."

	"That means we'll be stranded here, permanently," said Croft.

	"Are worse places to be," said Levi.

	Croft knew what he meant. An image of the starving masses on 
Concord flashed through his mind.

	"Can we be rescued?" Croft asked.

	Levi shook his head. "Not see how. Any ship comes here, loses 
power, crash land maybe. Certainly no takeoff."

	"Hmmm....."

	"More immediate issue, food and shelter."

	"Food and shelter?"

	"Planted small crop for me and Mindy. Not enough for you. Can 
plant more, but will take 30 days to come in."

	"How much food do you have, Levi?"

	Levi whistled. 

	"Arf arf!" said a voice suddenly at his side.

	"Quick! Mathematical problem. Consider food stores, half rations, 
25 people," said Levi. "Question: how long can last?"

	Quick paused, and then said, "Arf arf aaaarf!"

	"20 days, eh?" said Levi.

	"What?" said Croft. "You actually understand what the dog is 
saying?"

	"Stretch out arf in context of math problem is ten multiplier," 
said Levi.

	"What is this, some kind of four legged calculator?"

	"Best calculator on planet," Levi chuckled. "Also only one, now 
that power gone."

	"20 days of rations," said Croft. "That's trouble, if we have to 
last 30 days."

	"Not so bad," said Levi. "Can supplement, hunt for meat, eat wild 
roots, bark, leaves."

	"Yum," said Croft unenthusiastically.



	Night was falling as they returned to the campfire. The pinkish 
sunset was casting beautiful colors on Mount Montalk, and adding a 
sparkle to the nearby Lake Kinneret. Shadows were cast on the rock 
walls of the nearby quarry. The troopers were still tired but appeared 
to be in a better mood, though a few started shivering as the 
temperature dropped rapidly.

	"It's getting cold," Pomiter said.

	"That brings me to the subject of sleeping arrangements," said 
Croft. "I've been having a talk with Levi here, and he tells me we're 
going to have to sleep outside, on the ground."

	"The ground?" said Catchbill. "Where do they sleep?" he asked, 
indicating Levi and Mindy.

	"In Levi's lab under the remains of the lodge," said Croft.

	"Why can't we sleep there too?"

	"Come look," Levi waved, as he waddled towards the lodge.

	He walked around the twisted and black smokey remains until he 
reached the back side, part of which was still standing. He opened a 
door, showing a stairwell leading down. Croft and several of the others 
followed.

	They found themselves in a very compact lab. Almost every inch of 
floor space was taken up by tables in equipment. Only in one small 
corner was a small single bed which Levi and Mindy somehow squeezed 
into.

	"I guess it's the outside for us," Croft sighed.

	"Sleep in quarry," said Levi. "Use wall to protect from some 
winds."

	Croft and the others took his advice, laying down against one of 
the walls of the quarry. It was a poor layer of protection, because it 
only protected them from winds coming out of the east, but it was 
better than nothing. The ground was filled with uncomfortable gravel 
that dug into his back, but as Croft hit the ground he could barely 
keep his eyes open....

	Croft woke to glorious sunlight streaming into his eyes. He heard 
the cawing of birds all around him. He opened his eyes. The area was 
still misty, but that couldn't disguise the fact that it was a 
beautiful morning.

	He shivered. It had been a cool night, and the pebbles he had 
laid on had created indentations in his back.

	Croft and his men rested the entire day; the planting would be 
delayed, but they were all seriously exhausted. They ate small portions 
presented by Mindy (twice in one day!), and went to sleep again. This 
time Croft wasn't so tired that he didn't feel the pebbles underneath 
him and the cool wind whipping against his face.

	The following day they could delay no longer and Croft set the 
groaning crew to work under Levi's guidance. Fifteen of them went to 
work on the farm, under Levi's guidance, while a few of them went to 
hunt for roots and berries, and the remainder stayed with Mindy to try 
to build some shelter for them.

	Croft went off on the roots and berries trip. Unfortunately, they 
didn't know which roots and berries were safe; and since Levi had to 
show the others how to farm, and Mindy had to show the other group  how 
to build shelter, it was left to Quick to guide them.

	"Take them, Quick, to show them edible berries, leaves, plants," 
said Levi. And the little dog said "Arf!" as if he understood every 
word.

	"A dog is going to show us what to gather?" said one of the 
troops skeptically.

	"Genius dog, very trustworthy and reliable," said Levi. He turned 
to the smiling Quick and said, "Can go now! And don't waste time 
hunting for rabbits, be home by dinner!"

	"Arf!" said the dog.



	"This is unreal," said Shakey, as he and Croft and two other 
soldiers followed the little dog. "We're being lead around by a mutant 
wind-up poodle."

	"Arf!" said Quick, glaring back at them as if to say that he 
wasn't a poodle.

	"He's a Pomeranian, I think you may have hurt his feelings," said 
Croft, only half tongue-in-cheek.

	"Is this dog supposed to understand everything we say?" said 
Shakey. "If we have a discussion of the best kind of hyperbooster, can 
he contribute to the discussion?"

	"It's my understanding that he can't speak, but he and Levi have 
found a way to communicate in dog talk," said Croft. "And yes, I think 
he understands what we say."

	"Ruff!" said Quick.  At first Croft thought the Pomeranian was 
responding to him, but the Type 212(b) was standing by a tree, looking 
at it.

	Croft appraised it. "Either he had to go to the bathroom, or 
we've found some food," he said, eyeing the peeling bark. He pulled 
some off. It looked black and nasty.

	"Is this what you're referring to?" said Croft, holding it up.

	"Ruff!"

	"What did he say?" Shakey asked.

	"Well, since I left my Pomeranian-to-English dictionary back on 
Concord, I can only guess he's telling us to gather the bark," said 
Croft. He smelled it. The odor was hideous too.

	Thankfully, Quick also had them gather some plants, berries and 
some sweet smelling leaves. The dog seemed to really know his stuff.

	Finally, when they had gathered as much as they could carry, 
Croft said, "Ok, boy, I think we've gotten enough."

	"Ruff!" said Quick, turning around and heading for home.

	"What an obedient genius dog," Croft remarked.

	"He's so brilliant, he should be walking people on a leash," 
Shakey commented.



	They got back just in time to see Mindy scolding Lieutenant 
Pomiter. "No, no," she said. "You must sew leaves THIS way," she said, 
demonstrating with a  needle and thread.

	"What difference does it make?" Pomiter snapped.

	"Difference?" said Mindy. She held up Pomiter's work, crude 
stitches that held a group of thick, cottony leaves together. Croft had 
never seen leaves so thick before. Then she held up her own example, 
which were obvious much neater stitchwork.

	"But it's functional, neatness doesn't matter," said Pomiter.

	"You not good with hands, you work with Levi on farm." Mindy 
harrumphed and turned back to her sewing.

	Levi had made better progress with the soldiers helping him farm. 
He had an easy going manner which the troopers liked. 

	"No, no, must hoe like this," he would say, but with a twinkle in 
his eye.



	Slowly things improved. They cleared away the gravel over the 
part of the quarry where they slept. The ground was hard but at least 
it didn't dig into them like the rocks and pebbles did. Over the ground 
they put the stuffed leaves. They weren't nearly as soft as a real 
mattress, but they did make the sleeping experience a bit easier. Now 
all they had to do was to cope with the elements.

	They noticed that it started getting colder. Pomiter said as 
much.

	"What did you expect?" said Croft. "With the power out, the 
weather modification net is offline. And it is the winter cycle."

	The winter cycle. For centuries August had avoided the extremes 
of hot and cold with the weather modification towers. Even under the 
Insects the weather modification system had functioned automatically; 
at the end, the resistance had even used the weather against the bugs, 
making it artificially cold and freezing millions of them. 

	But when power was lost, so was the weather control system. 
Winter would once again have its bite. 

	Mindy had monopolized the most skilled troopers to try to weave 
together "leaf blankets" out of the cottony leaves, but the going was 
slow and the leaves didn't provide much warmth. The night winds were 
getting stronger and cooler, and even sleeping against one wall of the 
quarry left them exposed from three other sides. So they started 
constructing a wall, made of stone piled together.

	But work on the wall was slow, as many of the soldiers were 
needed to farm or perform other chores.  Only one of the three walls 
needed to encircle the sleeping area was built before another disaster 
struck--rain.

	No one was able to sleep that night under the downpour, except 
for Levi and Mindy who slept in the crowded basement lab. More than 
once Croft was asked whether others could fit into the basement, but he 
told the troopers that it was filled with scientific equipment.	

	"What use is that with the power out?" said one soldier, Corporal 
Watson. "Why don't we clear their stuff out and sleep there?"

	"For one thing, I'm in charge here," said Croft, wiping the water 
from his face in the downpour and trying to prevent his teeth from 
clattering together. The ominous boom of thunder above them was not 
encouraging. "For another, if we ever do get power restored we're going 
to need that equipment."

	He looked at the shivering soldiers, and he started shivering 
himself. He tried to wrap the leaf blanket tighter around him, but 
heard a sound as it ripped.

	It continued raining into the next day, and everyone was 
waterlogged and caught colds. 

	So work stopped on creating leaf blankets and the rock wall, and 
Levi let everyone else go from farming except for two soldiers who 
showed the most promise. Very few people were needed to farm anyway, as 
the potatoes had already been planted; the only big job would be 
harvesting them, in about two weeks. 

	So during those two weeks all available manpower was put to 
building a roof, and quickly. With only two walls up--the natural wall 
of the side of the quarry, and the single rock wall perpendicular to 
it--and no natural roofing materials handy, it was not a job 
accomplished overnight.

	At Levi's urging they gathered branches and lashed them together 
with vines. They were hardly waterproof, allowing water to drip through 
almost every nook and cranny, but at least they protected those 
underneath from the direct effects of the downpour. In practice, it 
meant that they would get wet more slowly, or less so during light 
rains.

	The next night it was still raining, but the "roof" was only 
large enough to cover four people. Croft held a lottery to choose the 
first four, who ended up spending the night only getting somewhat wet. 
The following day they enlarged the roof to cover a space large enough 
to cover eight soldiers lying side by side, but couldn't do any more 
without building the other walls for support.

	The rain let up the following night but the cold winds didn't, 
and Croft and Pomiter arranged a rotation schedule for those lucky 
enough to sleep under partial shelter.

	"Oh boy, a roof," said Shakey. He pulled his leaf coverings over 
him. "I'm sleeping in the best accommodations in Aridor."

	"Would you rather be starving back on Concord?" Croft asked, 
trying to prevent himself from shivering in the night cold. The leaf 
blanket didn't really help much, the wind seemed to cut right through 
it. Maybe it if were layered?

	"Actually, the dog sleeps better than we do, down in the lab," 
said Shakey. "How come the dog doesn't do a rotation here?"

	"I don't think any of us could fit into the space the dog sleeps 
in," said Croft.

	"I don't know, I could curl up and give it a try," said Shakey. 
"Do you think if I licked Levi on the face he'd let me sleep with him?"

	

	The next morning they lined up for breakfast. Although food was 
still tightly rationed, at least they were eating something three times 
a day again. Unfortunately, the "something" they ate often left much to 
be desired. Levi's reserves weren't enough for all of them, so they had 
to supplement it with what they found in the forest.

	"Yum yum, lukewarm bark soup with weeds," said Shakey, as  he 
took a bowl.

	"Is good for you," said Mindy, glaring at him at she stirred a 
large pot over a campfire. "Not weeds, but Kibiscus plant. Good 
vitamins, also from bark."

	Shakey bit into a piece of pulpy bark floating in his soup. It 
tasted like mud. "And to think I was wasting my time all these years 
getting my vitamin C from oranges."

	"At least we're not starving," said Pomiter.

	"What about some meat?" said Catchbill.

	"Levi hasn't had time to go hunting," said Croft. Levi and some 
of the other soldiers had been working to clear more land to plant more 
crops. A few days after planting the 30 day potatoes they had planted 
some rice, which would be good for a change.



	Their living conditions continued to slowly improve. A month 
later, the last part of the sleeping area was enclosed, with walls made 
of rocks on three sides, and a roof made of leaves and branches on top. 
As the weather got colder it didn't keep them warm, but it did give 
them protection from the winds, and some protection from the rain.  
Levi showed them how to build a fireplace in one corner of the room 
they had built, and a week later they had a crackling fire going every 
night. A few people lying by the fire acually were warm all through the 
night. 

	The food improved too. After the potatoes and then the rice came 
in, they all started eating "normal" food on a regular basis, and the 
threat of starvation, already distant, receded. 

	Levi took some of the regular soldiers hunting for meat.

	"How do you hunt without weapons?" one of the soldiers asked.

	"Have weapon," said Levi proudly, raising what was obviously a 
homemade bow and arrow.

	"You expect us to hit something with that?" said a soldier.

	Levi knotched an arrow, pulled back the string, aimed carefully, 
and... thunk! An arrow imbedded itself in a tree two dozen feet away.

	"I teach, you learn," he said simply. 

	Within a few days soldiers were going out on their own. There was 
still only one bow and arrow, and they sometimes returned without a 
catch, but more often than not they got used to having small pieces of 
meat in their diet again.

	But there was still tension in their little community. Mindy was 
a skilled cook (though not in Levi's league) and a great organizer, but 
also a neatness freak. She would inspect every dish after they finished 
washing it off and if she saw one speck of dirt she would freak out. 
Even if the dishes were cleaned but not stacked properly the soldier in 
charge of the cleaning detail that morning would get an earful. She 
proved to be much less popular with the soldiers than Levi. A common 
topic of conversation in the evenings was how to make her disappear 
while making it look like an accident. Within a month the soldiers had 
come up with nearly fifty different suggestions, spurred on by Mindy's 
compulsiveness.

	Her compulsiveness extended to all areas. Were the leaf cloths 
not stacked properly? Someone would get a lecture.  Had the campfire 
area not been properly swept? Someone would hear about that too.

	Croft could see that this was hurting morale and he spoke to Levi 
about it. But Levi merely shrugged, as if it didn't concern him. Levi 
was always very inwardly directed, concerned with his own research and 
activities; anything else didn't interest him. He had achieved peace 
with Mindy with a compromise; she ruled everywhere but the lab, where 
he was free to do whatever he wished. Unfortunately the soldiers had no 
such exclusionary zone.

	Another source of tension occurred at night. They started to hear 
sounds in the forest, of something or somethings stomping around. One 
time they heard a roar that woke everyone up and made them wonder if 
they should expect a hostile visitor.

	Croft asked Levi about it, and was told it might be bears.

	"Usually they don't come around here," said Levi. "But of course, 
I don't sleep outdoors, so hard to say."

	But the biggest problem occurred when they woke up one morning to 
find the small supply shed that Levi maintained had been broken into. 
He used it to store seeds and farming equipment. In the early days the 
soldiers had petitioned to have the shed emptied so at least a few of 
them could sleep there, protected from the elements, but Croft had 
sided with Levi, believing that if the seed bags were left outside that 
they could be eaten by animals.

	Now the shed was also used to store their modest reserves of 
food. But one morning they found that something or someone had entered 
the shed and consumed a portion of the food.

	"Maybe it was an animal," said Pomiter, surveying the scene.

	"An animal that opens doors?" said Croft. "And look at that bag--
it hasn't been ripped open, it was untied."

	"Do you think that one of our men was responsible?" said Pomiter.

	"Unless you think that Levi is two-timing us, that's the logical 
conclusion," Croft said.

	"I don't know," said Pomiter. "What if someone else came in and 
stole the food?"

	"Someone else?" said Catchbill. "What are the odds of that?"

	"There isn't supposed to be anyone else on Aridor," said Croft 
slowly.

	"We don't know that," said Pomiter. "We got here from Concord. 
Maybe someone else did."

	"Possible," said Croft. "We'll cover all our bases by posting a 
guard here around the clock." He paused. "We'll also post a guard at 
the quarry at night."

	"Is that really necessary?" said Pomiter.

	"I think it may be," said Croft. 



	He spoke about it later alone with Levi. They walked in the 
fields, between small rows of budding plants.

	"You think it was someone from outside?" said Levi.

	"No," said Croft. "I think the likeliest explanation is that one 
of the soldiers got hungry and decided to take an unauthorized snack. 
If it had been someone from the outside, they wouldn't merely have 
snacked but taken everything."

	"Then why the guard at the campsite as well?"

	"Because sooner or later I think we will have visitors," said 
Croft. "And we've seen the kind of anarchy on Concord. Sooner or later 
they're going to find out about us. I don't want to wake up one morning 
with my throat slit."

	"Good point," said Levi. "If think we be overrun, there is 
alternative."

	"What?"

	"Central grasslands. Four hundred miles east, in heart of 
continent," said Levi. "Any stragglers come from Concord, we right 
here, they see us. Go through forest, central grasslands, no one there. 
Never be found."

	"400 miles. That would be quite a journey."

	"Need to build up food reserves. Take a few months," said Levi. 
"Also have to leave my instruments behind."

	"They're not much use to us now," said Croft. He considered. 
"Start stockpiling food. Produce as much excess capacity as you can. 
We'll make sure that there's no more looting."

	"You think we need to do?"

	"I think we may need to leave in a hurry, and that we'll need the 
ability to if necessary," said Croft.

	Croft had Pomiter post two guards, one at the maintenance shed 
and one in the quarry every night. Each pulled a four hour shift before 
being replaced with another guard. Sometimes Croft would get up in the 
middle of the night to check on things.

	Three nights later he woke to hear a rustling in the forest 
outside. He instantly woke up. He stared out into the darkness. There 
was a small fire outside for the sentry on guard. Croft got up and 
cautiously stepped out of the doorway of the room they had built. He 
saw someone slumped over the fire. As if he had been attacked, or hit 
from behind.

	There was a rustling in the bushes. Could it be an animal?

	Animals didn't knock out sentries from behind.

	And Croft didn't even have a weapon.

	The sensible thing to do, he reflected later, would have been to 
go back to the hut and wake everyone else. But if he did that, whoever 
or whatever was in the forest might slip away.

	Croft knelt down to the ground and picked up a sharp rock. It 
would have to do. 

	He crept towards the forest, trying to circle around some 
distance from the noise he heard. In retrospect, he realized that his 
actions were especially idiotic. What if the attacker had a spear? He 
could run Croft through before he had the chance to run or call for 
help.

	Croft crept closer to the forest's edge, near the quarry. He saw 
but didn't hear a rustle in the bushes ahead, closer to the campfire. 
Was the attacker returning to finish the sentry off?

	But Croft couldn't see the attacker yet, not clearly, for whoever 
or whatever it was still in the forest. Croft slowly made his way 
towards the spot where he saw the bushes rustling.

	It was moving again, and Croft could see major movement as he got 
closer. It was either a person, or a large animal. Either was bad news.

	And then the intruder stepped out cautiously in the clearing, and 
Croft got a clear look for the first time. It was a person! The 
scavenger, clad in rags and crouched over, was slowly making his way to 
the fallen sentry.

	Croft started to emerge from the forest as silently as possible. 
But as he moved he stepped on a twig, making a small snapping sound.

	The intruder froze, looking this way and that. All was silent for 
a moment. And then the intruder started scampering towards the fallen 
sentry by the campfire again.

	Croft took a deep breath, emerged from the forest, and using 
techniques he had learned well in his work at the Agency, walked 
quietly but quickly, gaining on his target. He had to reach the 
intruder before he could do further harm to the sentry.

	The intruder closed, until he was only a few feet from the 
sentry. And then he was over the fallen sentry, bending down-

	-and Croft was on the intruder, tackling him. He wrestled the 
intruder, pinning his arms to the ground. The intruder struggled for a 
moment, but then stopped. Croft could see in the dim firelight that he 
was painfully thin, and clothed in rags. 

	"Eh? What's going on?" said the sentry, suddenly getting up.

	Croft could see that the sentry was Shakey.

	"Shakey? Are you all right?" said Croft.

	"All right? Of course," said Shakey.

	"I thought he... you....," said Croft. Suddenly it became crystal 
clear. The intruder hadn't attacked Shakey. Shakey had fallen asleep on 
duty. 

	"Who's that you got there?" Shakey asked.

	"Let me go, please," said the intruder Croft had pinned down.

	"Let me get some answers, first," said Croft. "Who are you, and 
what are you doing here?"

	"My name is Charlie, Charlie Taze," said the intruder. "I came 
looking for food."

	"Did you break into our food supplies three days ago?"

	"No, I haven't eaten in that time, I just got here," said Taze.

	"How did you get  here?"

	"The tube, underground. I walked."

	Croft stared at the youngster. He seemed terrified. Making a 
decision, he released the young man. He scampered to his feet and 
scuttled a few feet away, looking uncertain.

	"Sorry about that," said Croft. "But that's what you get for 
sneaking up on us."

	"I didn't know who you were," said Taze. "I still don't know who 
you are?"

	"We're a comedic acting duo," said Croft. "My name is Clifford 
Croft. This is my sidekick, Shakey Walbaum."

	"Me being your sidekick? That's not funny," said Shakey.

	"Neither is falling asleep on duty," said Croft. "We'll deal with 
your punishment later."

	They decided to feed Charlie, and he agreed to work with Levi on 
the farm, and so he informally joined the team. Over the next few weeks 
several more stragglers appeared. All had had the same idea that Croft 
had, that food would be more plentiful on Aridor.

	Stragglers came in streams of ones and twos every week or so 
turned into ones or twos every day and then four and fives. It happened 
gradually, but at some point what had been an outpost for exhausted 
soldiers turned into a small frontier town.

	 



Chapter 3:  The Cook In Charge



What a difference six months makes. 

	When they first arrived they had built scarcely more than a small 
hut in the quarry. The fields had been expanded to grow food to support 
a mere two dozen or so people. Their tools were limited, and the only 
clothes they were able to make were the cottony leaf blankets. 

	But once Levi had gotten the ball rolling on the farming, he had 
decided to focus on creating inventions. The first thing he did once 
the immediate food crisis was over was to plant some cotton and to 
invent a loom. Very soon thereafter Mindy was supervising the creation 
of rough but adequate warmer clothes, just in time for the winter. Levi 
also created several more bow and arrows so that more than one person 
could go hunting at the same time, and he trained more people how to 
shoot. Then he went prospecting and found a naturally forming rubbery 
substance down by the river that had excellent insulating properties. 
He used that to patch over cracks in the roof to make them virtually 
leakproof. 

	Levi also built a blacksmithing forge that, with great effort, 
could be used to make metal tools. He used that to build a grill that 
could be used to cook food more evenly over the fire. Levi seemed to be 
everywhere at once, building, tinkering, walking around and muttering 
at all hours of the night as his mind worked over time thinking of new 
inventions. But that was what he did best.

	Unfortunately, with Levi focused on creating inventions, he 
didn't have time to supervise the farming. And since none of the 
arrivals knew very much, if anything, about farming, there was only one 
other candidate to supervise the farm work, but Levi's choice of a 
successor stirred a lot of resistance among the farm hands.

	"A dog?" said Corporal (now farm-hand) Watson. "You expect us to 
take orders from a dog?"

	"Not just any dog," said Levi, during a fireside chat.

	"Arf!" said Quick.

	"What does a dog know about farming, besides fertilizing the 
crops?" Watson asked.

	"Quick has watched me, knows what I know," said Levi. "Has also 
read agronomy text."

	"The dog reads?" said Watson. "You have a dog that reads?"

	Pomiter cleared his throat, "Ah, even if you want to put this dog 
in charge-"

	"Not in charge, coordinator," said Levi.

	"Ah, yes, coordinator, how will the dog-"

	"Quick."

	"Quick, how will Quick let us know what to do?" said Pomiter. "We 
don't understand animal noises."

	"Quick!" said Levi.

	The small type 212(b) Pomeranian's ears perked up.

	"Here, boy," said Levi.

	The Pomeranian trotted over to Levi. Levi reached down, whispered 
something in Quick's left ear. 

	The Pomeranian turned his head towards Pomiter, then looked at 
Levi. Levi nodded. "Go, boy!"

	Quick scampered over to Pomiter. Pomiter looked down at the 
Pomeranian. The Pomeranian looked up at Pomiter.

	"Arf!"

	Pomiter looked puzzled.

	The Pomeranian moved his head from Pomiter's face, to gaze at the 
bowl in Pomiter's hand, that had formerly contained his dinner. "Roah!" 
he said.

	"You want the bowl?" said Pomiter.

	"Arf!" said Quick. He scampered over to another part of the 
campsite, twenty feet away. "Arf!" he said, looking at Pomiter, and 
then himself.

	Carrying the bowl, Pomiter slowly walked over to Quick. Quick 
scampered away, another twenty feet. "Arf!"

	The destination only became apparent when Quick arrived at the 
group of stacked bowls on the other side of the campfire. "Arf!" he 
said, as Pomiter stacked his bowl.

	"You see," Levi beamed. "You didn't know what I told him to have 
you do, but he managed to get you to obey."

	"He'd be dynamite at charades," Shakey muttered.

	And so Quick, the type 212(b) Pomeranian, took over as foreman, 
or foredog, of the farming team. He would instruct the work team what 
to dig, how to dig, where to dig, and what to plant. He would tell them 
when they had to water and how much. At first the farm hands thought it 
was extremely odds taking instruction from a toy-sized dog, but after a 
while they stopped thinking about it, and it just became natural.

	"Arf!" said Quick, coming up behind Shakey, who was standing 
still in the fields. Shakey jumped. "Hey, I'm just taking a break, what 
do you want?"

	"Arf!"

	"Just a minute, ok?"

	Quick grabbed onto Shakey's trouser with his teeth, and started 
to pull. "All right, all right, Mr. Pomeranian boss sir, I'm working, 
I'm working."

	"Roah!"

	Watching from a distance, Croft smiled. He turned to Levi, who 
was taking a rare break. "Did he really read an agronomy textbook?"

	"Did I mention that Quick can write, too?" said Levi. He turned 
away before Croft could look to see if Levi was smiling.



	They constantly had to expand the area under cultivation as more 
and more people arrived. They also had to build more huts in the quarry 
to accommodate them. Croft could quickly see that the additional 
newcomers would consume any additional food supplies they built up, 
making it impossible for them to migrate to the central grasslands.

	"What do you think?" said Croft. He was at top-level  meeting 
with Levi and General Arkik in Levi's cramped lab below the lodge.

	General Arkik had been one of the leaders of the resistance in 
the fight against the Insects on August. A retired military commander 
who hobbled on a cane, he had arrived three months after Croft had with 
a platoon of his own. They would have had trouble absorbing a group of 
that size if the general's men hadn't brought supplies of their own. 

	The General brought interesting but depressing news from Concord. 
With the loss of power, the western continent had descended into 
anarchy, even worse than when Croft had been there. Much of the 
organized military units who had resisted the Insects had fallen apart, 
and gangs ruled much of Concord. While they could grow food on 
rooftops, their yields weren't as productive as they had been when they 
used underground gardens and hotlamps, and roving gangs were constantly 
on the prowl to steal food. The General and his men had made their way 
here through the underground tube, figuring, correctly, that there 
would be more opportunity and fewer predators on the eastern continent.

	"Eventually they'll figure out you're here and come after you," 
said Arkik bluntly. "It's not a question of if, but a question of 
when."

	"Which raises the question of migration again," said Croft. 
"Levi?"

	Levi paused. "Problem is need to feed new immigrants. Barely 
keeping pace."

	"What if we started turning them away?"

	Levi paused. "If we turned them away, and concentrated on 
expanding acreage, maybe.... maybe in three months we could have enough 
for the journey."

	"How defensible are these central grasslands?" said Arkik.

	"Not very," said Levi. "All flat. But chances of being found are 
small. Is a very big continent."

	"But our current location isn't very defensible either," said 
Croft. "Not unless we build a rock wall around our settlement, which 
would take a tremendous amount of time and energy."

	"What about Mount Montalk?" said Arkik.

	"What about it?"

	"It's a mountain, is it not? Mountains are often defensible."

	"Yes," said Levi. "Very steep. Only one good path up. 
Defensible."

	"Yes, but we'd have to abandon our fields and sleeping quarters 
here to go there," said Croft. "Not an option of first resort."

	"So what think?" said Levi.

	Croft paused. "So far we haven't had any trouble. But from what 
the good general tells us, we should expect trouble.  I think Levi's 
three month goal of creating a sufficient food reserve so we could 
march to the central grasslands is optimistic, to say the least. And 
that would require us to let newcomers starve."

	"I don't like the idea of letting people starve than you do," 
said Arkik. "But if it's necessary for our survival...."

	"If Levi had let us starved when we arrived, we'd be dead," said 
Croft. "I wouldn't wish that on anyone else. Most of the people 
arriving here are on their last legs. I don't think in good conscience 
we can let them die."

	"We're not responsible for the whole planet," said Arkik.

	He glared at Croft. Croft matched his stare. For a moment no one 
spoke.

	"We are not going to let people die," said Croft. "There's been 
enough of that over the past 20 years."

	"Then what do you suggest?"

	"Let's build up our defenses," said Croft. "Make weapons, 
establish a garrison at the exit to the tube. If things get desperate, 
maybe we can figure out a way to destroy the tube."

	"Why not do that now?"

	"We may need to go back to Concord," said Croft, purposefully not 
being specific. "Has there been any news from off-planet?" he asked, 
changing the subject.

	"How could there be? We don't have a working comm," said Arkik. 
"The last I heard was that this energy draining thing had struck other 
planets. We have no idea how many, if any Alliance planets were struck 
by this thing."

	"And what about the fleet?" Croft asked.

	Arkik shook his head. "The last we heard was that the Glory was 
heading out to intercept the Monumental ship."

	"And then we got hit," said Croft, suddenly realizing what 
happened. If the Insects had made a successful attack run, that must 
have meant that they got past the Glory. And War Admiral Norman North.

	Then they really were on their own.

	Arkik interrupted his train of thought. "Has there been any 
analysis of this mist?"

	"Without power for our instruments, how could there be?" said 
Croft.

	"I just wonder if it's really draining energy."

	"What do you mean?"

	"I mean maybe it's kind of a sophisticated EMP pulse, that 
disrupts our electronics."

	"Even if that were true, what difference would it make?" Croft 
asked.

	"Well, if power were working but our machinery were broken, we 
could attempt to build new machinery and start things moving again," 
said Arkik.

	Levi was slowly shaking his head. "No, General."

	"No what?'

	"Is not so. Machines work, or rather have potential to work," 
said Levi. "Able to perform micro experiments, can see my generator 
begins to generate energy, only to have it absorbed."

	"It doesn't seem to absorb all kinds of energy," said Arkik. 
"Certainly not the chemical energy that powers our bodies."

	"But it does absorb most everything else, including, to a lesser 
extent, light from the sun," said Croft. "It's a very odd sort of 
Monumental weapon. It doesn't destroy, but merely incapacitates."

	"So?"

	"So I wonder what the Monumental used it for. They certainly had 
the power to destroy planets; if they had that power, why would they 
have a weapon like this?"

	"Well, if there were any Monumental around, we could ask them," 
said Arkik. 

	That sparked an idea in Croft, but he said nothing.



	The settlement continued to expand, to one hundred, then two 
hundred, then to over three hundred people. Every new person who came 
into camp was offered the same deal--half rations for a week, and 
sleeping outdoors, which was all they could spare, in return for hard 
work. If they worked hard and helped boost farming output, they'd be 
made permanent members of the group, with full rations and a chance to 
get on the waiting list for permanent shelter. The growth in population 
had far outstripped their ability to create new housing, especially as 
most of their efforts were devoted to increasing the amount of arable 
land. Land had to be cleared even before it could be tilled, and that 
was backbreaking work. 

	Meanwhile other problems were cropping up, as time passed and the 
weather became warmer. They entered the dry season, and strain on the 
water supply increased. All of their water came from a stream from the 
nearby Lake Kinneret, but the lack of rain and the sudden growth of 
their population, combined with an increased need for water for 
farming, was draining the lake.

	"We need to dig a new channel from the Kinneret to the new fields 
in sector four," said Levi, walking through the fields with Croft and 
General Arkik. "Quick, get it started."

	"Arf!" said the Pomeranian, running off.

	"I wish I had him in my army, he'd make a great master sergeant," 
said Arkik half-sarcastically.

	"You engineered such a smart dog, but why did you make him so 
small, Levi?" Croft asked. "Why didn't you make a genius Collie, for 
example?"

	"Didn't know would be used for farm work," said Levi. "Wanted 
something small and portable."

	"Like a lappad computer," said Croft. "Steven Quick must be out 
there, somewhere. I wonder what will happen when he finds out you've 
named a dog after him."

	"He be quite flattered, of course," said Levi.

	"Oh, Of course," said Croft.

	They walked to a staging area between the settlement and the 
entrance to the underground tube from Concord. Soldiers were sharpening 
the ends of sticks to make spears, and fingering crude bows in an 
unfamiliar way.

	Croft, looking at the weapons, sighed. 

	"Well, at least they can't surprise us," said Arkik.

	"Can't they?" said Croft. "That presumes they walk over here like 
we did."

	"What's the alternative?"

	"They could make a boat," said Croft.

	"A boat? Without power? How would it move?" said Arkik.

	"Oars. Wind. Sail," said Croft, patiently.

	"Oh," said Arkik. "But it's over 50 miles to the coast. Do you 
really think such primitive vessels could get so far?"

	"They've been known to travel farther," said Croft. "But we don't 
have resources to station lookouts up and down the coast. A watch on 
the tube station will have to suffice, for now."

	Already newcomers were being interdicted right as they emerged 
from the tube station and brought to the settlement. No one else had 
successfully sneaked up on them since Taze had arrived.

	But not all the emigres from Concord were working out equally 
well. As they walked back towards the fields Croft saw one worker, 
leaning on a hoe and staring into the sky without a scare in the world.	

	"Is that lazy Ted?" said Croft, peering into the distance. "Or 
lazy Sil?"

	Sil and Ted were two newcomers who hadn't shown a great 
enthusiasm for manual farm labor. 

	"One way to find out," Levi grunted. He gave a high pitched 
whistle.

	"That wasn't very loud," said Croft. "Who can hear that?"

	A moment later a small figure came bounding towards them. It was 
Quick.

	Levi didn't say anything, merely pointing to the lacker in the 
field. Quick, still in mid-stride, changed course and homed in like a 
guided missile, coming up behind the farm hand. He gave a hearty, 
"Roah!" and the figured jumped.

	"Hey!" they could distantly hear him say.

	"So it is Ted," Croft commented, as they walked on. They didn't 
bother to watch Quick remonstrate with Lazy Ted; Quick knew his job.

	As they walked back to the camp they found Yosemite Catchbill 
sitting next to the fire.

	"Aren't you supposed to be working on clearing the new field?" 
Croft asked.

	"Arna volunteered to take my shift," Catchbill grinned.

	"All right, what did you use to gamble with?" said Croft. 

	"Gamble?"

	"If I have to ask again, you won't like how I ask," said Croft.

	"Just a small bet whose soup bowl would be filled a bit higher 
last night."

	"Really," said Croft. "And what did you bribe the soup handler 
with?"

	"Croft," said Catchbill, looking hurt. "I'm shocked you would 
think I would do such a thing."

	"I've got news for you, Yosi," said Croft. "It's time to get back 
to work."

	"But... but... you can't outlaw gambling!"

	"No," said Croft. "But I can outlaw cheating. You can gamble all 
you like, Catchbill. But everyone, including you, works your shift. If 
I catch someone else doing your work for you, you'll pull a double 
night shift back to back. Sergeant Benesh!"

	Benesh, a former elite jump trooper with an iron barrel chest, 
stepped forward and saluted. "Sir!"

	"Escort this fine gentleman to field clearing duty at grid 4B. I 
think there's a homemade machete with his name on it."

	Catchbill looked up at the big beefy soldier and gulped as Benesh 
stood between Catchbill and the sunlight. Benesh stared at him for a 
moment, as if waiting, then grabbed his arm. "You will move or I will 
drag you!"

	"I can see everything's well in hand," said Croft, as they walked 
away. 



	There was a need to keep morale up. In the beginning the vast 
majority of the settlers were soldiers, but the constant trickle of 
newcomers were almost entirely civilians, changing the composition of 
the group. Most of the civilians were hard workers but weren't as 
disciplined as the military or even the former resistance fighters.

	The sky and the sun was still shrouded in the mist, making the 
day seem dim even in what should've been bright morning or early 
afternoon. All that darkness was bound to have a depressing effect, and 
the repetitive drudgery of physical labor didn't help.

	What people needed was hope. Hope of getting power back, hope of 
rescue from the outside. But there was no way of getting word from off-
planet, assuming there was anyone left to send word who wasn't in an 
identical condition. And without technology, they had no way of trying 
to analyze the mist and counteract it.

	Levi had spent a considerable amount of time trying to create a 
generator using alternative power sources that wouldn't be affected by 
the mist. But it didn't work. He made a simple solar collector, but the 
energy was drained as quickly as it was collected. All energy was being 
drained.

	Why did the Monumental create such a weapon? What use did they 
have for it? Was it a punishment for their enemies? Or did it have some 
other purpose? They would probably never know.

	Levi still seemed convinced that the effect of the mist was not 
dissipating. According to him, the power drain could last for 
centuries, or longer.

	And so without real hope the survivors needed the next best 
thing, a distraction, entertainment to keep their minds off of their 
situation. But there were no holoprograms on Aridor, no technological 
pyrotechnics that could be used to entertain them. At night after they 
finished working, the settlers didn't even have much in the way of 
light, except for the large communal campfires.

	So what they started to do was gather around the campfires and 
whisper to each other. That's how it started. And then one of them, an 
amateur actor, perhaps, got up in front of them and started to recite a 
few lines from his favorite holodrama. And then another did, and 
another. The only problem is that holodramas hadn't aired in 20 years, 
and many of them forgot the lines.

	So they recited what they did remember, holocommercials. Every 
night the masses were treated to people singing the merits of soaps, 
fabrics, household appliances, and defunct eatery establishments.

	"Eat at Hosteins, the yummy-yum-yum of the yummy-yum-yum-" a 
barritone voice sung, as others clapped.

	"What morons," said Croft, watching from a distance.

	"Cannot blame," said Levi. "Trauma of invasion. Lost all that is 
familiar to them."

	"Berry's, wash good, wash right-"

	"When the human race was conquered by the Insects, we fell a few 
notches in the evolutionary scale," said Croft. "When we lost the use 
of all our technology, we fell a few more. But when the human race is 
reduced to listening to puerile product sponsorships for entertainment,  
I'm not sure how much lower there is to go."

	"What wrong?" said Levi. "We alive. Could be worse."

	"I'll tell you what's wrong," Croft whispered. "I'm an 
infiltrator. I'm a spy. That's what I do. I'm not a settler, not a 
farmer, and certainly not a farm administrator. I've been helping run 
things, and, I might say, I've been trying to keep things efficient, 
but Levi, I'm starting to get bored to tears."

	Croft paused. "You know, Levi, I got up this morning and realized 
something. I'm in charge here. I never planned it, never asked for it. 
It just happened."

	"You are take charge operative."

	"Of operative teams, yes. But look at us Levi, we're a town, not 
an Agency team. Why is everybody following me?"

	"You are the Croft," said Levi simply.

	"As good an answer as any, I suppose."

	"You do efficiently, that's why others follow," said Levi. "But 
if need help, maybe can get some military to help out," said Levi. 

	"I've started training a few of the midranking officers with that 
in mind," said Croft. "But Levi, even assuming I turn this burden over 
to someone else, what do I do then? Start pushing a plow?"

	To that Levi gave no answer.



	When the population reached 700 they had to stop emigration 
entirely. They couldn't build housing or clear fields fast enough to 
support the newcomers, and as the weather got warmer and they went into 
the dry season, the Kinneret started to drain to dangerously low 
levels. Between the dry heat, the drinking and water needs of the 
settlers, and the increased water demand of the crops, they couldn't 
afford to expand the population any more than they had.

	But newcomers kept showing up. So what they decided to do was to 
give each newcomer a two day supply of food, a crash course on what in 
the forest was edible and what wasn't, a handful of seeds and 
information on places along the coast that might be arable.

	It wasn't easy for these newcomers, but gradually smaller, 
independent settlements started to spring up along the coast. Some of 
them weren't really settlements; most couldn't manage to do more than 
gather berries in the forest and sleep in trees. Some of the newcomers 
attempted to steal food from the settlement, forcing Croft to string 
more guards around the area, especially at night. He wanted to build a 
fence or a wall to encompass the entire area, but they simply didn't 
have the manpower or the readily accessible materials to do so. Levi 
had already commandeered all the labor available that wasn't farming to 
build a new irrigation ditch from the Kinneret.

	A few weeks before they cut off immigration an important person 
showed up. Actually, several important people.

	Croft heard a commotion and walked over to the receiving area, to 
see a large smiling man carrying carrying a scrawny and pale much 
smaller man in his arms.

	"I suppose this is something that I could have predicted," said 
Croft.

	"Yes, yes, Croft always with the witty line," the one being 
carried hissed.

	"Are you going to follow me everywhere, Mongo?" said Croft. "And 
Smiley, why are you carrying him?"

	Mongo, the one being carried, was an Agency gamma operative, a 
sensitive with the ability to see images of the future, or possible 
futures. His skill was very useful, but he was a little unbalanced and 
could (and did) rub people the wrong way).

	Smiley was a different kettle of fish altogether. Always smiling, 
always friendly, Croft couldn't put his finger on the exact reason that 
Smiley was odd, at least until the time that Smiley got shot with 
blaster fire and didn't get a scratch. They still hadn't figured out 
who or what he was.

	"Can let me down now, thanks," said Mongo.

	"Sure," Smiley grinned, slowly dropping Mongo to the ground. 
"Hello Croft!" he said, his grin getting wider, if at all posssible.

	"Hey Smiley," said Croft. "Now can you tell me why you were 
carrying him?"

	"He asked me to," Smiley smiled.

	"Mongo, are you injured?" said Croft.

	"Yes, injured, weak legs," said Mongo.

	Croft did the necessary translation. "You got tired of walking, 
and got Smiley to carry you. How far has he been carrying you?"

	"How many miles is tube thing underwater?" Mongo countered. 

	"You had him carry you for 50 miles?" said Croft.

	"Mongo's feet delicate," said Mongo. "Just like his hands. Don't 
even think of making Mongo do naaaasty physical labor, no."

	"Sir, do you want me to chuck these two out?" said Sergeant 
Benesh. He grabbed Mongo by the arm. Mongo squealed. Croft gestured for 
him to let Mongo go. 

	Mongo rubbed his apparently sore arm. "You will nearly choke on a 
carrot tonight at dinner," said Mongo, glaring at him.

	Benesh looked confused.

	"Everyone has to work here," said Croft.

	"I'll be happy to work," said Smiley.

	"That goes without saying," said Croft. "But what can you do, 
Mongo?"

	"Has Croft forgotten, yes, forgotten what we can do?" Mongo said.

	"We don't have a great demand for fortune telling on a farm," 
said Croft.

	Mongo concentrated for a moment, but couldn't think of anything 
either. He squealed and tried to look pathetic. 

	"Should I send this one out, sir?" said Benesh.

	"No, pleeeeease!" said Mongo, grabbing Croft by the leg. He 
started sobbing. "Don't send poor Mongo away, please! Mongo will 
staaaarve....."

	Croft considered. "Well, you're not really built for heavy farm 
work....."

	He paused. Mongo looked expectantly. Croft tried to think. 

	"...but I suppose you could help with routine chores, like 
cooking and cleaning dishes."

	"Cooking! Yes, Mongo make very good cook. Can create great 
recipes-"

	"You forget that I've seen what you eat," said Croft. "You'll 
work under Levi or Mindy or whoever's in charge of cooking, on a 
temporary basis. If I get any complaints about you...."

	"No, no one will complain!" shrieked Mongo. He petted Croft's 
foot vigorously. "Good Croft! Nice Croft! Very grateful for letting 
Mongo stay."

	Benesh escorted Mongo to the cooking area.

	"His gratitude should last for at least a few minutes," said 
Croft to himself. He heard a shriek in the distance. "Maybe I 
overestimated."



	But the most important immigrant arrived two weeks before they 
closed the settlement to new visitors. If the visitor had arrived two 
weeks later, the history of the settlement would have been very, very 
different.

	The most important immigrant was Senator Wellington Goodmon, one 
of the 88 senators in the old League of Unified Worlds which had been 
crushed by the Insects. Before the invasion Goodmon, a Senator for the 
past 200 years, had been one of the most powerful establishment figures 
on August.

	But after the invasion he was just another laborer in an Insect 
work camp. He kept a low profile and just tried to survive. His 
strategy worked.

	When a new kind of anarchy descended on August after the power 
was knocked out, Goodmon heard rumors of the settlement on Aridor and 
made his way there along with a handful of his former political aides. 
When he arrived, Croft welcomed him and gave him the dignity and honor 
someone of his rank deserved.

	"You'll be put to work in the fields immediately," said Croft.

	"The fields?" said Goodmon. "Why?"

	"That's where we grow the food," said Croft patiently. "You'll 
get two meals a day like the rest of us and pull night shifts on watch 
when your turn comes. Your sleeping accommodations will be in the open 
section of the rock quarry."

	"The rock quarry? Don't you have any permanent housing?" Goodmon 
asked.

	"We do, but only enough for about half of us. When you've earned 
your keep you'll be put on a rotation list to spend some nights 
inside," said Croft.

	"Rotation list? I should think I should go to the head of the 
list," said Goodmon.

	"Go easy on the thinking, it's in short supply here," said Croft 
reflexively. "If you have no further questions, Quick will escort you 
to the fields and provide you with your instructions."

	"Quick?" said Goodmon, looking around but not seeing anyone.

	"Arf!"

	Looking down, Goodmon saw the small dog for the first time.

	"Yes, that's Quick," said Croft. "Meet your new boss."

	"Arf!"

	"My good man, you can't be serious about putting us under the 
charge of a canine!"

	"I'm very serious," said Croft.

	"A man of my position can't be expected to do manual labor," said 
Goodmon.

	"What did you do under the Insect regime, knitting?" Croft asked.

	"That was different, I was a captive," said Goodmon.

	"And you're not a captive here," said Croft. "You're free to 
leave any time you like. But there's only about three hours of dim 
sunlight left. If I don't see you at work in the fields in the next 
five minutes, I don't expect to see you here at dinner."

	Goodmon opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

	"Give me a full report," said Croft, bending down to pet Quick on 
the head.

	"Arf!" said the supervisor, wagging his tail twice.

	Goodmon and his aides followed Quick onto the fields.

	Croft looked vaguely satisfied as he folded his arms. "Finally, a 
politician willing to get his hands dirty."



	But, of course, it didn't end there. During their evening 
fireside free time, Goodmon did what politicians do best: talk.  He 
started with small things. Weren't they tired of the same food? Always 
sleeping on the hard ground? Why was their labor so backbreaking? Who 
addressed their concerns?

	The others, who initially started listening to Goodmon out of 
indifference, started paying more and more attention to him during his 
fireside chats. After all, there wasn't much else to do after nightfall 
except listen to renditions of old holocommercials.

	Croft could see where this was leading, but he didn't have a 
ready solution at hand. He couldn't exactly silence Goodmon; as long as 
Goodmon covered his workshifts--which Quick reported that he grudgingly 
was--any attempt to move against him would be perceived as heavy-
handed. Goodmon wasn't guilty of stealing, or failing to perform his 
chores, but what he was guilty of was slowly but surely tearing the 
settlement apart.

	"We have to do something about him," said Arkik acidly.

	"But could we make it look like an accident," Croft idly 
wondered.

	"I'm sure we could," said Arkik.

	"I was just joking," said Croft.

	"He's a troublemaker," said another officer, Major Rambus.

	"Our lives are hanging by a thread here. We can't let that fool 
destroy the precious foothold we've created," said Arkik.

	"What would you suggest?" Croft said.

	"We get rid of him, expel him." said Arkik. The other officers 
present, Major Rambus, Lieutenant Pomiter, and a newcomer named Captain 
Kiley, nodded.

	"That might have been possible a month ago, but he's acquired too 
much of a following," said Croft. "And he's been smart enough not to 
break any of the rules."

	"You know he's going to move against you," said Arkik. "Are you 
going to sit there and just let it happen?"

	"Do I ever?" said Croft.

	

	"Want to bet things will come to a head tonight?" Catchbill 
whispered to Lazy Ted and Sil, who along with others were filing 
towards the large public fire to enjoy the evening's entertainment.

	Ted shook his head. "If you're willing to bet, it either means 
you're manipulating events or you have inside information on what's 
going to happen."

	"You're so suspicious," said Catchbill.

	Goodmon went in front of the crowd, as was now his custom, and 
started talking about grievances. But tonight he took a different tact. 
"We all have reason to be grateful to Clifford Croft. It was his 
effort, along with the brave military, that helped to overthrow the 
Insects. But what we're dealing with now is civilian administration. We 
can't expect a surveillance operative to have experience-"

	"It seems you don't expect much of me," said Croft, suddenly 
appearing in front of the campfire.

	Goodmon looked startled. This was the first time that Croft had 
made a front and center appearance at one of his evening speeches. He 
was put off-balance, but only for a moment. 

	"Ah, Croft, good. We were just wondering-"

	"-who has more experience running a colony, no doubt" said Croft. 
"I now have over six months experience. Everyone who has more 
experience, raise your hand. Don't be shy, raise'm high."

	There was silence for a moment.

	"Ah, specific experience is not the issue," said Goodmon, 
recovering somewhat. "We were just looking for some more responsiveness 
on some issues."

	"We?" said Croft. He smiled broadly for the audience. "You're all 
alone up here. Have you been picking up your speaking habits from 
Mongo?"

	There was a scattered laughter in the audience, as well as a 
familiar screech.

	"This is serious," said Goodmon. "This is not a dictatorship. 
What gives you the right to determine how this community is to be run? 
Who elected you?"

	"Ah, I thought the issues were blankets and housing," said Croft.

	"Those are symptomatic of the main problem, unrepresentative 
government."

	"So, you want to hold an election," said Croft.

	"Yes, to establish legitimacy," said Goodmon. "It's a basic 
tenant of sound government."

	"Basic tenant, hm," said Croft. "Can't argue with that. All 
right, we'll hold an election."

	"What?" said Goodmon. He hadn't expected Croft to concede this 
quickly.

	"Right now," said Croft. 

	"But... what about the rules, procedure-"

	Croft ticked them off on his fingers. "Anyone can nominate a 
candidate. Each candidate can give a speech. After each candidate has 
spoken, we vote by secret ballot. The winner is by an absolute 
majority; if no one gets it, a runoff will be held the following 
night."

	Goodmon looked surprised. "But, I need time, to prepare-"

	"You?" said Croft. "Do you plan to run?"

	"Well, I ah, might want to offer my services to the community-"

	"Then by all means, offer them now," said Croft. He raised his 
voice. "That's going to be tonight's entertainment, folks, a genuine 
democratic election. Doesn't that beat old holocommercial jingles?"

	There was laughter in the audience.

	"Very well," said Croft. "Who will be the first to be nominated?"

	"I nominate Cliff-" came a voice.

	"Out of order!" said Croft. "Please raise your hand to be 
recognized."

	A sea of hands went up. Croft looked through them in the dim 
light until he saw the face he wanted, that of Marzipan, one of 
Goodmon's hacks. He recognized Marzipan.

	"I nominate Wellington Goodmon!" said Marzipan.

	Croft nodded. "Goodmon is nominated. Mr. Goodmon, would you like 
to address the audience to tell them why you should be elected... just 
a moment, what is it we're holding an election for?"

	"Mayor."  "Coordinator."  "Dictator at large." Came the shouts.

	Croft laughed. "Mayor will do, for now I think. Well, Goodmon?"

	Goodmon was flabbergasted at the speed at which events were 
moving. "Aren't you even going to accept other nominations first?"

	"I will, after you give your speech," said Croft. "Each person 
will get their say right after they're nominated."

	"But that's not the way it's done," said Goodmon.

	"Perhaps when you're running things," said Croft. "Would you like 
to address the crowd, or forfeit your right to speak before the vote?"

	"But I've had no time to prepare!"

	"That hasn't stopped you before," Croft noted. Someone in the 
audience laughed again.

	"Very well," Goodmon said, licking his lips and trying not to 
look like a trapped animal. He gave The Speech. He spoke at length 
about his experience in public service, how he wanted to improve their 
situation, and how he would be a humble public servant, and so on and 
so forth. Croft tuned it all out, standing silently, not cutting 
Goodmon off. Some wondered why. And then Goodmon got to the interesting 
part.

	"I had not intended to offer myself up for this post, but I do so 
for a most important reason," said Goodmon. "Above all else, we need a 
civilian in this role. Military and spies have their purpose in war, 
but we are not at war. We are trying to establish a civilian 
administration that's responsive to the people, and that's why we need 
a skilled civilian hand. Most of us, after all, are civilians, and we 
are not being accustomed to being ruled by the military-"

	"Thank you," said Croft, suddenly speaking up. "Thank you. You've 
used up your time-"

	"But I-"

	"As well as the time of the following two speakers as well," said 
Croft, to laughter from the audience.

	"You're not taking this very seriously," said Goodmon, staring 
meaningfully at the audience.	

	"To be more precise, I'm not taking you very seriously," said 
Croft, again to laughter. "Now, are there any more nominations for 
Mayor?"

	"I nominate Clifford Croft!" this came from Charlie Taze. Several 
other voices in the audience spontaneously said the same thing.

	"Thank you," said Croft. "I appreciate it. But I must decline to 
be nominated."

	Several hundred set of jaws dropped simultaneously.

	"If nominated, I will refuse to run, if elected, I will refuse to 
serve," said Croft, giving a small smile. "I think Mr. Goodmon is 
right, we do need civilian leadership at the top. Although I am not in 
the military, strictly speaking, my line of work isn't exactly 
civilian. Therefore, it is with great sadness that I decline the 
nomination."

	Senator Goodmon got over the stunned feeling to suddenly realize 
that the nomination was being handed to him. But why?

	Now was not the time to wonder why. Goodmon stepped forward, 
opening his mouth to speak.

	"Not yet, Senator," said Croft. "I'm still entertaining 
nominations. Are there any other nominations?" he asked. There was 
silence. Where there had once been a forest of hands competing for 
attention, there was now none.

	"I say again, are there any other nominations?" said Croft, with 
an edge in his voice.

	And then, slowly, in the back, a bony arm rose.

	"Yes?" said Croft.

	"We nominate... we nominate the Cook, yessss," said Mongo, 
speaking in a forced tone. 

	"Who?" said Croft, giving a warning glance. "I can't  hear you."

	"Esherkol!" Mongo shrieked, as if he had been poked by a hot 
poker.

	"That's a surprising turn of events," Shakey commented, sitting 
in the sidelines.

	"I'm glad I didn't take bets on this one," was all Catchbill 
said. "I wonder what the odds were of that happening?"

	Others in the audience thought it was a crackpot request, but 
Croft treated it seriously. 

	"Levi Esherkol has been nominated! Levi, will Levi please come to 
the front!" said Croft.

	Everyone looked around. Levi, an intensely private person, never 
showed up for the evening campfire sessions. But slowly, a figure made 
its way forward in the darkness. It was Levi!

	He looked reluctant, and spoke even more so.

	"A cook," said Goodmon, softly under his breath. "They've got the 
cook to run against me?" He couldn't believe it. He was very surprised 
when Levi immediately launched into what, for him, was a speech.

	"I run for Mayor," said Levi. "I live here, Aridor, longer than 
anyone. Know this area, know how to farm, build things. Not a fancy  
politician," he added, purposefully not looking at Goodmon. "But agree 
that must have civilian control. Am civilian," he said, glossing over 
his history with the Agency. He spoke rigidly, mechanically, as if 
reading someone else's words.

	Suddenly, everything became very clear to Goodmon. As it had 
become clear to Croft, earlier that day.



	He had been in a private meeting with General Arkik, several of 
his officers, Mongo, and Levi. "Goodmon is going to make his move 
tonight," Croft had said.

	"How do you know?" Arkik had said.

	"Tell them, Mongo."

	"Tell them, Mongo," Mongo had said, imitating Croft's voice. "Am 
not a trained parrot-"

	"Mongo!"

	"Badmon will call for elections tonight, standing on right side 
of campfire," Mongo had said. "May actually start out standing at left 
side of campfire, but will end up-"

	"What will be his primary argument?" Croft had asked, 
interrupting him.

	"Say many boring things, but push for civilian control, says must 
have civilians, yes, must not let military run things. Mongo agrees," 
Mongo had added earnestly.

	"Is this reliable?" Arkik had asked skeptically.

	"We have to treat it like it is," Croft had said. "And be ready 
for a counterpunch."

	"What do you suggest?"

	"Give them what they want--a civilian leader."

	"A civilian?"

	Croft looked meaningfully at Levi.

	"No!" Levi had said. "No, no, and no. I not politician."

	"You don't have to be," Croft had said. "We'll continue to run 
things. You'll be mayor in name only."

	"No! Definitely no!"

	"Yes," Croft had said.

	"No!"

	"Levi!" Croft had said, raising a finger. "You are going to do 
this. And Mongo is going to help."

	"No," Levi had again.

	"And Mongo not help," Mongo had added.



	"Thank you for election," said Levi, after the votes were 
counted. It wasn't even close. With the Senator's prime justification 
for the election taken away, his entire candidacy had unraveled. 

	He faced the audience for the first time, as Mayor to them all. 
Mayor Esherkol.

	Croft subtly gestured for him to say something.

	"I, ah, we, ah, will have victory soup for lunch tomorrow," said 
Levi. "I talk with Mindy about adding special ingredients to lunchtime 
soup."

	There was silence for a moment, as if people were waiting for 
more.

	And then a few hands clapped, then more, and more, and it became 
a thunderous applause. Evidently, they liked the idea of having a 
little variety in their diet.



	Croft, General Arkik, and his senior officers continued to run 
things in private, of course. Levi continue to give them technical 
advice about farming, civil engineering, and logistics, while Croft and 
the military would make decisions behind the scene. The only difference 
was that Levi would be the one to publicly announce them. He still 
looked uncomfortable engaging in public speaking, but was starting to 
get used to it. At least now Goodmon was temporarily neutralized and 
they could get back to the business of running the settlement.  

	Whenever Levi was called on to make a decision, however, he would 
look uncertain, and have to confer with the others. For example, one 
time Tanya Kerrick, one of the few civilian supervisors, was having 
trouble getting Lazy Ted and Lazy Sil work.

	"What should I do, Levi?" Tanya asked.

	"They not work?"

	"They pretend to work. They work very very slowly, spending more 
time talking to each other than they do working."

	"Hm," said Levi, apparently deep in thought, but with very little 
idea what to do.

	"Would you like one of us to have a friendly talk with them, 
Levi?" said Croft, who along with a military officer  was Levi's nearly 
constant companion.

	Levi nodded dumbly.

	"We'll send Sergeant Benesh to get in touch with their feelings," 
said Croft. "I'm certain he can find new ways to motivate them."

	Kerrick, eyes flickering from Croft to Levi, had accepted that, 
but she, like the others noticed that Levi wasn't really in charge.

	The situations only became more glaring during their evening 
campfire meetings. Circumstances required that Levi make regular 
reports from time to time in the evenings, partially to be responsive 
to the settlers, but mostly because the audience had little else to do 
at night. So three nights a week Levi made a brief report (written by 
Croft or one of the other military officers) and made himself available 
for questions.

	"When are we going to grow more food so we can eat three times a 
day?"

	"Why isn't there ever enough water?"

	"When are we going to be rescued?"

	"When is there going to be enough space for all of us to sleep 
inside?"

	Levi could field some of these questions on his own--when asked 
about the water supply, for example, he would launch into a discussion 
of the low level of the water table at Lake Kinneret and the need to 
develop new supplies. But his answers were technical and dry, not 
providing the kind of inspiration or excitement the audience seemed to 
be looking for. And on questions of policy, such as "What are work 
shifts going to look like next week?" Levi could only shrug his 
shoulders because Croft and the others hadn't worked it out yet.

	Still, the fields were being plowed, shelter was being built, 
food was being hunted for, and bit by bit their colony was growing 
stronger. Croft felt confident enough to take off with Levi on a short 
hunting trip. Only they weren't hunting food. One thing they were short 
of was medicines and medical supplies. Every so often someone would get 
injured farming, or lifting something heavy, and they wouldn't have the 
means to treat the injured. There were several doctors among them but 
without supplies there was a limit to what they could do.

	Levi, of course, had studied medicine, much as he had dabbled in 
other fields of science, and reported that he had vague memories of a 
plant that might have healing properties that grew somewhere a mile to 
the east of the settlement. Levi just wanted to go off and find his 
plants, but Croft insisted on coming with him. There were other 
scavengers in the forest now, and it wasn't safe to walk alone. And 
Levi was certainly not expendable. Sergeant Benesh accompanied them. 

	"We go this way," said Levi, pointing to a path.

	"Whatever you say, Mayor," said Croft.

	Levi stopped, and pointed at Croft. "Not to call me that. Your 
idea, not mine."

	"We needed a civilian face on the administration," said Croft. 
"Would you rather that Goodmon be in charge?"

	"Am tired of meetings, being in public. Want peace and quiet, so 
I can work."

	"We're giving you as much as we can," said Croft. "I've trained 
Captain Kiley to handle most administrative functions, and Major Rambus 
can handle logistics. We just need you there to ratify things."

	"Am not a performer. Am a cook, an inventor, but not actor."

	"Well, we don't always get to choose our roles," said Croft 
unfeelingly.

	Suddenly, he felt something whisk past his face. He turned and 
saw an arrow thunk into a tree behind him.

	"Down!" said Croft, as Levi and Benesh dropped with him.

	"Did you see where it came from?" Croft whispered to Benesh.

	Benesh shook his head.

	"It seems not everyone happy with administration," Levi 
commented.

	Could it be someone from the settlement trying to assassinate 
them? They had their answer quickly enough as a thin, scrawny voice 
said, "I know you're still there! Get outta here!"

	Levi's expression suddenly brightened, and he stood up.

	"What are you doing?" Croft hissed.

	"Rangon, you put down that bow," said Levi.

	"No one gives me orders!" said the reedy, high pitched voice.

	Croft caught Benesh's eye, made an encirclement gesture with his 
hand. Benesh barely nodded, and scampered off, keeping low.

	"You almost hit friend," said Levi.

	"If I'da want to hit him, he'd be hit!" said the voice. "You're 
trespassing!"

	Croft cautiously stood up. Looking in the direction Levi was, he 
saw a thin man in the trees two dozen feet away.

	"Who are you?" said Croft.

	"Rangon. Ranger Rangon."

	"Says he's a long time ranger," Levi whispered. 

	"This is one of the rangers?" Croft asked.

	"No," said Levi. "Just says it."

	"Maybe he was unhinged by the invasion of the Insects," said 
Croft. The invasion and occupation had broken a lot of people.

	"No," whispered Levi. "Been like this since before. Just a 
regular mad man. But not dangerous, usually."

	"Usually," Croft whispered. "How reassuring."

	"I see you whispering!" said Rangon. "You're talking about me, 
aren't you?"

	"No, the weather," said Croft. "Now, why were you shooting at 
us?"

	"This is my land, see?"

	"All land is your land," said Levi wearily.

	"That's right!"

	"And what if we choose to walk here?" said Croft, wondering why 
they hadn't run into this person before. Maybe had been wandering 
farther afield in the interior of the continent.

	"Then you'll be shot!"

	"Lower your weapon," said Croft, seeing something new behind 
Rangon.  "Lower it, and you won't get hurt."

	"Won't get hurt? I'm the one with the bow! Are you crazy?"

	Sighing, Croft nodded. Benesh grabbed Rangon in a giant bear hug. 
Rangon, dropping the bow, tried to fight back, but as Benesh gripped 
him tighter, his struggling grew feebler and feebler. Benesh, carrying 
him like a sack of potatoes, carried him over to Croft and Levi.

	"Now, what am I going to do with you?" said Croft.

	"Let me go!" said Rangon, still wriggling.

	"If I do that, you're liable to shoot one of us," Croft pointed 
out.

	"Let me go!" Rangon said again, still squirming.

	"I think our friend needs to be held a bit tighter," Croft 
observed

	Benesh crushed him more in an iron grip.

	"Arrrgh! No, ok!" said Rangon.

	"Ok?" said Croft. "Does that mean ok, you won't shoot people 
walking around the forest?"

	Rangon, glaring nodded slightly (that was about as much as he was 
capable of moving). "All right. I'll give you an easement to walk on my 
lands."

	"How generous. I'm glad we were able to come to an 
understanding," said Croft pleasantly. "You can let him go, Sergeant."

	Rangon glared at them as he was released. 

	"You have a nice day," said Croft.

	Other disputes could not be handled as easily. As Mayor, Levi had 
to be involved in mediating between disputes and handing out 
punishments. One typical "trial" was held as an evening campfire event 
where Levi presided over a case involving Lazy Ted and Lazy Sil.

	"So it is your sworn statements that while you were on guard duty 
over the crops that you did not pick any of the corn and eat it for 
yourself, correct?"

	"Definitely," said Lazy Ted. Lazy Sil nodded and smiled.

	"Then how do you explain that the next day, five ears of corn 
were found eaten on the ground in the fields?"

	"Uhhhh," said Lazy Ted.

	Sil looked blank.

	"Any ideas?" Croft asked.

	"Maybe an animal snuck in and ate them," Ted opined.

	"Maybe an animal snuck in and ate them," said Croft. "But upon 
examination, these corn cobs were cleanly picked, and bitten by human 
teeth. What have you to say to that?"

	Ted struggled to generate a thought. "Maybe someone else got in 
and picked the corn.

	"It was awfully dark," Sil added.

	"Awfully," said Ted.

	"But not so dark that a witness didn't observe the culprits the 
following night," Croft noted.

	"A witness?" said Ted, looking more bewildered than usual. "I 
mean, how? It was so dark-"

	"We used special night vision equipment." Croft turned to Levi. 
"Your honor, may I call my witness?" Levi nodded.

	On cue, Quick, the Type 212(b) Pomeranian trotted up to the fire.

	"The dog? You're calling the dog to testify?" said Lazy Ted. "You 
can't do that!"

	There was widespread laughter in the audience around the fire. 
This was a kind of entertainment they liked!

	Croft turned to Quick. "Do you swear to tell the whole truth and 
nothing but the truth?"

	Quick actually raised a paw and said, "Roah!"

	"You see, we suspected you of pilfering food for some time, and 
purposely left the two of you together on guard duty that night," said 
Croft. "But you didn't know you were being watched, did you?" He turned 
to Quick. "Quick, did you see who ate the corn?"

	"Roah!"

	"Who?"

	"Arf arf arf arf arf!"

	"Ted and Sil, I see," said Croft.

	"Wait a minute, how can you possibly understand what he's 
saying?" said Ted. "You could be making it all up!"

	"Quick?" said Croft.

	Quick trotted up to Lazy Ted, pointing at him with his snout. 
"Roah!" he said, before going to do the same with Sil.

	"Do you have anything to say in your defense?" said Croft.

	Ted wet his lips and looked at Sil, who looked blankly back at 
him. "We, uh, were just a bit hungry. We didn't take much."

	The audience roared in disapproval. It took Croft and some 
guardsmen several minutes before they could restore order and turn the 
case over to Levi.

	"We have power to get rid of you," said Levi. 

	Ted and Sil turned visibly pale, even in the dim light.

	Levi continued. "But we give one last chance."

	There were hisses and catcalls from the audience.

	"If you caught stealing again, you are out. If your supervisors 
complain about you, you are out. You are sentenced to three days half 
rations." Levi banged the rock that served as his gavel. The crowd 
perked up at bit when they heard the sentence. Lazy Ted and Sil left 
the light of the campfire to more jeers.

	Later, Levi asked Croft, "Why give another chance?"

	"They're so dumb that they would probably starve on their own," 
said Croft. "But we have to draw the line somewhere, and we've done 
that."



	Things ran well for almost a year after that. Croft didn't start 
to notice the deterioration of the situation for some time. He was too 
distracted.

	After having effectively turned over most day to day duties to 
Major Rambus and Captain Kiley, Croft focused more on long range 
planning.

	It had been nearly a year and a half since they had lost all 
contact with the outside world.  The energy depriving mist, after 
lightening up to a certain degree in the first few weeks, was now at a 
constant and unchanging thickness. They could still see it all around 
them; it still dulled the light of the sun. It was unnerving to 
constantly be surrounded by the sparkling mist, which dramatically cut 
down on their vision. Objects that could be clearly seen at 100 feet 
away were hazy at 50 feet. And as they walked around the mist seemed to 
be sparkling on their skin, like millions of tiny bugs crawling around. 
There was more than one nightmare and even nervous breakdown in the 
settlement because of it.

	For Croft the mist was the symbolic equivalent of a restraining 
force field, a cell that kept him trapped. Would he never be able to 
travel off planet again? Was he destined to spend the rest of his life 
in a primitive agricultural settlement? He almost wished for the days 
of the invasion; his life had been at constant risk, but at least he 
had been in action.

	Croft racked his brains for ideas, either for escape, or to get 
power back. But Levi had done a number of intensive experiments and 
found no way to get the power back. The only power that seemed to work 
was the chemical power produced by the human body, or fire. Anything 
more sophisticated seemed to be dampened immediately the moment it was 
created.

	As for escape, there was one possibility that had occurred to 
Croft. But the only place he might be able to escape to could be 
hostile, even lethal to him if he returned there again.

	And so he was stuck on Aridor. As the struggle for day-to-day 
survival receded and was taken up by the others, his attention and 
interest in the settlement flagged. It was therefore, a little more 
than a year and a half after his arrival, not surprising that he was 
surprised when the coup happened.

	A lot of little things had been building up. Like Croft, once the 
settlers realized they were going to survive they began aspiring for 
more. But there was nothing Levi could do for them. He gave his dry, 
technical reports three nights a week, which did nothing to inspire the 
settlers.

	That's where Goodmon came in. He knew that there was a gap that 
could be filled and he filled it. After a long period of public silence 
he started criticizing the administration of the settlement again. He 
kept asking why after all this time they didn't have proper beds, or 
better huts, or a greater variety of food to eat. Levi's answers were 
as dry and technical as Goodmon's questions were dramatic and 
inflammatory.

	Some of the former resistance leaders and guardsmen tried to warn 
Croft what was going on, but Croft was off in his own little depression 
and wasn't especially interested. Things might have gone on this way 
for some time had there not been a spark that ignited the discontent.

	That spark was later called "The Mindy Affair". No, Levi's wife 
didn't commit adultery with another settler; she did, however, manage 
to inflame a great number of them with her obsessive-compulsive drive 
for perfection and neatness. Was firewood not stacked properly? Then it 
must be all restacked. Was the food not seasoned to her liking? Then 
the cooks must endure a public tongue-lashing. Were the clothes weavers 
not weaving as she instructed? Then they must start over and also be 
publicly humiliated.

	Levi either couldn't or wouldn't rein in his wife, and over time 
she alienated a large number of settlers. People didn't think badly of 
Levi directly, but they knew that with one in charge they also got the 
other.

	And then one day Mindy went too far, and a government was toppled 
as a result. Mindy did a spot check of the food right before dinner; a 
stew was being served that night, a sign they were running out of food 
before the next harvest. But Mindy didn't think about that when she 
took a sip of the stew, spat it out, declared it unfit for human 
consumption, and ordered the entire batch thrown out and dinner 
restarted.

	Except that when the food stocks were checked and it was 
discovered that supplies were so tight that there simply wasn't enough 
to serve dinner twice (one of their staple crops had recently failed, 
cutting into their reserves), the settlers were forced to go without.

	So it was on empty stomachs that night and the distant sound of 
thunder that the settlers gathered for their nightly campfire. It was 
also unfortunate that this was one of the nights that Levi was supposed 
to come out and answer questions. All the questions were about the 
dinner they didn't have.

	"What are you doing about this?"

	"Do you understand how hungry we are?"

	"Your wife is out of control!"

	Levi didn't know what to say. In fact, he was speechless.

	Goodmon saw this opportunity and took it. "I notice some 
unhappiness in the crowd," said Goodmon. "Have you ever considered 
submitting to a vote of confidence?'

	"Vote of....?" said Levi numbly.

	"You have never stated how long your term of office is," said 
Goodmon. "How long is it?"

	"I, ah..."

	"In fact, you have never elaborated on the formal structure of 
your government. You've been elected Mayor, but we have no committees 
for food distribution, no committees on farming, no committees on 
supplies, and so on. When do you propose to set up a proper 
governmental administration?"

	"Ah..."

	"Perhaps if we had more experience at the helm of government, we 
could have more regularity in its administration."

	"Maybe you right," said Levi. At this point he was still numb by 
the attacks on Mindy and was hating his job more than ever. "Hold your 
vote," he said dismissively, waving a hand as he walked away from the 
campfire.

	A guardsman ran off to look for Croft.

	Goodmon looked startled but immediately took control of the 
agenda. "My friends, I believed what I said when I stated we needed to 
set up a formal structure in government. I think we need to-"

	Within 5 minutes he had them eating out of the palms of his hands 
with his promise of participatory government and more food, housing, 
and comforts. He did such a good job, in fact, that when he made the 
obligatory call for other candidates, no other hands were raised. 
Except one.

	"Yes?" said Goodmon, peering in the darkness to see who he was 
recognizing.

	It was Shakey Walbaum. "I nominate Quick."

	"What?" said Goodmon, as if he didn't follow. "Do I understand 
you wish to nominate a... Pomeranian... for Mayor?"

	"Yes," said Shakey. "He's a good supervisor, why not make him 
Mayor?"

	"Out of order," said Goodmon. "Only human beings can hold office. 
Do we have any other nominations?" He looked around quickly so he could 
close it up and get to the vote. He would be running unopposed, which 
was more than he had hoped for!

	But then Shakey raised his hand again and waved it so vigorously 
that Goodmon couldn't ignore him.

	"You can't nominate the dog," said Goodmon.

	"All right, then, I nominate myself," said Shakey.

	"You?" said Goodmon.

	"Yes, me," said Shakey. "I can be just as amusing as a 
politician. Only intentionally so."

	"All right," said Goodmon reluctantly. "Get up here and give your 
speech. But make it short, please."

	Shakey ambled up to the front of the campfire. "Folks, you may 
think a comedian, even the most famous comedian on August, won't make 
much of a leader. But if you elect me, I promise to do whatever Quick 
says."

	There was a wave of laughter in the audience.

	"Think about it! He's a dog, sure, but he's smart, smarter than 
many of us," said Shakey. "In my opinion, he's been unfairly 
disqualified, but I think he could do a better job of running this 
place than any politician! Elect me, and you get the dog too. My 
friends, whether we're four legged, or two legged, can't we all just 
get along-"

	"All right, Shakey," Goodmon interrupted.

	"But I'm not done!" Shakey said.

	"Yes you are. Are there any other candidacies?" He waited a half 
second. "No? Then let's get to the vote."

	They voted as they had the first time; each settler picked up a 
pebble, and cast it into one of two baskets in the front by the 
campfire. They formed a line leading up to the basket area, and Goodmon 
and his allies administered the voting. But when Quick got to the front 
of the line followed by Shakey, Goodmon shook his head. "It's a dog, 
Shakey. He can't vote either."

	"First you won't let him run for Mayor, and now you're taking 
away his right to vote," said Shakey. "What's next, are you going to 
lock him up in a kennel?"

	"Come on, Shakey."

	To his credit, Goodmon conducted an honest vote count; he never 
needed to do otherwise. He got 615 votes; but it wasn't entirely a 
wipeout; Shakey, the protest candidate, got 84 votes, which, historians 
later noted, was the highest vote count a dog had ever received for 
election to any office on August.

	By the time Croft was found and had returned to the campfire, it 
had all been settled.





Chapter 4: Rise of the Bureaucrats



	"The food ration has been cut again," muttered Catchbill, eyeing 
the smaller portion in his plate as he sat under the dim midday sun.

	"The Mayor says it's because of the bad weather," said Smiley, 
sitting down by them. "Them" consisted of Croft, Mongo, Catchbill, 
Levi, and several officers.

	"Weather not change," said Levi.

	"Then what is it?" said Catchbill. "Ever since the dog was 
demoted we've been harvesting less food."

	Quick had been relieved of his duties as farm foreanimal, and had 
been replaced with one of Goodmon's cronies. In fact, Goodmon's people 
held all the top jobs, which had formerly been held by an experienced 
cadre of military officers allied with Croft and Levi.

	"There have been fewer people working the farm," said Croft. 
"Namely, all of Goodmon's cronies."

	"I've seen them sitting around," said Major Rambus. "What are 
they doing all day?"

	"Legislating," Croft snorted. "We now have a committee on farm 
production which hasn't pushed a single plow, a committee on housing 
that hasn't lifted a single stone, committees on trash, environment, 
sanitation, supplies, organization, and, incredibly, a committee on 
committees."

	"What's that one do?" asked Lieutenant Pomiter.

	"Much the same as the others," said Croft.

	If Mayor Goodmon's administration wasn't accomplishing any 
visibly tangible goals, it at least was successful in providing evening 
entertainment.  Every evening the "committees" (usually composed only 
of a chairman), gave their updates. That night was no different.

	"-we haven't decided whether to go with the blue, or the brown," 
said Enrico Hardgep, Chairman of the Committee on Furnishings.

	"But when are you actually going to make us some furniture!" 
someone called out from the audience. "I'm tired of sitting on rocks."

	"Patience, patience," said Goodmon, who was chairing the 
evening's reports, as he always did. "First we must approve the design 
before construction can begin." He peered into the dim light created by 
the bonfire, noticed a hand. "Yes?"

	"How are you going to make furniture once you've actually settled 
on a design?" someone asked.

	"We, ah, are studying the issue," said Goodmon. "I believe the 
committee on mechanization is studying this-"

	"Instead of studying it, when are you actually going to get 
something done?" said the first voice.

	"I assure you we are working as fast as can be done. We cannot 
produce miracles," said Goodmon. 

	"What about the food?" another person cried.

	"What about it?" said Goodmon, getting tense.

	"Why have our rations been cut again?"

	"Well, that's a very complex issue," said Goodmon. "I have 
ordered the secretariat to begin an investigation-"

	"And why haven't we had meat in days?" This question came from 
Lazy Ted.

	"We are closely studying this issue," said Goodmon..

	"There's been meat all right," Croft whispered to General Arkik. 
"But it only goes to Goodmon and his men."	

	"-when the secretariat reports, we'll have more information on 
the food issue," said Goodmon.

	Lazy Ted opened his mouth to ask a followup.

	But Goodmon spoke first. "I think we've spent enough time on the, 
ah, supply issue. Does anyone have any questions on any other topic? 
Yes?"

	Shakey Walbaum, who had been sitting next to Lazy Ted, stood up. 
"I have a question."

	"Yes?"

	Shakey pointed to Lazy Ted. "Why don't you answer his question?"

	The audience roared with laughter.

	"I don't see why people put up with it," said Captain Kiley.

	"You really don't know?" said Croft.

	"Know what?" said Kiley.

	"Goodmon has built a solid base of support," said Croft. "All 
those people who aren't farming are working on those useless 
committees. About a third of us now work for his 'government'."

	"Yeah, but they're still not getting as much food."

	"Yeah, but they don't have to work anymore," said Croft. "He's 
bought domestic peace by letting people sit around all day doing 
whatever they want. Meanwhile those of us not on the favorites list 
still have to grind away to produce."

	"Parasites," Kiley muttered.

	"You mean government," Croft corrected him.

	Goodmon was very skilled at deflecting attention from the food 
situation. Whenever anyone would complain about the food or housing 
situation, he would deflect the topic and draw peoples' attention 
elsewhere.

	"What about the housing situation?" someone asked at an evening 
campfire session.

	"We are working to create new housing as rapidly as we can," said 
Goodmon.

	"Meanwhile nearly a quarter of us still have to sleep outside," 
said the complainer. Croft recognized him as one of the former 
guardsmen. "Why don't you divert some people from that mansion you're 
building?"

	Goodmon was building, had built, actually, a large stone house 
"for government administration", which, by the standards of their 
rustic community, was quite luxurious. The house had two large built in 
fireplaces, a soft straw floor, interior walls for privacy (an unheard 
of luxury), and the only roof on Aridor that was actually fully 
waterproof. In that large space that could fit 30 people Goodmon and a 
handful of aides "administered" the site. The building was never 
finished, it seemed, as Goodmon kept thinking of new improvements to 
add.

	"If you're referring to the government administration building, 
we need a central area to direct the development," said Goodmon. "You 
have to understand that we're building a government from the ground up. 
Why, we don't even have a name for our community. Do you realize that?"

	Everyone was silent, as if Goodmon had said something startling.

	"Yes! We've been laboring so long, lost in our struggle just to 
survive from day to day, and we don't even have a name for the gallant 
community we're building."

	People immediately started shouting names. Goodmon smiled. "Slow 
down, one at a time, one at a time! The study committee on Appellations 
will need to consider this."



	Goodmon actually milked this "controversy" for a week of night-
time gatherings before settling on a name: Gateway Village.

	"A brilliant piece of work, given that this is has always been 
the name for this part of Aridor," said Croft. "My only question is, 
why did it only take them a week to come up with it?"

	"I think that was the maximum amount of time that Goodmon thought 
he could milk out of it," said Yosemite Catchbill. "I can't wait to 
hear the new topic for tonight."

	"Does it bother you that we have all this talking but nothing 
actually gets done?" said Croft. "Our food supply is slowly declining, 
housing starts are moribund, and-"

	"And they've just eliminated the guard at the tube station," said 
General Arkik, hobbling over. 

	"What?" said Croft. 

	"They said it was unnecessary," said Arkik. "They've reassigned 
my men to farming."

	"Makes sense, given that no one else is farming," said Croft. 
"But totally idiotic, from every other perspective."

	"If everything's going so badly, why don't you do something about 
it?" said Catchbill.

	"What do you expect me to do?"

	"Take over," said Catchbill.

	"All right," said Croft. "I know how your mind works. You've been 
laying odds on this for weeks, haven't you?"

	"What do you mean?"

	"I've heard about your little pool; you have a running pool going 
to determine the date when I take over, don't you?"

	"Well, it's purely for entertainment purposes," said Catchbill.

	"Well, you can relax, because I have no intention of taking back 
the reins," said Croft. "I have no interest in running this madhouse 
again."

	Arkik cleared his throat. "Croft-"

	"General, I'm not an administrator, or a farmer," said Croft. 
"I'm a spy, an infiltrator."

	"But you agree with us that it's dangerous to leave the tube 
station unguarded," said Arkik.

	"Sure," said Croft.

	"Then why don't you at least talk with Goodmon about it?" said 
Arkik. 

	"Why don't you?" Croft countered.

	"He doesn't exactly hold the military in high esteem," said 
Arkik.

	"While he most certainly loves me," said Croft. He sighed, 
considering. The afternoon work shift was scheduled to start any 
minute, and if there was one thing Croft really hated, it was farm 
duty. Going to talk to Goodmon might delay that for a few minutes. "All 
right, all right," he said, heading off to "Government House".

	Workers were industriously working on a new addition to 
Government House when Croft arrived there. Croft walked through the 
doorway where he was immediately greeted at the entrance by Marzipan, 
Goodmon's executive secretary.

	"Halt!" said Marzipan. He was flanked by two goons who looked 
coldly at Croft.

	"Hey Pan-Man," said Croft, knowing Marzipan hated to be called 
that. "Is the G-man around?"

	Marzipan looked infuriated. "Mayor Goodmon is available by 
appointment only."

	"I'd like to make an appointment, then," said Croft. 

	Marzipan pretended to consult a non-existent piece of paper in 
front of him. "The Mayor's schedule is all booked up for the 
foreseeable future," he said, smiling sweetly.

	"In that case, I'll see him now," said Croft, moving forward.

	The two hefties moved to block his way.

	"Are you sure you want to do that?" said Croft softly.

	One of the guards reached out for him. Croft grabbed his arm and 
pulled the brute to the ground where he landed with a thud. As the 
second guard started to react, Croft introduced his foot to the guard's 
face. In a moment the second guard joined the first on the ground.

	But the first was still conscious, and trying to decide whether 
or not to get up.

	"If you get up, you're only going back down again," said Croft 
reasonably.

	The guard, thinking about it, slumped back down on the ground.

	"Smart move," said Croft.

	"What is this?" said Goodmon, emerging from another room.

	"This is 'Welcome to your afternoon', starring Clifford Croft," 
said Croft. "Now, can we talk, or are you here to watch round two?"

	Frowning, Goodmon motioned Croft into his office--an empty room 
with some homemade pillows on the ground.

	"Really, Mr. Croft, you must learn to conform to the standards of 
a civil society," said Goodmon, sitting down on a bunch of homemade 
pillows that had been roughly arranged into a chair.

	"I'm doing the best I can, Chief," said Croft. "But I didn't come 
to talk to you about my manners. I did come to talk with you about the 
guard at the tube station."

	"What about it?"

	"You've reassigned the guards posted there to farm duty."

	"Yes," said Goodmon. "We need to boost agricultural output."

	"At the extent of security?"

	"We haven't had any trouble from that area."

	"What about the scavengers from last week who broke into the food 
supplies?"

	"There was no evidence showing where they came from."

	"No evidence, except the fresh tracks leading to and from the 
tube station," said Croft.

	"We do have a night guard here at Gateway, Mr. Croft," said 
Goodmon.

	"Not good enough," said Croft. "We need the guards back at the 
tube exit."

	"Are you telling me what to do, Mr. Croft?" said Goodmon.

	"You're very astute," said Croft. Then another thought occurred 
to him. If he were going to push, why not go all the way? "And while 
we're at it, I'm relieving myself of farm duty."

	"You are?" said Goodmon, eyebrows raised.

	"I can do a lot more things than push a plow."

	"What would you do, Mr. Croft?" said Goodmon.

	"Gee, I don't know," said Croft. "Maybe you could appoint me head 
of your committee on spying."

	"We don't have a committee on spying."

	"Then your committee on pottery, or the committee on leaf 
counts," said Croft. "Bottom line is, I'm not doing any farming any 
more."

	"What an absolutist attitude," said Goodmon. "Where would we be 
if everyone like you refused to farm?"

	"You've granted exemptions to a third of the population, you 
should know," said Croft. "That's why the food supply is dropping."

	"We have adequate supplies," said Goodmon tensely. "But we cannot 
permit slackers in the community. If you or any guard refuses to work 
in the farm area, you will not eat."

	"You think so?" said Croft, leaning forward. "I helped topple the 
Slurian Union, and a half dozen other empires and tinpot dictators. Do 
you think you'd be any greater challenge?"

	"I refuse to be cowed," said Goodmon, biting his lip.

	"Good," said Croft. "Because I refuse to milk you." He got up and 
turned to go. "Always remember one thing: you're in charge because 
we're letting you be in charge. Do all the ridiculous things that you 
bureaucrats do. But I draw the line at putting this community in 
danger. If you get in my way on issues of security, you're out of 
here."

	Croft went immediately to the farmlands. 

	"You're late," said Tad Harshbarger, the "Secretary" of 
Agriculture.

	"Benesh! Pomiter!" said Croft. A pair of workers dropped their 
farming implements and trotted over.

	"Report to the tube station for watch duty. I'll set up a watch 
schedule and inform you of your place on it." 

	They nodded and left without saying a word. But not Harshbarger.

	"You can't do that."

	Croft raised an eyebrow. "Don't you really mean 'I couldn't have 
done that'?" He turned and left.

	The news passed around quickly. When Croft showed up for dinner 
the others were waiting for a showdown.

	"If they don't feed you, Croft, I'll let you watch me eat," 
Shakey Walbaum generously offered.

	"Thanks, Shakey, but I don't think it will come to that," said 
Croft grimly, as the food line slowly moved forward.

	When Croft got up to the serving position the server turned 
around to where Marzipan was standing. Marzipan gave a quick nod and 
Croft was served.

	"That wasn't so difficult," Croft commented as  he sat down with 
his portion on the ground.

	The real surprise came that night when Mayor Goodmon came out 
with a surprise announcement. He was appointing Croft to head a new 
committee on village security. If people's faces could have been seen 
in the dim firelight, there would have been a lot of stunned 
expressions visible.

	"No surprise, really," said Croft, sitting next to General Arkik. 
"What politicians cannot dominate, they lick up to. It's their nature."

	Arkik grunted. "What will you do with your free time?"

	"Sleep," said Croft.

	"And after that?" said Arkik.

	Croft considered. "Sleep some more."



	Croft's promotion wasn't the only surprise that night. Lazy Sil 
posed a question about the power situation. "When will we get power 
restored?"

	"We're working on it," said Goodmon.

	"How are you working on it?" Sil asked.

	"We, ah, have a theory," said Goodmon. "The power drain may not 
be a power drain like we thought."

	"This looks interesting," Arkik whispered to Croft.

	"What do you mean?" said Sil.

	"Well, whatever the Insects used on us may have only been an 
advanced form of EMP pulse," said Goodmon. "That is, it may have 
destroyed existing electronics, but not new ones."

	Levi audibly snorted in the audience.

	"In fact, I have Levi looking into that right now."

	Levi looked stunned.

	"Levi, can you test whether what we're dealing with is a one-time 
EMP pulse rather than a continual energy drain?"

	Levi scratched his head. "Suppose I could create a new circuit."

	"Now?" said Goodmon.

	Levi nodded. "Just need a few minutes. But already know results 
will find." He whistled, and Quick appeared out of nowhere. Levi 
quickly rattled off the names of several electrical components from the 
basement. "Got that?"

	Quick said, "Arf!' and headed off.

	Several minutes later Quick ran back, dragging a small bag 
designed for him in one paw.

	Levi took the bag from Quick, and thanked him with a quick pet on 
the head.

	"Can you do it?" Goodmon asked.

	Levi looked at the components in the dim firelight. He turned to 
Quick. "You brought X-4 component, not X-5 component."

	Croft wasn't very surprised; maybe Levi expecting too much, even 
from his supersmart dog. How could a dog understand electrical 
components anyway?

	"Arf!" said Quick.

	Levi looked at the component again in the dim light. "Oh, I 
sorry, my mistake, was right one." 

	Quick ruffed. Several dozen people gave Quick an odd stare.

	Levi hummed to himself for several minutes while Goodmon kept the 
discussion going. Finally, he looked up at Goodmon and caught his eye.

	"Ready?" said Goodmon. "What do we have here?"

	"Solar battery," said Levi.

	"Solar battery?"

	"With level monitor," said Levi, pointing to a dial. "Should 
register, even with firelight."

	He held the device towards the fire. Goodmon, looking over his 
shoulder yelled out, "The needle moved!"

	There was a loud murmur in the audience. Even Croft took notice.

	"So it was an EMP pulse," said Goodmon.

	"Wrong," said Levi, bursting his bubble. "These components of 
device that existed when mist hit. If EMP, would not work at all."

	"So what does it mean?" said Goodmon.

	"Device shows registration of energy, however minutely. Since 
device work, not problem of EMP, problem of energy drain," said Levi. 
"Energy drain almost immediate, but small amount stays long enough to 
be measured."

	"Oh," said Goodmon. "Well, that's still an important scientific 
discovery!" Obviously he was unaware that Levi had discovered this over 
a year ago on his own. "I trust your future research will be just as 
fruitful!"

	"But I-"

	"I'm putting you in charge of scientific development," said 
Goodmon.

	"But-"

	"We'll expect regular reports on your progress."

	"No-"

	"No question about it, you're the man for the job," said Goodmon. 
"How about it, crowd? Let's have a hand for Levi!"

	The audience started clapping, and Goodmon took this opportunity 
to put an arm around Levi.

	"He's trying to co-op Levi too," Croft noted. "I wonder if he 
would make a campaign appearance with the bug Queen if she proved to be 
popular too."



	Goodmon seemed to take a hands-off attitude towards Croft and 
Levi from that point on, with the exception of one incident, several 
days later. Croft first heard of it when he saw Levi arguing with 
Goodmon and Marzipan outside the entrance to Levi's basement lab.

	"No!" said Levi.

	"Arf!" said Quick, for emphasis.

	"But Levi, we need your space for government functions," said 
Goodmon.

	"Have your parties somewhere else," Levi snorted.

	A flash of anger passed through Goodmon's face, and then faded. 
"Levi, your basement is the only space shielded from the elements."

	"Which is why you want it," said Croft easily.

	Goodmon turned to Croft. "As the size of our government expands 
we need more space for administrative purposes."

	"You forget, the lab is filled with Levi's scientific equipment," 
said Croft. "What's Levi supposed to do, dump it all in the Kinneret?"

	"Why, no," said Goodmon. "I suppose we could dig a pit, for 
temporary storage, of course-"

	"Of course," said Croft. "Say, I just had a thought. Didn't you 
tell us a few nights ago that Levi was supposed to be working on a way 
to restore power?"

	"Well, yes-"

	"But how is he supposed to do that without his equipment?" said 
Croft.

	"Well-"

	"In fact, isn't Levi a member of your government? Isn't he a 
chairman of your scientific committee?"

	"That's true-"

	"Then the basement is already being used for government 
purposes," said Croft.

	"But-"

	"I'd hate to think what would happen the next time someone asked 
about the progress of the scientific division, and Levi was forced to 
report that you made him throw all his equipment into a pit." Croft 
stopped speaking, only looking meaningfully at Goodmon.

	Goodmon took a breath. "Perhaps you have a point." He put an arm 
around Levi's shoulder. "All right, Levi, keep up the work." He slowly 
walked away with Marzipan.

	"Hates it when he touches me," Levi muttered.

	"Don't take it personally," said Croft. "It's just the 
politician's touch."



	Trouble first arrived a few weeks later, in the form of some 
unwelcome visitors from the tube station. A steady stream of stragglers 
had arrived from Concord over the past few months, and Goodmon, in a 
rare burst of sanity, had continued with Croft's policy of giving them 
temporary shelter while sending them on their way.

	But the latest newcomers were clearly something different, a team 
of bandits. When they emerged from the tube station, the guards on 
duty, Corporal Dayton and Private Lance, didn't like the look of the 
scruffy arrivals, and noticed that unlike previous arrivals these were 
armed with sturdy clubs. Dayton ordered them to go on their way. That's 
when they attacked.

	Dayton and Lance were armed with spears, but they were 
outnumbered more than two to one. Things might have gone poorly if the 
call for reinforcements hadn't gone up. Quick, several hundred feet 
from the lookout point near the tube station, headed back to Gateway at 
a run. His presence there was no accident; when he had been relieved of 
his farming duties, Croft had persuaded Levi to have Quick perform 
regular patrols, especially around the tube exit, to use his eyes and 
foxy ears to be on the lookout for trouble.

	"Arf, arf arf!" said Quick, running up to Levi, who was standing 
on line for lunch.

	"What?" said Levi

	"Roah! Arf!" said Quick.

	"What is it?" said Croft.

	"Intruders," said Levi. He paused. "At least, I think so. Either 
that, or fleas."

	Croft locked eyes with several troopers, and they started off on 
the run.

	When they got there Lance was already down and Dayton, bleeding 
from the hip, was encircled by four nasty bandits. A fifth lay on the 
ground, unmoving.

	"Hey guys," yelled Croft.

	The bandits turned.

	"Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" said Croft. He 
pointed to the giant Sergeant Benesh, who was standing to his right.

	Two of the bandits turned and charged Croft and his men, while 
the other two turned back to Dayton.

	Things might have gone poorly for Dayton, if he hadn't gotten 
some immediate help from an unexpected quarter. 

	While parrying the thrust from one attacker, Dayton turned to see 
another attacker raise his club, about to swing... and then drop his 
club and scream at the top of his lungs.

	Looking down, Dayton saw Quick's mouth clamped down on the 
bandit's ankle. 

	The distraction was enough time for two of Croft's men to reach 
the scene, and they quickly overpowered both of Dayton's attackers.



	"What do we have here?" said Mayor Goodmon, eyeing the scruffy 
and now bloodied attackers.

	"Bandits," said Croft, who had appointed himself in charge of the 
guard that had brought them there. "Good thing we kept a watch on the 
tube exit, or else they would have been right on us."

	Goodmon ignored Croft's sarcasm. He turned to the bandit who 
seemed least battered.

	"You... who are you?"

	"I am Captain Norbo, of the Army of August," said the bandit.

	"Army of August?" said Goodmon.

	"Yes," said the bandit. "I'm a representative of the government 
on Concord."

	"Government?" said Goodmon. "I was under the impression that the 
situation on Concord was a bit, ah, fluid."

	"We have restored law and order to Concord," said Norbo. "We came 
here to do the same."

	"Tell that to Private Lance," said Croft. "He has a concussion 
and two broken ribs. Is that an example of your law and order?"

	"He rejected our authority."

	"How, ah, widespread is your government?" Goodmon asked.

	"We rule the entire continent of Concord," said Norbo.

	"Are you going to believe that?" said Croft.

	"Obviously he's the representative of some kind of organized 
regime," said Goodmon. "I recognize the language of statescraft when I 
hear it."

	"You would," Croft muttered under his breath.

	"What is it you exactly want?" said Goodmon.

	Norbo licked his lips, and looked calculatingly at Goodmon. "To 
establish peaceful relations. I am an ambassador of goodwill."

	"And do you use your clubs to spread your goodwill?" Croft asked.

	"Croft!" said Goodmon. He turned to Norbo. "I think we've had a 
misunderstanding here which has led to unnecessary conflict. Will you 
carry a message back to your government from me?"

	"A message?"

	"We have a civilization here, in Gateway Village, and we want 
peaceful relations with our brothers on Concord."

	"Oh, I'll carry your message," said Norbo, failing to resist a 
grin.

	"Good," said Goodmon. "One of my aides will direct you to a place 
where you can wash up and eat before you go." Norbo and his men were 
led out.

	"Are you absolutely crazy?" said Croft.

	Goodmon simply raised his eyebrows.

	"You know what he's going to do," said Croft.

	"No, but since you seem so certain, Mr. Croft, why don't you tell 
me," said Goodmon.

	"He's going to go back to his gang and tell them that there's 
good plundering to be had here," said Croft. "And next time we won't 
have five guys with clubs to deal with. Maybe we'll have 50, or 100."

	Goodmon shook his head. "You know, Mr. Croft, it never ceases to 
amaze me how you can assume the worst in people."

	"Well, what do you assume?"

	"I don't assume anything," said Goodmon. "But I think we should 
try to set off on the right foot before resorting to violence."

	"Violence? What do you think they're going to do once they've 
learned of our existence?"

	"What can they do?" said Goodmon. "There's over 50 miles of sea 
protecting us from hostile forces."

	"And then, of course, there's the underground tube."

	Goodmon snorted. "Mr. Croft, do you really think a large invading 
force is going to take the trouble to walk 50 miles in the cold, dark 
underwater tube just to get at our small community?"

	"Yes," said Croft.

	"I think you overestimate the risk," said Goodmon. He reached out 
to put an arm around Croft's shoulder.

	"No touching, please," said Croft, pulling back. "You're making a 
big mistake."

	Goodmon sighed. "What alternative is there? We can't simply kill 
them."

	"They were well on their way to doing that to Lance and Dayton 
when we arrived," said Croft. "You have several choices: kill them, 
chain them together and make them farm, lock them up-"

	"What humanist suggestions, Mr. Croft. Precipitated murder, 
slavery, or unjust confinement," said Goodmon. 

	"You're making a mistake," said Croft. He turned to go.

	He spent an hour rounding out the senior officers and discussing 
alternatives. But by the time they had decided and gone looking for the 
prisoners, they were too late.

	Norbo, fearing that Croft might have been able to change 
Goodmon's mind, had left with his fellow "ambassadors" the first chance 
he could. They had nearly an hour's head start, and were nowhere to be 
seen.

	"This is only going to mean trouble," Croft declared, when no 
sign of the bandits could be found anywhere.



Chapter 5:  The Daring Raid On Concord



	Croft and Arkik started an intensive training program for every 
guardsmen and former resistance fighter in Gateway. Every available 
military and resistance fighter was pulled off several of their farming 
shifts to prepare, and Croft made sure that all of them at least had 
spears. Goodmon was peeved, of course, but there was nothing he could 
do about it.

	"How long before we can expect another attack?" Arkik asked.

	"Say 4-5 days to get back, a day or two to prepare, and 4-5 more 
days to get back here," said Croft. "Just under two weeks before we can 
first expect an attack."

	"We should have pursued them," said Arkik.

	"In the tube? In the dark? That's a nasty place to fight, even if 
we could catch up to them," said Croft. "Besides even if we clobbered 
these guys, we would have been discovered sooner or later."

	"You're doing a fine job of rationalizing," said Arkik. "I think 
you're just tired of farming and want to shake things up."

	"That too," said Croft. He saw Mongo walking by, and snapped his 
fingers to get his attention. "Mongo!"

	"You wants to know when attack come," said Mongo.

	"Yes."

	"Mongo foresee your request," said Mongo.

	"And?"

	"Mongo not know," said Mongo, almost smugly.

	"Thanks," said Croft dryly. "Can you also foresee the next time I 
get angry with you and kick you in the behind?"

	"Uhhhh..." said Mongo, squealing as he ran away.

	"That wasn't very productive," Arkik remarked.

	"If there was anything imminent coming, he would tell us," said 
Croft.

	Arkik looked thoughtful. "How many lines of troops can walk in 
the tunnel at a time?"

	"Maybe four or five," said Croft.

	"And how many can come out of the tunnel at a time?"

	"One," said Croft. "You know that. There's only one ladder."

	"Then that's where we create the chokepoint," said Arkik.

	"We stab anyone who comes out of the tube?" Croft asked.

	"That could work," said Arkik.

	"What if it's not a bandit, like many who have come out of the 
tube."

	"We'll have to assume that as of now they'll take control of the 
other end," said Arkik. 

	Croft considered for a moment. "That's a reasonable assumption."



	It was actually 15 days before trouble started. It was just after 
nightfall, but Croft had thoughtfully ordered a bonfire to be 
maintained just outside the tube exit.

	A head popped up out of the hole in the ground. Then a figure 
pulled itself out. Then another, and another.

	Croft heard the sound of a birdcall. He made one back.

	A dozen troopers rushed up, armed with spears. A fight started by 
the tube exit. But this time Croft's people had the advantage of 
numbers, and they quickly prevented more people from climbing up the 
ladder and out of the hole. After a brief but bloody battle the advance 
guard was overpowered. Bandits attempted to climb out of the ladder but 
after one got kicked in the face they stopped their ascent. Two of 
Croft's men kept their spears pointed down the dark opening while the 
others guarded the captured bandits.

	"It would appear we've been successful," said Croft.

	"Successful against the first attack," said Arkik.

	"How are they going to get up that ladder?" Croft asked.

	"I don't know," said Arkik. "But I don't think they've come 50 
miles just to give up so easily."

	Arkik was right. It was actually less than an hour before the 
second attack began. The first they heard of it was a scream from one 
of their soldiers in the dark.

	Croft looked down at the troops standing at the bonfire by the 
tube exit. They looked startled, but there were no signs of enemies 
there.

	Then they heard another scream in the dark, away from the tube 
exit.

	"What's going on?" said someone.

	"They're coming from over there," said Croft, pointing to the 
darkness behind them.

	"How?"

	"We'll have to figure that out later," said Croft.

	Bandits came rushing out of the darkness. They were easy to 
identify now, as they carried torches. Croft's men rushed up to engage 
them.

	It was a quick, pitched battle. Someone stabbed out at Croft in 
the darkness. He felt rather than saw the blade as it skimmed against 
his side, and he instinctively reached out and stabbed with his spear. 
He felt some resistance and heard a scream.

	"Reform!" Croft heard Arkik say. Croft scrambled down into the 
clearing where the bonfire made it easier to see. Their attackers 
formed up on the other side of the clearing. There were a lot of them. 
They charged.

	Croft's men might have been overpowered, but fortunately he and 
Arkik had a secret weapon in reserve: archers.

	"Archers!" Arkik cried.

	There was a twanging of bows, and several of the bandits screamed 
as shafts suddenly protruded from their chests or arms.

	The battle was over several bloody minutes later. The bandits, 
not expecting such fierce resistance, fled into the darkness.

	"How?" said Pomiter, stumbling out of the darkness with a bloody 
cut on his forehead. "We had the exit covered."

	"Look," said Croft, turning one of the bandit bodies over with 
his foot.

	It was wet. They all were.

	They figured it out the following morning when they took a 
reinforced patrol to the beach at first light. There they could clearly 
see the tracks in the sand.

	"There must be some kind of inspection hatch, somewhere near the 
exit, in the tube itself," said Croft. "They walk all the way here, get 
out of the hatch, and swim the last few dozen feet."

	"That means we can't suppress them at any particular choke 
point," said General Arkik. 

	"That means we have to destroy the tunnel," said Croft grimly.



	"No," said Goodmon. "That's our only link to civilization."

	"So how do we do it?" said Croft. "Explosives?"

	"Have no," said Levi.

	"You cannot destroy it!" said Goodmon.

	"Of course," said Croft. "The inspection hatch. We'll simply 
leave that open."

	"How do they normally open it without flooding the tube?" Arkik 
asked.

	"They must use an airlock system," said Croft. "All we have to do 
is jam it."

	"No," said Goodmon.

	"Good, let's go," said Croft, heading for the exit.

	"Haven't you heard a word I've said?" said Goodmon.

	"'No, that's our only link to civilization, you cannot destroy 
it'," said Croft in an exaggerated monotone. "Oh, and I think you said 
No once more after that." His expression hardened. "That's a link to 
chaos, anarchy, and violence, not civilization," he said. Croft turned 
to Arkik and Levi. "Let's go."



	They took 20 of their best guardsmen with them for protection. 
There was no way of knowing if any of the bandits were still in the 
tube. They went down the ladder one by one, cautiously, with burly 
guardsmen leading the way.

	But the bandits were long gone.

	"So where is this inspection hatch?" 

	"Keep looking along walls," said Levi.  They walked slowly, the 
shadows of the torchlight bouncing off the tunnels, the only sound the 
drip drip of water. The dripping sound grew stronger as they walked.

	"There!" said Levi, pointing to the wall. He pointed to a hatch.

	Croft said, "Do you think it's safe to-" but stopped in 
midsentence as Levi hopped up and accessed the hatch. He disappeared 
from view as he slid it open and crawled in. 

	They waited a moment, and then two.

	"Levi?" said Croft.

	There was no response.

	"Levi!"

	They heard him wiggling out. He plopped out of the hatch and 
landed on his feet.

	"Here," said Levi.

	"Well?" said Croft.

	"Not work," said Levi. "Sealock with mechanical safeguards. 
Cannot have inner door and outer door open at same time."

	"Can we jam one of the doors open and then open the other one?"

	Levi shook his head. "Mechanical control; both doors tied to each 
other by gears. Will not work."

	"Well, then, what's the alternative?" Croft asked.

	Levi was silent for a moment. They all stood in semi darkness 
listening to the drip, drip of water. Then Levi said, "Explosive."

	"I thought we didn't have any explosive," said Croft.

	"I make," said Levi. "Use fertilizer, few other things."

	"Will explosives work with this power draining mist?"

	Levi shrugged. "In theory. Have to try to see."

	"How long will it take?" Croft asked.

	"If all goes well?" Levi shrugged. "A day, maybe two."

	It would take double that time for reinforcements to come through 
the tube. That would work.

	They returned to Aridor. 



	Three days later...

	"Levi, I thought you said it would be ready in two days!" said 
Croft.

	"I thought so too," said Levi. "Formula eluding me."

	"The formula?"

	"Know formula," said Levi. "Question of finding natural elements 
that can substitute."

	"Oh," said Croft. "So when will you be ready?"

	"When ready," said Levi.

	"That helps," said Croft.

	He walked the uncomfortably short walk to the seashore. The 
lodge, as well as the quarry and their settlement area, was built only 
a few hundred feet inland from the shore. That made them vulnerable.

	Groups of guardsmen were patrolling the shore. Even Quick pitched 
in, stopping to sniff the air periodically, as if he could smell the 
intruders even if they were underwater.

	Croft walked over to the officer in charge.

	"How's it going?" Croft asked Major Rambus.

	"We're patrolling several hundred feet north and south of the 
estimated position of the tube," said Rambus. "But we're spread pretty 
thinly."

	"Do the best you can," said Croft.

	Arkik walked over to him. "How's Levi doing?"

	"I just asked him that," said Croft.

	"And?"

	"When I know, I'll let you know," said Croft.

	Levi was actually ready two days later. He had the fertilizer 
"bomb" encased in a small box.

	"Nice," said Croft. "But how do you detonate it?" Standard 
electrical signals surely wouldn't work.

	Levi pointed to a string sticking out of the box. "Got a light?"

	"How quaint," said Croft.



	Levi said they should detonate the explosives against the outer 
door of the airlock. He said that the supporting wall of the tunnel 
would be thinnest there.

	As Croft walked with Levi and a support squad, Croft couldn't 
help but shiver. "I won't miss this dark, gloomy place."

	"Same here," said Lieutenant Pomiter.

	They reached the airlock, but as they stopped, the sounds of 
footsteps didn't stop with them. They saw the dim light of torches in 
the distance.

	"Levi, set the explosives, quickly," Croft snapped. "Guardsmen! 
Take up position."

	The guardsmen quickly formed up in two lines, each thrusting 
their spear forward. Levi climbed up and crawled into the airlock..

	"Levi, hurry," Croft muttered. He heard a shout, and then he saw 
figures running towards them in the distance. They had been spotted.

	"Levi!" said Croft more urgently.

	"Need torch to light fuse," said Levi.

	Time seemed to move in slow motion. Croft was moving to the hatch 
on the wall to hand Levi a torch, just as bandits rushed forward to 
attack the front lines. He ignored the sounds of combat and trusted the 
guardsmen to do their job and turned his back on the attackers to hand 
Levi the torch, fully aware that one thrown spear could impale him....

	Time speeded again as Croft turned, seeing the pitched battle 
before him. Seconds later Levi plopped out of the inspection hatch. 
There seemed to be an endless stream of attackers in front of them. But 
fortunately the width of the tunnel only permitted five of them to 
attack at any one time. Croft's men defended bravely, knowing they had 
to buy time.

	But now their job was almost done. "Pull back, pull back!" said 
Croft. The line of troops, still engaged in battle, slowly started to 
pull back. "Levi, how much time do we have?"

	Levi shrugged. "Maybe a minute, maybe-"

	At that moment there was a flash, and a powerful explosion sent 
them to the ground.

	The combatants were stunned on both sides for a moment, and then 
they all struggled to get up. The two armed camps faced each other for 
a moment, one wondering what had happened, the other wondering what 
hadn't.

	Croft turned and opened his mouth as if to say something to Levi, 
but at that moment there was a loud creaking sound, like a twisting of 
metal, and then a roar as a forceful wave of water blast out of the 
inspection hatch, pouring down on the ground between the combatants.

	Soldiers on both sides slipped and fell to the ground again.

	"Back to the ladder!" Croft yelled as he got to his feet and 
started to slog in increasingly deep water. The water was cold, as one 
might've expected, but that didn't make it any more pleasant.

	Most of the bandits were trapped behind the water surge but those 
in front, realizing that the ladder was the only way out, were 
following them. All thoughts of battle faded as everyone started for 
the ladder at a run, or as much of a run as one could muster with the 
water level being knee deep. Croft wondered if they would get to the 
ladder before the tunnel filled up. It had seemed like such a short 
distance away when they had walked it just a few minutes ago. 

	The water was at their chests by the time the first soldiers 
reached the exit. Croft was the fourth to get there and forced himself 
to summon his energy reserves as he climbed the ladder. Once he made it 
to the top he lay exhausted on the ground, feeling the warmth of the 
sun, like the other survivors did.

	Bandits and soldiers lay like that for several minutes, though 
Croft, not totally naïve, kept his weapon near and never closed his 
eyes. Finally, when he felt the strength to sit up, he went over to the 
ladder.

	The water was at the top of the ladder now. Obviously this end, 
so close to the inspection hatch, would fill up much more quickly than 
the other 99% of the tunnel, but the tunnel would be effectively 
unusable now.

	One of the bandits got up and started to get a shifty look in his 
eyes, as he made eye contact with the other bandits.

	Suddenly Croft heard an "arf arf!" and saw Quick and Lieutenant 
Pomiter, leading a fresh squad of guardsmen in the clearing. "Take them 
away," said Croft, as the troops detained the bandits.

	"Yes sir," said Pomiter, thinking Croft was speaking to him.

	"Arf!" Quick said, also thinking the same thing.



	"Well, that settles that," said Mayor Goodmon, looking satisfied 
with himself. "You've all done a fine job. I think someone's in line 
for a medal!" He started to think who it would be most politically 
expedient to award it to.

	"Hold it, Mr. Mayor," said Croft. "Before we start the awards 
ceremony, I should warn you that we're not out of the woods yet."

	"But... the tunnel is destroyed. We're safe," said Goodmon.

	"We've filled the tunnel with water, but that isn't the only way 
to get here," said Croft.

	"But... if not under the water, how can they cross?" Goodmon 
asked.

	"How about... ON the water?" said Croft.

	"How?"

	"Ever heard of a boat?" said Croft.

	"Of course," said Goodmon. "But there's no power."

	"Ever hear of oars? Or sails?"

	Goodmon looked at Croft as if he were mad. "You must be joking! 
Why, it must be more than 50 miles to Concord from here."

	"Historically, trips have been made hundreds or even thousands of 
miles on sailing ships," said Croft. "50 miles is not that big of a 
deal. Just think--if the wind is at their back, and they can do five, 
or say ten miles an hour, how long would it take a ship to get from 
there to here?"

	Goodmon stared dumbly at Croft.

	"Five hours, correct," said Croft. "So that's why we have to 
maintain a guard along the shoreline. General?"

	General Arkik stepped forward and unrolled a crude map. He 
indicated positions along the shoreline.

	"Is this really necessary?" said Goodmon. He peered more closely 
at the map. "And what are these dots further inland?"

	"Other guard positions," said Arkik.

	"If you're thinking of posting guards along the shore, why do you 
need them inland as well."

	Arkik bit his lip and tried mightily to prevent himself from 
saying something acerbic.

	"We barely have enough coverage to patrol a mile up and down the 
seashore here," said Croft. "But we don't have enough coverage to 
patrol over a thousand miles of seashore here along the west coast."

	"But this is the closest crossing point," said Goodmon. "Why 
would they land anywhere else?"

	"To get the element of surprise?" Croft hypothesized. "That's why 
we also want a ring of guards around the settlement in every direction. 
They won't be enough for large scale combat, but they'll be sufficient 
to warn us of approaching enemies."

	"Where are we going to get the manpower for your grandiose war 
plan?" said Goodmon. "Most of your guardsmen work on the farm."

	"That's why we're here," said Croft. "We need you to reassign 
people to farm work."

	"Who? From where?"

	"How about your 'government employees'?" said Croft.

	"You mean our legislature? Our executive branches?" said Goodmon. 
"Impossible! We're barely staffed enough to do our jobs as it is!"

	"Your 'jobs' seem to primarily consist of issuing reports at the 
nightly fireside chats," said Croft. "In case you're confused, this 
isn't a request. Come on, let's go, General." He turned to leave.

	"But... but... how will I explain it to the others?" Goodmon 
asked.

	Croft turned for a moment and got a thoughtful expression on his 
face. "You can just tell them that it's a political reform."





	It wasn't more than a month later that they encountered their 
first infiltrators. The bandits on the other side first sent a team in 
a small boat to scout the area out. They were caught, of course.

	Mayor Goodmon eyed the sullen captives. "I can't believe that 
these people would devote the resources to come over the sea to attack 
us."

	"They just did," said Croft. 

	"Why would they want to make the supreme effort to come here?" 
Goodmon asked. "Isn't it easier to prey on those on Concord?"

	"Remember the food shortage? Those on Concord probably have even 
less than we do," said Croft.

	"Is that why you're here? To raid us?" Goodmon asked the 
prisoners.

	"What do you expect them to say, that they're tourists?" said 
Croft. He turned to the guard. "Take them away."

	As they filed out Goodmon said, in a low voice, "I really wish 
you wouldn't countermand my orders in public."

	"Sorry," said Croft. "Perhaps we should hold our meetings in a 
more private venue."

	

	The first set of infiltrators were followed, at irregular 
intervals, by others, small bands of roaming bandits over the course of 
the next several months. They caught some of the bandits, at irregular 
intervals, but Croft was fairly certain they weren't catching them all. 
What were the others doing? A few had made isolated attacks; but most 
seemed content to spy. What kind of information were they gathering, 
and why?



	"There's only one way to find out," said Croft, meeting with his 
usual allies.

	"A trip to August," said General Arkik. "Who do you propose 
should go?"

	"I think we should send our best infiltrator," said Croft.

	"If you weren't one of the Agency Eight I'd say you were 
boasting," said Arkik. "Who do you want to take with you? Benesh? 
Pomiter? Rallyt?"

	"Smiley," mumbled a voice in the background.

	Though it was spoken softly, Croft quickly turned to find Mongo 
camped in a dark corner. "What was that?"

	"Nothing," said Mongo grumpily.

	"I thought you said to take Smiley," said Croft. "Is there any 
reason why I should take him? This is spying mission; what use would 
Smiley be?"

	"Smiley no use on spy mission," said Mongo.

	"So?" said Croft. His expression hardened.

	Mongo saw that he wasn't going to let it go with that. "Smiley 
only useful if the Croft does something foolish, as he frequently 
does."

	"What kind of 'something foolish'?" Croft asked.

	Mongo shrugged his boney arms. "Mongo not know."

	"Come on, spit it out," Arkik snapped.

	"His talent doesn't work like that," Croft sighed. "I only wish 
that it did."

	"Croft understands," said Mongo. "Very first show of sympathy, 
however slight."

	"But because Mongo can't be more specific, he's going to have to 
come with us," said Croft.

	Mongo looked horrified.

	"What?" said Arkik. "He's no good for this kind work."

	"He's precisely what I need for this kind of work," said Croft. 
"Mongo has done this before--predict danger in general without 
specifics. But that's not enough. He needs to be with us, closer to the 
time and place of the event, to tell us what will happen."

	"No!" said Mongo, shivering. "Nice Croft! Don't make poor Mongo 
go, no!"

	"Pack your bags," said Croft. "Now, does anyone know where I can 
find Smiley?"



	Smiley had no objection to going with Croft.

	"It could be dangerous, Smiley," said Croft.

	Smiley smiled.

	"But then, I've seen you hit at point blank range with a blaster 
and not get a scratch, so your personal safety probably doesn't concern 
you, does it?"

	Smiley shook his head, still smiling.

	"You, ah, don't want to tell me how you do that little trick, do 
you?"

	Smiley smiled.

	"I hope Mongo didn't only pick you for your conversational 
skills," Croft groaned.



	They took one of the small boats they had captured from the 
infiltrators. The infiltrators, those they had taken alive, no longer 
needed them. They had all been put to work on the farm. Those that 
failed to show sufficient enthusiasm were encouraged by Arkik's men. 
They slept at night under guard in a makeshift stockade. Croft was a 
little uneasy at the thought of having enemies in the camp, but letting 
them go, and giving them an opportunity to report back to their bosses 
on Concord, wasn't really an option. 

	They loaded the boat with enough provisions for a week. That 
should be more than enough, Croft thought, especially since Smiley 
didn't seem to need to eat. Oh, he could eat, but he never complained 
if he didn't. Nor did he appear to lose weight. Another mystery.

	The boat had a small sail, which Croft manned; he left the 
makeshift oars to Smiley. Mongo climbed into the forward section where 
he immediately curled up into a ball and closed his eyes. 

	Croft had allocated the work fairly. He knew that Smiley wouldn't 
object to rowing the boat all the way to Concord, all 50 miles across; 
so Croft lay back, pulling the small sail with a string. General Arkik 
and some of the other soldiers were there to give him a small sendoff.

	"Be careful, Croft," said Arkik. "Don't take any unnecessary 
risks."

	A small wind blew, and the boat started to float away from the 
beach.

	"Right," said Croft. "I'll only take the necessary ones. Row, 
Smiley."

	The shoreline started to recede, and in a few minutes the figures 
on the shoreline were distant dots.

	"I hope they can cope without us," Croft commented.

	Smiley said nothing.

	In a few hours the shoreline was out of sight. Croft, surrounded 
by sea in every direction, felt a bit of claustrophobia, despite the 
fact that there was open air in every direction. What use was open 
space if there was no place he could go? His only freedom of movement 
was a foot to his left, a foot to his right, a foot forward towards 
Mongo, or several feet backwards, towards Smiley. The slight rocking of 
the boat unnerved him. He tried to ignore it.

	Smiley unnerved him. It wasn't as if he feared Smiley, but he 
wondered about him. Smiley obviously wasn't fully human, if he was 
human at all. He didn't seem to need to eat or sleep, and seemed 
invulnerable to attack. But what was oddest about him was his attitude; 
he always had that dopey smile on his face, as if everything amused 
him. What was the story with Smiley?

	After several hours of traveling the clouds started to darken, 
and Croft found himself looking at Smiley.

	Smiley smiled.

	"Getting tired?"

	Smiley shook his head.

	"I'm guessing we must be more than halfway there." Steering had 
been relatively easy--all they needed to do was to go straight west, 
towards where the sun was travelling.

	Smiley smiled.

	"So what's the story with you, Smiley?"

	"The story?" said Smiley, giving a puzzled smile.

	"You," said Croft. "You don't seem to need to eat."

	"No."

	"Or sleep."

	"Also no."

	"And you seem invulnerable to weaponfire."

	Smiley grinned.

	"So what's it all about?" Croft asked.

	"All about?" Smiley smiled.

	"You don't seem quite human," said Croft. "What are you?"

	"I'm Smiley," Smiley said.

	"That's just what we call you," said Croft. "What's your real 
name?"

	The clouds continued to darken. Smiley didn't answer.

	"Where are you from?"

	Smiley didn't answer.

	"Can you tell me something of your past?" Croft asked.

	There was a cracking sound, one that Croft couldn't identify. He 
looked at Smiley, and for the first time, saw that he was no longer 
smiling.

	"I don't talk about that," said Smiley.

	And then he was smiling again like nothing had happened, and the 
sun even came out, dimly casting its rays through the dense energy mist 
in the atmosphere.



	They reached the shoreline by nightfall, which suited Croft fine. 
By landing at night they were less likely to be seen. They stashed the 
boat in a small alcove between two buildings. Mongo yawned and opened 
his eyes. "Got here," he said. "Now we can go home?"

	Croft looked around in the dim light. "I think we've done well," 
he whispered. "I think I recognize this area. We're no more than two or 
three miles north of Sarney."

	"Is that where we're going?" Smiley asked.

	Truthfully, Croft didn't know where they were going. His general 
idea was to locate the bandit base and do a little spying.

	They walked along the metal seawall, heading south. Dilapidated 
buildings jutted out along the sea. 

	They walked in silence for nearly an hour. Finally Smiley said, 
"How will you know when you've found what you're looking for?"

	Croft, looking ahead, merely pointed.

	Straight ahead was a swarm of activity around a series of docks. 
There were a number of smaller boats but what caught Croft's attention 
was one, large boat that was obviously in the final stages of 
construction. It consisted of large pieces of metal that was 
laboriously banged into shape by a team of blacksmiths, with a group of 
large sails ringing the middle. There were also spaces for oars on the 
side.

	Croft, Smiley, and Mongo walked by a bandit who was walking 
towards them. The bandit barely looked at them as they passed by. Croft 
would've been surprised if had; he and Smiley were wearing clothes 
appropriated from some of the infiltrators. The only thing that might 
give them away was Smiley's moronic smile, or perhaps Mongo's hunchback 
posture.

	They got closer to the boat. It looked ramshackle, but Croft, 
measuring the space with his eyes, figured it could easily fit 70 or 80 
people. This wasn't a two or three person rowboat. In a few trips it 
could carry several hundred people across.

	"You know what this means," Croft whispered.

	Smiley smiled. 

	"That's right, invasion," said Croft. He paused. "What do we do?"

	He looked at Smiley. Smiley said nothing.

	"Don't worry, I wasn't asking you," said Croft. He considered. 
The boat was too large to sink, even if he had explosives.  Croft had 
one small crude chemical grenade that Levi had prepared for him, but it 
wasn't powerful enough to destroy this ship. Well, if he couldn't 
destroy it, what did that leave?

	He looked at Mongo. Mongo shook his head.

	If he couldn't destroy the ship, maybe he could steal it. 

	Mongo hissed.

	It had undoubtedly taken them months to build that ship. If he 
could steal the ship, it would take them months to build another one.

	It was a nice plan. Except for the fact that even if he could 
operate the thing on his own (unlikely), it was even more unlikely that 
several dozen bandits would simply watch him and wave goodbye as he 
took it.

	"What if we steal it?" Croft asked, whispering to Mongo.

	Mongo shook his head. "Danger here. Must leave!"

	"What kind of danger?"

	But Mongo shook his head, and said nothing.

	What alternative was there? He could return to Aridor and get 
more help. They had a few boats now, maybe enough to bring a dozen 
guardsmen. Could a dozen guardsmen pull it off? More possible, but 
still less likely.

	And besides, it looked like the ship could launch at any time. It 
would take Croft a minimum of two days to return to Aridor, gather a 
strike force, and return here. The bandits might use the ship to launch 
their attack during that time.

	The key element, then, was to try to find out when the attack was 
planned for. Perhaps if he snooped around more closely....

	Croft and Smiley, trailed by Mongo at a short distance, walked 
inland into the heart of the bandit camp. There were several hundred 
bandits here, a group so large that the addition of three more didn't 
raise any eyebrows. No one paid them the slightest attention as they 
joined a line for food....

	As they sat down for dinner by a large campfire, Croft was forced 
to admit that this situation bore some uncanny similarities to life at 
Gateway. Of course, the people he sat with there weren't cutthroats and 
bandits. And the evening entertainment was different too. 

	There was a stage that was illuminated by a ring of fires. A 
familiar figure, flanked by bodyguards, stepped out on stage, to a roar 
of shouts and yells.

	Croft stood up. He recognized that person.

	It was Wild Tony.

	Or maybe he should be called Fat Tony. Croft noted that during 
this time of scarcity Tony, incredibly, now sported a large belly. He, 
evidently, had been eating quite well. 

	"Aren't we enjoying ourselves!" Wild Tony roared.

	The bandits in the audience roared in response.

	"Dinner was especially good tonight," Tony said. "Let's give 
everyone a warm thanks to the settlement north of here that donated 
their food for us!" That got a strong laugh.

	"We also have a lot more to celebrate. Our ship is almost ready. 
We are almost ready to take the battle to the Easterners!" He roared, 
and his belly flopped. "The Easterners won't be able to resist us, 
especially with the help of our new ally!"

	And then a group of men emerged from the other end of the stage, 
another leader flanked by bodyguards, and when this new leader got 
close to the firelight, Mongo couldn't help but gasp.

	He had a blue beard.

	Blue Beard.



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

20 years earlier, during the Insect occupation, Mongo had been enslaved 
by a group of opportunistic bandits who had nearly worked him to death. 
One of the cruelest guards had been a giant called Blue Beard.

	Mongo remembered the giant almost suffocating him with a mighty 
boot on his throat. He remembered all the kicks, punches and attacks 
when he didn't move quickly enough to obey. And above all he remembered 
the taste of the electrowhip.

	And there, standing before him now, was his old tormentor, now 
the head of a large gang of bandits.

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



	Mongo squealed. One of the bandits turned to look his way. Croft 
smacked Mongo on the head. "Don't be a weakling," he snarled. 

	The bandit laughed and looked away.

	Croft moved closer to Mongo. "What is it?"

	"You hit Mongo."

	"I know, was it as good for you as it was for me?" Croft asked. 
His arm clamped down on Mongo's wrist. "Now talk."

	"Blue Beard," said Mongo. "He tortured poor Mongo. Was slave, 
with-"

	"With me," said Smiley. "Yes, I recognize him too. Do you think 
we should go over and say hello?"

	"This is looking worse and worse all the time," Croft whispered. 
"An alliance between two gangs and a large ship spells trouble for us. 
We have to do something."

	"If you say so," said Smiley moronically.

	"We have to steal the-"

	Croft was cut off in midsentence by someone hitting a loud gong.

	Four prisoners with their hands tied behind their backs were 
pushed onto the stage.

	"The evening entertainment," Croft whispered. "Why do I get the 
feeling this is going to be worse than one of Goodmon's speeches?"

	It was even more worse than Croft feared. As the prisoners were 
pushed into the light, he had to restrain himself from shouting out.

	"No..." he whispered.

	For he clearly recognized one of the prisoners.

	Preston.

	Agency operative Jeffrey B. Preston! He had been one of Croft's 
closest associates in the Agency, back when the Agency still existed. 
They had worked together for literally hundreds of years. Croft thought 
Preston had been killed years ago by the Insects during the occupation. 
They had gotten separated during an Insect ambush and Croft had heard 
that Preston had been shot.

	Was that really him? Croft squinted in the poor light. The face 
was a little older, wearier, and dust encrusted, but it certainly 
looked like Preston.



	"We'll have the entertainment ready for you in just a few 
moments," said Wild Tony. "Some of the men have to finish sharpening up 
their spears!" That was received by wild laughter.

	Croft knew that he couldn't just sit there and watch his friend 
die. He turned to Mongo. "Can I rescue him?"

	Mongo shook his head. "Certain death for both of you."

	Croft, uncharacteristically emotional, grabbed Mongo by the 
collar of his shirt. "There must be a possibility."

	Mongo gave an almost silent squeak as Croft went eyeball to 
eyeball with him. But then his gaze turned, ever so briefly to the 
right.

	Croft turned as well, to see Smiley smiling idiotically at him.

	"Smiley?" Croft whispered. "That's why you had me bring Smiley?"

	"Knew you always do foolish, dangerous things, yes," said Mongo.

	"So if I use Smiley..."

	"Possible survival," said Mongo. "And no, Mongo not know odds. 
But if must rescue Preston, no other way. Mongo go now." He started to 
get up.

	"Where are you going?" Croft whispered.

	"To wait for you at big boat," Mongo whispered back.

	"How did you know... wait, for you, this has already happened, 
right?" said Croft.

	Mongo yawned. "Present is boring. Already happened in several 
ways. Curious to see which way will become reality, but really more 
focused on several days from now, on the not-happened-yet." He got up 
and left. 

	Croft turned to Smiley. "Smiley, I need your help. But it may 
entail some personal risk. Even you might not get out of this one."

	Smiley grinned. "What do you want me to do, my friend?"



	A few minutes later, Wild Tony yelled, "And here they come!" as 
several men with spears came onto the stage. They circled the four 
prisoners, whose hands were still tied behind their backs. The bandits 
raised their spears, and...

	There was an explosion on the other side of the stage as the 
small grenade that Smiley threw into the air detonated. It was a more 
advanced version of the explosives that Levi had used to destroy the 
underwater tube, detonated by a hand activator after a small delay. The 
sound of the explosion immediately turned everyone's attention to 
Smiley.

	"This isn't very fair," said Smiley. "Why don't we do something 
more sociable, like a singalong?"

	One of the bandits on stage snarled and charged Smiley with his 
spear. Smiley nonchalantly grabbed it as if he were plucking a paper 
spaceship out of the air, sending the ruffian sprawling. The audience 
started to laugh.

	"Why can't we be friends?" said Smiley. "I'd bet we'd have more 
fun baking a cake together."

	Three more ruffians raised their spear to charge. Smiley said, "I 
know what you want, my friends." 

	The three charged. Smiley dodged two of the spears, but the third 
impaled him. 

	There was a hushed silence for a moment as the audience waited 
for Smiley to die.

	Smiley looked down at his midsection where the long spear impaled 
him.

	And then.... And then and he grinned. He simply grinned! He 
slowly pulled the spear out of himself as if removing a toothpick from 
a bowl of jello, and handed the spear back to the stunned bandit. "I 
think you dropped this, my friend," he said.

	By now all attention was focused on Smiley, and no one noticed 
Croft sneaking onto the other side of the stage where he hit the last 
ruffian from behind and motioned for the prisoners to follow him to the 
area behind the stage. It wasn't until the last prisoner was leaving 
from behind the stage that someone gave a startled yell.

	Wild Tony caught on quickly. "Don't let them escape!" he yelled, 
his belly rippling.

	"Hurry!" Croft hissed at the prisoners. 

	They had an advantage in that it was dark, and once they moved 
away from the stage they were harder to find, but there were a lot of 
bandits and they only had a thirty seconds advantage.

	Teams of bandits carrying torches roamed throughout the area. A 
group of them almost bumped into another team of five bandits who were 
dressed just like them but heading the other way.

	One of the five bandits spoke to the leader of the small group 
when the other bandits had passed. "It really is you, Croft," said 
Preston. "Thanks for these outfits. But how..."

	"Explanations later," said Croft. "We have to get to the docks. 
Walk quickly, and ignore any challenge."

	They headed for the docks. In the confusion the roaming teams of 
bandits were spread out in all directions. So only a skeleton guard was 
on duty at the docks, five men, one of whom was arguing with a small, 
bony bandit standing in front of him.

	"What do you mean, you want me to stand a little to my left?" the 
bandit said.

	"Just to do it, you'll see!" said the hunched over bandit. The 
other bandits on guard duty laughed at this insane creature.

	"This is ridiculous," said the bandit leader, taking a step to 
his left, just in time to receive a spear in his stomach.

	"Right on time," Mongo cackled, as Croft and the prisoners ran 
past him to engage the four other guards. 

	The prisoners were tired, but the odds were more than even. They 
had Croft, the master of dirty fighting, on their side. Croft knocked 
out one of the guards quickly and clipped a second before Preston and 
his fellow prisoners could get rid of the other two.

	But the sounds of combat were attracting unwanted attention.

	"There!" someone cried in the darkness. A line of torches could 
be seen coming towards the docks.

	"Come on!" said Croft, running for the big boat. They could more 
easily escape in one of the many smaller boats docked there, but they 
still had a mission to complete.

	As they climbed onto the board Croft barely paused to throw a 
bandit into the water. "Cut the mooring lines!" he screamed. The line 
of torches were on the dock now, moving towards them.

	The prisoners quickly cut the lines.

	"Now row, row for your lives!" Croft screamed. Two prisoners went 
to each side of the large galley and picked up two oars. They dipped 
them into the water and pushed.

	Nothing happened.

	The line of torches were almost at the ship. Croft moved to the 
edge of the ship closest to the dock and hefted his spear. The first 
line of torches were just a few dozen feet away.

	"Row!" he screamed again. "Row for your freedom! Row for your 
lives!"

	Four pairs of oars dipped into the water again, and either it was 
Croft's imagination, or the ship actually moved a few inches.

	"Again!" said Croft.

	He could actually see faces now and in seconds the first of the 
bandits was on him. Croft jabbed out, sending the first bandit back, 
and then twirling the spear, like a quarterstaff, sent the other end 
crashing into the skull of another bandit.

	But bandits were being replaced more quickly than he could knock 
them out. In a few seconds he found himself attacked by three and then 
four bandits. One of them sliced into his arm, pushing him back. Croft 
started to retreat further into the boat and steeled himself to give 
the order to abandon ship. They could swim for the shore and try to 
escape. If only he hadn't been greedy enough to try to take the big 
ship they might've-

	Suddenly a bandit behind the first wave of attackers flew through 
the air and landed on one of Croft's attackers, squashing him. Then 
another bandit from the rear echelons flew through the air, landing on 
another attacker. Someone was using bandits as artillery against the 
other bandits.

	As a path was quickly cleared to the front of the bandit lines 
Croft saw none other than Smiley, lifting bandits and hefting them as 
if they were little more than Type 94 grapefruits. As he reached the 
front lines his aim changed direction as he tossed bandits behind him, 
over his shoulder. As he got close Croft saw that Smiley was impaled in 
several places with spears, making him look a little like a porcupine.

	The boat, which had been steadily but slowly moving forward, 
cleared the last of the dock at that moment, and the bandits were 
reduced to throwing spears. Croft judiciously took cover behind Smiley.

	A spear went "thunk!" into the side of Smiley's head. Smiley, 
grinning, pulled it out, without even a drop of blood showing.

	"Doesn't that hurt?" Croft asked.

	"They're not very friendly, don't you think?" Smiley said.

	Once they were out of spear range Croft ran to the sails and 
unfurled them, something he had been prevented from doing by their 
pursuers. A wind was blowing at their backs, but the breeze was 
sporadic. Nonetheless the ship started to pick up speed.

	Mongo paddled over. "So, you made it again," said Mongo. "Never 
thank Mongo, no..."

	"Thank you, Mongo," said Croft.

	But Mongo, suddenly getting an odd look on his face, said, "Not 
over. Must hurry."

	"What do you mean?" said Croft.

	Suddenly he heard a shout and one of the prisoners stumbled 
forward, a spear protruding from his gut.

	And then a bandit came out from behind the sails, and then 
another, and another, and Croft was fighting for his life again.

	Smiley tossed one overboard with a splash, and then another, and 
Croft dispatched the third. Croft rushed to the other side of the boat 
to find Preston and the other two prisoners fighting with another 
bandit, and Croft, not in a generous mood, speared him from behind.

	"Where did they come from?" Preston asked.

	Croft ran to the side of the ship, and looked out at the gloom. 
They were already some distance from shore, but in the distance they 
could see the feeble torches from small boats. They must have been 
boarded.

	"Row!" said Croft, bending down to check on the speared prisoner. 
He was dead.

	They rowed for several minutes, and Croft tried his best to 
adjust the sails while keeping an eye out for other boarders in all 
directions. Finally, after the dots of torch lights from other boats 
had receded into the distance, and there was no more sign of pursuit, 
he allowed himself to breath easy.

	"Well, it looks like we made it," said Croft.

	"We're exhausted, can we take a break?" said Preston.

	Croft nodded. "For a few minutes, anyway."

	Croft quickly caught up with Preston. "I thought you were dead."	

	"I'm not so easy to kill, you should know better than that," said 
Preston. "I was captured by the bugs and sent to a labor camp. I spent 
most of the rest of the war in luxurious accommodations," he grimaced. 
"I managed to escape just before the end to give the bugs a bit of 
payback. If even a fraction of the things I heard about you were true, 
then you've done some amazing work."

	"Well, I liked to keep busy," said Croft modestly. "Have you seen 
any of the others from the Agency?"

	"No," said Preston.

	"What's the situation like on Aridor?"

	"There are gangs roaming everywhere. There are pockets of 
military control, but the food crisis has created anarchy," said 
Preston. "The reduction in the sunlight reduces the amount of crops 
that can be grown, meaning a lot of people are going hungry. Combine 
that with the total loss of power and you have a real mess." 

	Croft nodded. He didn't ask for any more specifics of what 
Preston had been through. There would more than enough time for that 
later. He just counted himself lucky that he had escaped.

	Smiley came up to Croft and grinned.

	"What are you smiling at?" said Croft. He noticed that Smiley had 
pulled all the spears out of his body. Though there were gaping holes 
in his clothes, there wasn't even a sign of a scratch on Smiley.

	"Haven't you forgotten something?" Smiley grinned.

	"What do you mean?" said Croft, tired but quickly becoming alert 
again.

	"Haven't you forgotten something?" Smiley said again.

	Croft looked around, as if something was missing. Then he ran 
from one end of the boat, and then the other.

	"What's wrong?" said Preston.

	"Mongo," said Croft. "Have you seen him?"



	It took Croft only a few seconds to realize what had happened. 
When the boat, or boats, had boarded the ship, some of the bandits had 
grabbed Mongo while the others had attacked. 

	There was no way to know where Mongo was at the moment, no way to 
find him in this darkness and rescue him, if indeed he was still alive.

	Croft was silent for the entire trip back to Aridor.



	Mayor Goodmon proclaimed a day of holiday when he saw the ship 
and learned what Croft had accomplished. But Croft's grim expression 
unnerved him.

	"What's wrong? You've just ensured the safety of our community!" 
said Goodmon.

	"I've bought us some time until they can build a new boat," said 
Croft. "Perhaps a few months."

	"Do you really think they'll try again?" said Goodmon.

	"It's certainly a possibility," said Croft. "But you're 
forgetting a more immediate problem. What about Mongo?"

	"Your, ah, gangly friend?" said Goodmon. "I'm sorry for his loss, 
but this certainly was a high-risk mission...."

	"That's not what I mean," said Croft. "Mongo has, shall we say, 
special skills."

	"Can you be more specific?" said Goodmon.

	"I'm afraid you don't have the clearance," said Croft. "Let's 
just say that if they use Mongo's skills against us, they can conquer 
us with little or no effort."

	"That little bony man! What can he do against us?" said Goodmon.

	"I hope you never find out," said Croft. He left Government House 
and headed over to a clearing where Levi, Quick, General Arkik, and 
some other senior officers were meeting.

	"We have to get Mongo back, at whatever the cost," said Croft.

	"We don't even know if the creature is still alive," said General 
Arkik.

	"We can't take the chance that he's not," said Croft. "You know 
too well what he can do. If they get him to work for them, he can 
simply pick the probable future where they defeat us."

	"If he can see futures, how did he get captured in the first 
place?" Captain Kiley asked.

	"I forced him to come," said Croft. "There are some situations 
where there isn't always a win-win outcome. Mongo tried the best he 
could, but even he can't always try to make the best outcome come 
about. And he did warn me," he said, looking distinctly unhappy.

	"He's sure to be held under tight security," said Major Rambus. 
"How many of us should come with you?"

	"None," said Croft. "I'll go alone.

	"What?" said General Arkik. "Don't be a fool, Croft."

	Croft stood up. He spoke quietly. "I'm not a fool, General. I'm 
one of the Agency Eight. Do you know what that means?" He cast a sharp 
glance at Arkik.

	Arkik nodded.

	Croft continued. "As far as I know, I'm the only one still alive. 
I've infiltrated places you've never even dreamed could be broken into. 
No offense, but none of you have the necessary skill that's needed. I 
have to go alone." He paused. "If I don't return, don't send anyone 
after me. It will simply be a waste of manpower. My parting advice to 
you would be to increase the patrols along the water, and start 
scouting out new areas to settle farther inland."

	"You make it sound like maybe not coming back," said Levi.

	Croft gave no response, but slowly walked west, towards the 
shoreline...



	"Aaaaagh!" Mongo screamed, as the rope bit into his ankle and 
tugged cruelly at him. He was tied down to a table, with ropes pulling 
his body in all directions.

	"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were in pain," Wild Tony 
chuckled. "But fortunately I do know better."

	A tall, hulking man entered the room, and Mongo's eyes widened as 
he saw who it was.

	"Glad to see me?" Blue Beard yelled, swinging a giant fist into 
Mongo's gut. Mongo screamed.

	"As you can see, I do remember you," said Blue Beard. "It wasn't 
until later that I heard rumors about what you can do that I figured 
out what you had done to me. I've waited a long time for payback." He 
swung a beefy fist again and Mongo screamed even louder.

	"I don't want to hurt you," said Wild Tony. "But I need your 
cooperation if I'm to protect you."

	"Cooperation?" said Mongo. "What want?"

	Wild Tony wet his lips. "I'm still a bit skeptical of your 
supposed skills. But I could be convinced. Describe for me how we could 
successfully attack the Easterners."

	Mongo wet his lips. "Attack?"

	Wild Tony said, "Give us an attack plan! One that will ensure our 
victory."

	"Mongo can't think!" said Mongo wildly. "You hurt Mongo, Mongo in 
pain, can't think when in pain!"

	Wild Tony considered. He glared coldly at Mongo for a moment. 
Then he spoke. "I think you're stalling," said Wild Tony. "I think I 
need to let you spend some quality time with Blue Beard."

	"No! Noooooo!" Mongo screamed. Blue Beard gave a happy grin as he 
smacked his fists together.

	Wild Tony headed for the door. "Try not to kill the creature, but 
I won't fault you if you get overenthusiastic..." He made eye contact 
with Blue Beard to make his meaning clear.

	"No!" Mongo screamed again. "Croft! Croft! Help!"

	Wild Tony chuckled. "Do you really think that's going to help?"

	There was a sound like crumpled laundry dropping to the ground 
from behind him, and then a new voice said, "It might."

	Wild Tony turned, speechless, to see Clifford Croft standing in 
the door, in front of the body of one of his men.

	"How did you get in here?" Blue Beard growled. "My men-"

	"A little misdirection. A little violence. A little of this, a 
little of that," said Croft. His voice hardened. "My name is Clifford 
Croft. I brought down the Slurian Union. I repelled the Bug Invasion. 
And now I've come for you."

	Blue Beard roared and charged Croft, waving a club. Wild Tony, 
seeing that Croft was distracted, whipped out a knife and thrust it at 
Croft. Croft ducked aside from the club and wacked Wild Tony on the 
head with the blunt end of the spear. Wild Tony went down.

	Blue Beard raised his club again.

	"Right!" Croft heard a squeaky voice say.

	Without looking Croft dodged to the right as Blue Beard swung. 
Crof pivoted to the side, landing a karate chop to the back of Blue 
Beard's neck. Blue Beard collapsed with a thump to the ground.

	Croft, realizing he was breathing heavily, slowly walked forward 
to Mongo. "I thought you couldn't think when you were in pain," he 
said, starting to loosen the bonds.

	Mongo squealed as he was released. "So, Croft remember Mongo! Is 
a first time-"

	"I came back and risked my life, just to bring you back. That 
should mean something, even to you," said Croft. He eyed the bodies. 
Blue Beard wasn't moving, but Wild Tony was grabbing his head and 
slowly sitting up.

	"That one might be useful," said Croft. He pulled Tony up, 
casually disarming him as the bandit reached for another knife. "Get 
up, fats."

	Tony grumbled, glaring at him. "You won't get out of here alive."

	"Then neither will you," said Croft simply, putting one of Tony's 
knives to his throat. He turned to Mongo, who was stalking Blue Beard 
with Tony's other knife. "Mongo, coming?"

	Mongo said, "What about him?" indicating the fallen form of Blue 
Beard.

	"He's napping. We don't have time to double date," said Croft. 

	"We should kill him," said Mongo, glaring at his fallen enemy. 
Weeks of physical pain and torture flashed before his eyes.

	"Will killing him eliminate his gang?" said Croft. "They'll just 
chose another leader. There's nothing so special about this one."

	"Croft usually more practical than that," said Mongo, scowling.

	"Maybe because I don't like killing in cold blood," said Croft. 
"If you want to kill him, then kill him. But either way we've got to 
get going."

	Mongo scowled again, bouncing up and down on each foot, 
considering. Then he bent down, and swish-swished with the knife.

	He was like that for a full minute. Mongo finally stood up and 
said, "Ready." When he moved away Croft could see the fallen form of 
Blue Beard.

	Without the Beard. Instead, he had abraded and cut skin where 
Mongo had abruptly shaved him.

	"Well, that will cause him to lose face," Croft muttered.

	They left the compound, Wild Tony walking first, followed by 
Croft and Mongo. Croft kept a knife at Tony's back.

	"One false move, fats, and you'll be instant shishkabob," Croft 
advised.

	They walked through the center of the bandit camp. Some people 
gave them curious looks but Croft ignored them, quietly directly Tony 
to keep walking north.

	One of Tony's lieutenants, sensing something was odd, approached 
with two of his men. "Sir," he began.

	Tony glared at them, then moved his eyes to meaningfully glance 
behind him.

	The bandits raised their spears, a whole courtyard full of 
reinforcements were alerted, and Croft brought the knife to Tony's 
throat. "Get back!" he yelled.

	The bandits took a step back.

	"Now, drop your weapons!"

	The bandits did nothing.

	Croft dug the blade into Tony's neck. "Tell them!"

	"Drop your weapons!" yelled Tony hoarsely.

	They dropped their weapons,

	"Now, stand on one leg!"

	The bandits looked puzzled, but complied when Tony repeated the 
command.

	Croft whispered the next command to Tony, who obediently 
repeated, "Now, hop up and down on one leg."

	Mongo looked puzzled at Croft as a platoon of bandits, after some 
reluctance, started hopping up and down on one leg.

	"Now make boop-boop sounds!"

	The bandits grimaced and looked skeptical, and it took another 
coerced command to get them to comply.

	Slowly, one by one, the bandits, still jumping up and down on one 
leg, started to yell "Boop! Boop! Boop! Boop!"

	Croft laughed. "I've always wanted to see that," said Croft. "Now 
keep hopping and booping until we're gone. If I see anyone pursuing us 
on two legs, Fat Tony gets it!"

	They retreated down an alley, leaving the hopping bandits behind 
them. But it wasn't long before they heard the sounds of pursuit.

	"Quick, into the underground!" said Croft. He knew the 
underground around Sarney almost better than anyone.

	They made their way into the underground. As they ran from their 
pursuers, Croft guided them towards a specific destination.

	The secret entrance into Sarney Sarittenden, the palace itself.

	The last time Croft had used it was to infiltrate the Insect base 
there, years ago. It almost felt like another lifetime ago. But now 
they would use the entrance to evade their pursuers. But first things 
first: they had to get rid of Fat Tony. Croft had no intention of 
showing him the secret entrance.

	They paused in an empty room underground.

	"So, what shall we do with you?" Croft asked.

	Tony glared at him. "If you kill me, my men will-"

	"They'll elect a new leader, I know," said Croft, aware that Tony 
was about to say something completely different. Croft paused, 
considering. "If I let you go, what will you do?"

	"Build another fleet and take you all as slaves," said Tony.

	"Eeeeer!" said Croft, imitating a buzzer as he slammed Tony on 
the head with the side of his spear. "Wrong answer." He considered. 
"Let me plant a thought in your head. It's possible, maybe, that 
someday you could overrun the settlement on Gateway. But if you do, be 
assured that I'll get away. And when I do, I'll find you. You've seen 
how easily I can get to you."

	He paused, to let that sink in. Tony, sweating, nodded.

	"So if you attack us, I will come back and kill you," said Croft. 
"That's a promise. No amount of security measures or bodyguards will 
protect you. What do you say to that."

	Wild Tony wet his lips. "Perhaps... we can concentrate our 
activities on Concord."

	"A pragmatist!" said Croft. "I always knew you were a moderate. 
We'll see how long you stay resolved. Just remember, I'll always be 
around, and if you break your little promise, I will come back for you, 
my fatty friend." He put his face close to Wild Tony. "Don't forget 
it," he said.

	Tony nodded.

	"Good!" said Croft, drawing back. He looked around on the ground, 
noticing some cable. He picked it up, and started to tie up Wild Tony. 
"You'll be able to get out of this in a few hours, with more than 
enough time to get back to compliment Blue Beard on his close shave."



	An hour later Croft and Mongo slipped into the Palace. The hiding 
place was exactly where Croft had remembered it and they entered 
without incident. Croft's intention was to slip out of the east exit 
and head to the small boat he had hidden on the shore.

	But Croft was hit with a tremendous surprise when he entered 
Sarney.

	The lights were on.

	There were lights in Sarney Sarittenden!

	How could this be? All power throughout August had been and was 
being absorbed by the energy mist. Could the power of the energy mist 
be dissipating? Levi had conducted regular experiments to test the 
strength of the mist, and he found it just as potent as ever. Could the 
mist somehow be weaker here than it was on Aridor.

	No. It must be something about the Palace itself. Croft always 
knew that there was something odd about Sarny Sarittenden the Palace, 
not the city around it. It was all in those mysterious spirals. The 
walls of Sarney Sarittenden looked silver, sometimes, when you looked 
at it; but other times they were green, or grey, or many other colors 
of the rainbow. It was as if the Palace itself had been built of some 
alien material. But the Palace had been there so long that its precise 
origin was a source of mystery to the inhabitants.

	There was power in the Palace. That set off an explosion of 
thoughts inside Croft's head. But before he could consider further, he 
heard rapid footsteps, coming from another direction, and Mongo, 
looking very anxious, started tugging at his sleeve.

	All right. For another time.

	He and Mongo sped off in the opposite direction from the 
approaching footfalls.



	When he and Mongo were safely on the boat and out to sea, Croft 
said, "So, how does it feel to be free?"

	"Better than being caught because mean Croft forced Mongo to go 
on suicide mission," Mongo spat.

	"Well, I can see you're no worse for your experience," said 
Croft. "It was a dangerous mission, but an important one."

	Mongo gave a coarse laugh. "All Croft missions important."

	"That's true," said Croft. "But if this mission hadn't been 
successful, it's a good bet that a lot of us would be dead or enslaved 
under Fat Tony and his buddy Blue Beard."

	Mongo shrugged. "Mongo always get away."

	"So my help was just incidental," said Croft. "From what I saw, 
you were doing quite well there on your own. Was it part of the plan to 
let them torture you with the ropes?"

	Mongo made a dismissive sound with his mouth.

	"You're welcome," said Croft cheerily. He looked out at the sea. 
Mongo, naturally, would not help with the rowing. Sighing, he picked up 
the oars and resumed his slow rowing into the night gloom. At least the 
pressure was off now.





Chapter 6: Return of the Insects



	Two years passed. The Gateway settlement continued to thrive. 
There were still occasional attacks from bandits, and other hazards the 
pioneers faced. But Tony kept to his word and never used his large 
coalition of bandits to attempt another mass invasion of Aridor. They 
had to face attacks from other pirate bands, however, and even some 
natural hazards.

	"I thought the bears weren't supposed to be aggressive," said 
Croft, as Levi bandaged Lieutenant Pomiter's arm.

	"Aren't usually," said Levi. "But weather controllers no longer 
functioning. Change of climate changes bears, maybe. Having to hunt 
farther afield for food. As long as stay in camp, should be no 
problem."

	"I'm sure the hunting and foraging parties and the security 
sentries who have to go outside of camp will appreciate the good news," 
said Croft dryly.

	"Still intent on your trip?" said Levi.

	"Yes," said Croft. "Everything seems well in hand here." Things 
seemed reasonably quiet here, and events on Concord were monitored on a 
regular basis. Croft had trained several teams in basic infiltration 
techniques and regular teams rotated into Concord to keep an eye on 
what the gangs were up to. They hadn't changed their brutal ways, but 
for the most part were keeping to their own continent.

	"It will take you a month to get to the central grasslands," said 
Pomiter. "What do you expect to find there?"

	"I don't know. That's why I'm going," said Croft.

	"But everything is well in hand here," Pomiter insisted. "Why are 
you going to scout out a new base?"

	Croft sighed, and wondered if it was worth the effort to explain. 
"As a spy, and resistance fighter, it was always standard operating 
procedure to have a backup hideout. In fact, at times my group had 
multiple backup hideouts. We never knew when we would need them, but if 
we needed them in a hurry, we'd have them. Here in Gateway we have no 
backup 'hideout'. If we're ever overwhelmed by a sudden attack, we'd 
have no established base to retreat to. Now that the situation has 
finally stabilized, I now have the time to go and explore an alternate 
hideout."

	"Who going with you?" Levi asked.

	"I was thinking of asking for volunteers," said Croft.

	Croft outlined where he was going at the fireside chat that night 
though was purposely vague on the reasons why. There was no need to 
alarm anyone. When the time came to call for volunteers, a number of 
guardsmen stepped forward.

	"I'm touched by your concern, but most of you are needed here," 
said Croft. "Keep in mind that it's going to be a lot of walking." He 
eyed the volunteers, looking for the hardiest one. "What about you, 
Sergeant?" he said, indicating the beefy Sergeant Benesh. Benesh 
nodded.

	Benesh wouldn't be the greatest conversationalist, but at least 
Croft knew he was tough and could keep up with the pace he intended to 
set.

	"Anyone else?" said Croft. He turned to a bony individual sitting 
by the fire. "Mongo?" he smiled.

	Mongo shook his head.

	 "I'll go," came another voice.

	"Who said that?" said Croft. He was surprised to see Shakey 
Walbaum step into the light.

	"Shakey, this is going to involve a lot of walking," said Croft.

	"It can't be worse than farming," said Shakey. That was met by 
chuckles all around.

	Croft sighed. Well, at least he would have someone to talk to. 
"All right." He paused. "Any other takers?"

	"Arf!"

	Croft looked down to see Quick looking up at him with his pointed 
little ears standing straight up. "What is it, boy?"

	"Arf!"

	"Levi, can you provide subtitles?" Croft asked.

	"Volunteer," said Levi.

	"What?"

	"Quick volunteer," said Levi.

	There was widespread laughter among the campfire audience.

	"Levi, this isn't going to be a little jog around the farm," said 
Croft. "We're going to walk literally hundreds of miles inland. Can the 
little guy-"

	"Little legs, yes, but augmented in 212(b) conversion," said 
Levi. "Your legs will tire before his."

	"Hm." Croft looked down at the little dog. He knew Quick was 
bright, but he had never seen the dog be proactive before. Why would 
the dog want to come anyway? Maybe he was bored too.

	"All right," said Croft. He waved a finger at Quick. "But you 
better keep up. Everyone has to pull their own weight."

	Quick wagged his tail twice and smiled.

	"What a team," Croft sighed.



	Levi was there to see them off. He stood with them on the edge of 
a paved road that led inland into the forest. It was the Atil Trial, or 
AT as it was popularly called by hikers who used to ply the route all 
the way from Gateway on the west coast to Kamatchka on the eastern 
coast of Aridor. Hikers came from planets all over the galaxy for the 
several month long hike; ironically enough, however, seldom could a 
resident of August be seen on the trail. It was people from the 
frontier planets who found the idea of walking hundreds of miles 
appealing; the Concordites, addicted to their modern conveniences, 
would have found such a trek inconceivable.

	It would be a long trip, but not so long as those adventurous 
hikers used to take. For they weren't going more than a third of a way 
to towards the eastern coast. There was nothing interesting to see on 
Kamatcha, which until recently was the site of enormous Insect breeding 
farms, until the rebellion had engaged the weather controllers and 
frozen all the bugs there.

	No, they were going only part of the way there to the Central 
Grasslands, to examine whether it could be a suitable place to settle, 
if they ever had to uproot their Gateway settlement. Levi had given 
them a list of plants and minerals to be on the lookout for, and given 
Croft a boring but quick course in how to identify them. 

	They had only enough provisions in their packs for two weeks. 
More than that, aside from a small blanket, they couldn't comfortably 
carry. That's why Croft and Sergeant Benesh carried small bows, which 
they would use to hunt for food. Croft also had a small fishing rod for 
when they passed near the central Aridor river. Hunting for food would 
slow them down, but Croft wasn't in any particular hurry. He needed 
time to think.

	"Remember, is very easy, just follow AT," said Levi. "Will take 
you to Central Grasslands. Is not most direct route, but staying on 
road will make sure not get lost. If do, use sun for guidance to go 
east or west, as need be."

	"Will do, Levi," said Croft, hefting his pack. It was time to go.

	"Good luck!" Quick said.

 	Benesh nodded, Shakey smiled, and Quick arfed! cheerfully. They 
headed down the road. 

	"If we make good time, we should reach the first cabin by 
nightfall," said Croft. A series of cabins had been built along the AT, 
many of them with emergency supplies. Croft had little hope that the 
cabins were still supplied, but it would be nice to have some shelter 
from the elements, as it was starting to get cold at nights.

	They walked along in silence, Croft in the lead, followed by the 
large form of Sergeant Benesh, the skinny Shakey Walbaum, and Quick 
bringing up the rear. Croft didn't feel like talking at the moment. He 
needed time to think.

	To think about escape. It had been nearly three and a half years 
now, three and a half years since he had been trapped on this planet by 
the energy suppressing mist. Ironically, he had had more freedom of 
action when the Insects had occupied August, having gone off-planet 
several times. But now he had been stuck on August for nearly four 
years. Croft couldn't remember the last time he had been on a single 
planet that long.

	And so Croft thought of escape.

	When, two years ago, he first discovered that power functioned in 
Sarney Sarittenden, he had been filled with hope. After bringing Mongo 
home, he had returned to Sarney with another infiltrator team and took 
a tour of the premises. Bandits were occupying part of the Palace, but 
the inside wasn't nearly as well guarded as the main entrances and 
exits, and Croft managed to move around without much difficulty.

	For he had been looking for a very specific corridor. Memory 
flooded back to Croft.

	He had visited the planet of the Capybaras, a race of intelligent 
aliens who looked like large rodents, not once but twice. Twice the 
Professor, his Capybara friend, had brought him back to August in some 
mysterious way that Croft couldn't determine because he time he brought 
Croft back, he rendered Croft unconscious first.

	But after his first trip back Croft was ready the next time 
around, and before the Professor knocked him out he had activated a 
miniaturized holorecorder on his belt. When Croft recovered 
consciousness back on August he hadn't had a chance to look at the 
recording because events were happening too quickly; but in the short 
time after the overthrow of the Insects, before the energy dampening 
mist came to August, Croft had found time to look at the recording.

	And what he saw only confirmed his suspicions. He saw his 
unconscious body being lifted into a room onboard the Monumental ship 
that the Professor had been piloting. The Professor activated a device, 
and Croft's body was nudged through a glowing wall, followed by the 
Professor himself, where they found themselves in a new room that Croft 
had never seen before. The Professor touched something on the wall and 
a section of the wall opened. Croft's body floated out into the 
hallway, clearly a section of Sarney Sarittenden, and the Professor 
telekenetically carried his sleeping form out of the Palace.

	The big question was: where was that hallway?

	Most hallways on Sarney looked alike. Every detail of the journey 
out of Sarney that was recorded on the holorecording were burned into 
Croft's mind, even though he had only seen the recording once--with the 
power out, it was impossible to view again. Even though the lights 
functioned within Sarney, electrical devices that one brought into 
Sarney didn't. Croft had asked Levi about this, and he hypothesized 
that the electrical systems of Sarney were somehow insulated from the 
effects of the energy mist. But further research was impossible because 
they didn't have functional high energy weapons to cut into the 
insulation and examine it.

	And so Croft searched and searched for the exact corridor he saw 
in the holorecording, almost risking his life twice when he nearly ran 
into pirate bands during his searches.

	But he never could find the right location. Or he thought he did; 
but somehow, he couldn't seem to find a way to trigger the wall to open 
in the precise location where he and the Professor had emerged. Maybe 
the wall only opened from the other side? Ridiculous, since the 
Professor had obviously returned home through the same way.

	So that avenue of escape was closed off. Even if Croft could use 
it, the portal or whatever it was seemed to be keyed to the planet of 
the Capybaras, and Croft wasn't exactly popular there right now--during 
his first visit, he had narrowly avoided vivisection, and on his second 
visit, he had stolen a Monumental ship and broke a number of their 
laws. No, they wouldn't likely welcome a return visit.

	So his efforts to escape would have to be channeled elsewhere. 
How to get off-planet? He racked his brain endlessly but couldn't come 
up with a solution. Maybe this long walk would help him think. 

	The disturbing thing was, somewhere in the back of Croft's mind 
he felt that Sarney Sarittenden was the key. Not to escape, but to 
solving the problem of the energy mist. Or maybe Sarney wasn't the key, 
but it reminded Croft of something similar, something that related to 
their present crisis. But whenever Croft tried to retrieve the similar 
memory, he went up against a roadblock. It was almost as if he had a 
memory that he was suppressing. But why would he consciously do that?



	So Croft had a lot to think about during their long trek. They 
came across the first cabin and found it in good condition. They made a 
small campfire and settled down for the night. Although Croft didn't 
think there was anything tangible to fear, he nonetheless dictated that 
they have a watch at night. Even Quick served a watch. The small dog 
(about ten inches in height), wasn't nearly big enough to threaten an 
intruder, but he could bark. Croft kept an eye on the dog the first 
night, when it was Quick's turn to take the watch. Could Quick be 
relied on?

	He watched the small type 212(b) Pomeranian for several minutes. 
The dog's face was away from him, so it was impossible to tell if the 
Pom's eyes were open or not. Croft shifted almost silently and got up 
on his ankles, with the intent of tiptoeing around to see if Quick was 
awake or not.

	But even the slight sound that Croft made in moving his muscles 
was enough to get a reaction--the head whipped around, and two little 
foxlike ears perked up. Quick matched stares with Croft. Croft nodded 
and lay back down. Quick made a dismissive snushing sound with his 
snout and returned to the watch.

	They walked for two weeks without incidence. For Croft though it 
was tiring, it was a welcome break from the routine of the past three 
years at Gateway, almost like a vacation. 

	The ground started to go uphill, as they walked through gently 
sloping hills that took them eastward. One day Quick started barking 
and acting strangely.

	"Arf arf!"

	"What is it, boy?" Croft asked.

	"Arf!" said Quick.

	"Sorry, but I forgot my Pomeranian to human dictionary," Croft 
said.

	"Arf!" said Quick, walking a few steps back the way they had 
come. He walked a few more, looked at Croft, and walked a few more.

	"He wants us to follow," said Croft.

	"But that's the way we came," said Sergeant Benesh.

	"Maybe he wants to go home," said Shakey.

	Croft started following Quick, walking slowly.

	"Arf!" said Quick, trotting more quickly as he barked at Croft, 
as if telling him to pick up the pace. Croft started running to keep up 
with the dog.

	Quick ran down the road. Croft and the others followed. Croft was 
just wondering what this was all about when a man bolted from behind a 
tree and started running. Croft ran after him. The man was scrawny and 
obviously malnourished. Croft caught up to him quickly and tackled him.

	The man fell to the ground but struggled with Croft before Croft 
pinned him down. When Croft looked at his face he found he recognized 
him. It was Rangon, the crazy hermit ranger.

	"Have you come to give us the guided tour?" said Croft acidly. 
After considering for a moment, he got up letting Rangon go.

	Rangon got up, dusting himself off as he glared at Croft. "There 
was no need to attack me."

	"It's always good to keep in practice," Croft commented. "What 
are you doing here?"

	"It's dangerous to be here," said Rangon. "You shouldn't go any 
further."

	"Why?" said Croft.

	"Dangerous monsters," said Rangon.

	"What kind of monsters?"

	"Monsters," said Rangon, obviously reaching the limits of his 
vocabulary.

	"Monsters," Croft repeated. "Well, we eat monsters for 
breakfast."

	Rangon started to turn away. "If you keep going this way, you'll 
regret it."

	"Then I guess you're following us to see our expressions of 
regret," said Croft. 

	Rangon gave no answer but moved off.

	Quick looked up at Croft expectantly, as if waiting for 
something.

	"Good dog!" said Croft, reaching down to pet the small animal on 
the head. Quick stuck out his tongue and smiled.

	"What do you think he was talking about when he mentioned 
monsters?" Shakey said.

	"I have no idea," said Croft.

	When their provisions ran low, Quick proved to be a good hunting 
dog, sniffing the area for rabbits and other game and quietly alerting 
the others by making eye contact and pointing with his snout. Quick 
even located safe berries and nuts that could be eaten. He was very 
useful to have along.

	As they traveled Croft got the sense that Rangon was following 
them. But he didn't seem intent on harming them, and they always kept 
up a watch at night..

	"I wonder what it was he's seen, or think he's seen," said Croft 
as they sat one night in a cabin along the AT. "He's probably the only 
one around here to explore so far east."

	Suddenly, they heard a roar in the wilderness. They all looked at 
each other.

	"Probably just a bear," said Benesh.

	They heard the roar again, and then a different sound, a high-
pitched shrill squeaking sound. 

	"Not a bear," said Croft.

	"Not unless one is learning how to sing," said Shakey.

	And then they heard the sound of an animal screaming. And then 
all was silent.

	"Probably the bear was hunting an animal," said Croft.

	"It sounded like the bear was screaming," said Shakey.

	"Maybe it was hunting another bear," said Croft.

	"Maybe your efforts to improve morale are doing the exact 
opposite," said Shakey.

	"I'll take the first watch," Croft declared.



	The next morning the forest seemed more sinister than it had the 
previous night.

	"See that black shape, there in the forest?" said Shakey.

	"Where?" said Croft. Shakey pointed, and then Croft saw it. A 
large black something, partially obscured by a tree behind the path. 

	Croft, raising his bow, started walking towards it.

	"It could be dangerous," said Benesh.

	"So I'll just have to be real careful, then," said Croft.

	He continued walking slowly. The black mass didn't move, although 
it surely should have heard him by now. As he got closer, his bow still 
notched, he saw that it was the body of a  bear.

	Coming around the tree he saw the bear was clearly dead.  Huge 
gashes had been ripped out of the bear's side. The curved shape of the 
gashes didn't look like the work of another bear. The bear had also 
been partially eaten.

	What was it out there that hunted large black bears?

	Croft waved his hand and the others joined him.

	"Looks nasty," said Shakey. "I think we should turn back."

	"We haven't evaluated the Central Grasslands yet," said Croft.

	"I have," said Shakey. "There are giant monsters roaming around 
that can tear bears apart. Conclusion: we shouldn't move here."

	"First of all we don't know what attacked this bear," said Croft. 
"Second of all, you say monsters; whatever it is might be one of a 
kind."

	"So we have to keep going forward to satisfy your morbid 
curiosity," Shakey sighed.

	"Would you like to lead the way?" Croft smiled.



	They traveled for another week without incident. The only change 
was at night they would, from time to time, hear distant screeching 
sounds. One night they found that by sundown they hadn't reached 
another cabin, and they were forced to camp out in the open. Needless 
to say, Shakey wasn't exactly happy about that.

	"How much longer?" Shakey asked, his features looking worried in 
the firelight.

	"A week, maybe ten days," said Croft. He looked at Shakey. "You 
volunteered for this mission, remember?"

	"I volunteered for a gentle walk in the woods, not to be hunted 
by some night creature," said Shakey.

	"It might just be some kind of mutant owl," said Croft.

	Shakey laughed bitterly.

	"Besides, we have Quick to protect us, don't we, boy?" said 
Croft, giving the Pom  a pat on the head. Quick opened his mouth and 
stuck his tongue out. Croft had become quite found of the Type 212(b) 
over the past few weeks. He had proven to be quite reliable and 
levelheaded, especially for a mutant toy dog.

	Shakey took the first watch that night. When he heard a 
screeching in the distance, he quickly ran to shake Croft.

	Croft, his eyes still closed, said, "Wake me if it gets within 
100 feet."

	Suddenly they heard a scream, a very human scream. 

	Croft jumped to his feet, followed by Bensh a second later. 

	They heard the scream again.

	Then all was silent

	Croft gripped his spear tightly. In the distance he could hear 
slobbering sounds, like an animal feeding. Croft had a rough idea what 
direction the sounds were coming from, but in the darkness, away from 
the campfire, he wasn't about to go and check them out.

	The slobbering sounds continued for some time. And then it was 
quiet again.

	All four of them stayed awake throughout the night. While Croft 
and Benesh were on guard. Shakey sat with clattering teeth, looking 
into the night all around the campfire. He felt like the campfire was 
practically an invitation for miles around to be attacked.



	The next morning as the sun rose Croft nodded to Benesh and they 
walked off the road to the direction that Croft thought he had heard 
the noise. 

	Shakey out to them, "Wait! Don't leave me without protection!"

	"We're not," said Croft. "Quick!"

	The Pom's ears perked up.

	"Defend Shakey while we're gone." 

	"Roah!"

	"How reassuring," said Shakey dryly.

	Croft continued walking through the forest. He thought the 
creature, or whatever it was, would be long gone by now, but there was 
no way to be certain.

	They walked farther and farther, until the road was a distant 
line in the trees, and Croft didn't want to go any further for fear of 
getting lost. As he turned to go back he almost yelled out of fright 
and surprise.

	The mutilated body of Rangon, the crazy ranger, lay on the ground 
by a tree.  He could only tell it was Rangon by the clothes; the body 
had been... the body had been largely eaten, by what Croft couldn't 
tell.

	Shakey could tell by their grim expressions that something was up 
when they returned to the road. He was even less happy when they told 
him what they saw.

	"So the monster eats people now," said Shakey. "All right, we've 
seen enough. Let's go home."

	"It didn't attack us," said Croft.

	"Because it already had a large appetizer," said Shakey. "But 
what about tomorrow."

	"We don't know what it is," said Croft. "It could be another 
bear."

	"Bears eating bears, bears eating people," said Shakey. "It's a 
monster."

	"We came out here to assess the Central Grasslands. We're most of 
the way there," said Croft. "I'm not turning back now."

	"Well I am," said Shakey.

	"Really?" said Croft. "So you're going to travel on the road 
alone?"

	The answer, of course, was obvious.



	They continued forward, albeit more cautiously. It didn't take 
ten days or even seven as Croft had predicted; actually, due to their 
quick pace, it only took another two anxious days of travel. One minute 
the road winded around the bend, and in the next the trees disappeared, 
and as far as the eyes could see they found themselves staring at acres 
and acres of grasslands.

	"Nice," said Croft, smiling. "Let's make for that little hill to 
our left. That should give us a view for some distance."

	They headed for the small hill. Once they reached the top, they 
stared out at the miles of grasslands around them. Some of the grass 
was low, but in other areas it was tall, in some places even eight or 
nine feet in height, like a field.

	"What a view," Croft marveled. He turned to Shakey. "Worth the 
trip?"

	Shakey looked around, and grudgingly nodded. "Now can we go 
home?"

Suddenly they heard a wailing sound.

	"What's that?" said Sergeant Benesh, pointing to some of the 
taller grass.  There was movement in the grass, a ruffling of the 
grass. Something was running through the grass, running towards the 
hill.

	"Look, over there," said Shakey. From two other directions there 
were also rustlings in the grass. The rustlings from all three areas 
were moving rapidly towards the hill they were standing on.

	"Croft, I don't think those are bears!" said Shakey, not trying 
to get the fear out of his voice.

	Croft thought quickly. Whatever they were, they were moving 
quickly. Outrunning them would be difficult. Besides, he wanted to see 
what they were. "Quick, up the tree!"

 	Quick, hearing his name called, looked longingly at Croft. Croft 
realized the problem immediately, and picked up the small dog, suddenly 
recognizing the virtues of having a portable animal. 

	Sergeant Benesh grabbed a low branch and pulled himself up.

	"Here," said Croft, tossing Quick in a gentle arc, where the Pom 
landed in Benesh's arms. Croft climbed up after him while Benesh made 
for a higher branch.

	Croft climbed into the low branch and saw Shakey still trying to 
climb up. He could reach the lower end of the branch but didn't have 
the lower body strength to pull himself up.

	"Croft!" he cried, looking behind him. Their pursuers were now at 
the base of the hill, out of the grass but cut off from view by the 
slope of the hill. That would change, however, in a few seconds.

	"Grab my arm!" Croft shouted, and Shakey did. Croft, hefting 
mightily, pulled Shakey into the lower branch. "We'd better get 
higher," said Croft, climbing for a higher branch that Benesh had 
thoughtfully just abandoned.

	Just as he reached the higher branch something very unexpected 
and deadly appeared on the lip of the hill.



	An Insect trooper.

	The Insects had returned.

	The sight of the Insect hit Croft with a paralyzing surprise. He 
had never expected to see the dirty bugs again. The Insects eye 
complexes stared at him, something clicked, and it started running for 
the tree. Two more Insects came into view over the edge of the hill.

	Croft looked down, and realized that Shakey would easily be in 
range of the Insect on the lower branch. "Grab my arm!" he shouted 
again.

	Shakey grabbed his arm but in doing so his leg slipped off the 
lower branch. The Insect, only feet away, scrambled forward. The Insect 
swung out at a dangling leg with a sharp claw. At that moment Croft 
pulled Shakey up, and the claw missed by mere inches.

	The Insect turned about, and grabbed onto the bark like it was 
about to climb. Croft fumbled to get at his spear, which was slung 
behind his back. But there wasn't enough time. The Insect scampered up 
the tree bark like it was a horizontal walkway. Then there was a thunk! 
and an arrow protruded in the middle of its ugly head. The Insect fell 
to the ground, landing with a thud just as its two associates arrived. 

	Sergeant Benesh notched another arrow while Croft finally got his 
spear into battle position. The Insects climbed the tree from two 
sides. Croft jabbed out at one, but it ducked down, evading 
penetration. Suddenly he felt a painful scratch in his back and he 
turned just in time to see the other Insect raising another claw. 

	Shakey, who was standing on the branch right next to Croft, 
reached out and kicked the Insect in one of its visual multiplexes, and 
it slithered down the bark, stunned. 

	The other Insect scampered up the bark, only to be shot in the 
side by an arrow. It cried out, tried to climb up again, but was shot a 
second time by Benesh. Spurting green blood, it fell to the ground.

	The last remaining bug scampered up the bark again, but this time 
Croft was ready for it and not distracted by attacks from the other 
side. He lunged with his spear, catching the bug dead center. The bug 
fell back, and the spear with it. Croft, still grabbing the spear, fell 
out of the tree and landed on top of the body, which made a sickening 
crushing sound.

	All was silent for a moment.

	"Are you ok?" said Benesh, climbing out of the tree.

	"Yeah," said Croft, slowly getting up. There was green goo on him 
from where he had landed on the bug. He turned away from Benesh. "How's 
my back?"

	Benesh took a closer look. "A little blood, but the cut doesn't 
look too deep. Does it hurt?"

	"Yes," said Croft, wincing as he tried to touch the cut. He 
looked up at Shakey. "You can come down now. It's perfectly safe."

	"Right," said Shakey, totally unconvinced. "Are you sure they're 
dead?"

	"Quite sure," said Croft. He kicked the one he had landed on top 
of. "See?"

	Suddenly Croft heard a warning Arf! and he spun around just in 
time to see an Insect with two arrows in it lung at him. He dodged out 
of the way just in time and smashed the blunt end of his spear against 
the bug's face.

	Shakey refused to come down until all three bodies were 
decapitated.



	"So the bugs are here," said Croft, after Benesh had washed and 
dressed his wound. It still hurt, but the injury wasn't critical. "The 
question is, how?"

	"Can we worry about how as we start walking home?" said Shakey 
nervously.

	"We used the weather controllers to lower the temperature on the 
planet," said Croft. "They all should have frozen. Therefore, these 
must be new Insects."

	But he was frowning as he said it. He looked over the bodies. "If 
these are new Insects, how did they get here? How could they land a 
ship through the energy dampening mist?"

	"A good question, we should go home immediately and talk to Levi 
about it," said Shakey.

	"These aren't typical Insect troopers," said Croft. "They're 
about a foot shorter than typical troopers. They're also leaner, not as 
large and intimidating."

	"They're intimidating enough," said Shakey.

	"Even if the Insects have bred a new kind of soldier that can 
survive here, how did they get here?" said Croft.

	"Croft!" said Shakey.

	"Don't you see?" said Croft. "If the bugs can land ships here, 
that means they have a way of defeating the energy mist. If we get one 
of their ships, we can get off-planet."

	"Sounds like a plan," said Shakey. "We should head back to 
Gateway and gather up a strike team suited for this job."

	"But where are they coming from?" Croft asked. "There's no sign 
of a base around here. They must be coming from Kamatchka."

	"Kamatchka?"

	"That's where their old base on Aridor was, it makes sense they 
would be coming from there," said Croft. "They took over the entire 
eastern seaboard of Aridor and converted it into breeding farms. I'm 
guessing that they've reestablished their old base there."

	"A good piece of deduction," said Shakey. "Can we go now?"

	"Yes," said Croft finally.

	Shakey started to walk back the way they had come.

	"Wrong way," said Croft.

	Shakey turned around.

	"Kamatchka is that way," said Croft, pointing in the other 
direction.



	In the end, Shakey was persuaded to come with them when he 
considered the merits of traveling alone.

	Still, he didn't accept it easily. 

	"It will take over two months to get to Kamatchka!" said Shakey.

	"I'm guessing about three weeks, if we build a raft," said Croft.

	"Raft?"

	"I'm no expert on the geography of Aridor, but I did look at some 
of Levi's maps and I remember that the Hoop River flows from the 
Central Grasslands almost directly to the eastern coast. Using the 
current and a bit of paddling I'll bet we could get there in three 
weeks. Maybe even sooner."

	"And what do we do once we get there?" said Shakey. "If the place 
is overrun with bugs, surely they'll-"

	"We're just going to scout around, not commit a frontal assault," 
said Croft. "If we can steal one of their ships, just think, we can be 
back at Gateway in minutes, not weeks."

	They found the Hoop River easily enough, following a stream which 
lead them to the River along the southern edge of the Grasslands. Croft 
and Benesh spent a day building a raft and makeshift oars. Even Quick 
helped, locating branches that could be lashed together to insulate the 
space between the larger pieces of wood. They tied up the wood using 
sturdy vines, also located by Quick. He listened to them carefully and 
seemed to understand immediately what they were up to, and what he 
could do to help.

	When they were ready to go Shakey made one last plea. "We don't 
even have guns."

	"Neither do they," said Croft. "These mosquitos we took out 
weren't armed."

	"And we almost got killed!"

	"You knocked one out with a well-placed kick," Croft observed.

	"It was pure instinct," said Shakey.

	"I didn't realize comedians had killer instincts," Croft 
commented. "Now get on the raft, if you please."



	The currents carried them rapidly through central Aridor. It was 
beautiful there--the forest was soon all around them again, there were 
animals running in meadows, birds singing, and majestic mountains in 
the distance If not for the danger of the Insects, it would have been 
quite a relaxing outing. They didn't see any signs of Insects; if there 
were more of them, they weren't indigenous to this area.

	As they rafted for three weeks Croft couldn't contain his 
excitement. Finally, after three years, he had a hope of escape! He had 
no doubt that he could break into the Insect base and steal one of 
their spaceships. After all, he had done it before. The lack of energy 
weapons would only add to the challenge.

	They approached cautiously, skirting the edge of the imposing 
Soaring Mountain Range, which traveled north of the Hoop River. They 
weren't very far from the east coast, perhaps four or five miles. And a 
mere two thousand miles east of that was the west coast of Concord. 

	They saw signs of the Insect presence even before they reached 
the edge of the old grubtree farms, tall shapes that caused them to 
duck behind bushes.  The Insects were wandering about, this way and 
that, but were... somehow erratic. They didn't seem the same, not quite 
like the bugs that Croft had battled for more than two decades.

	Croft guided the others through the Insect patrols. It would've 
been easier doing this on his own, but if they found a ship, they would 
all have to be together if they were to escape. 

	But slipping through wasn't that difficult. Somehow the Insects 
weren't as methodical as they used to be.

	As they slipped through denuded grubfruit trees Croft felt a wave 
of satisfaction. Levi had devised a virus which killed or stunted the 
grubfruit trees and prevented them from bearing fruit, which was the 
prime source of nutrients for the Insects. The trees were still barren; 
what were the Insects eating now?

	As they made their way north they came across some breeding vats. 
Some were long abandoned, or littered with bug corpses, but others were 
bubbling with ferment. They were breeding more Insect troopers! But how 
were they sustaining them? Were they constantly flying in large 
quantities of food?

	The answer might be in one of the storage huts they passed by. 
Croft left the others hiding behind some grubfruit trunks and slunk in, 
passing inches behind a guard who never saw or heard him coming.

	The inside of the storage hut gave off a stank and Croft quickly 
saw why. It was filled with animal corpses--rabbits, deer, and other 
grazing animals. Well, he had the answer to one question. The Insects 
had somehow become carnivores.

	He slipped his way out of the hut and made his way back to the 
others. 

	"Can we leave now?" Shakey whispered. Quick, looking alert with 
his foxlike ears pointed straight up, was scanning the horizon for 
trouble.

	"We haven't found the spaceships, remember?" Croft whispered 
back. "According to intel I received during the war, there should be a 
landing pad just a mile or two north of here, if we are where I think 
we are. That's where we'll make our escape, if all goes well."

	They kept moving forward, crouching behind bushes and other 
natural cover. There were Insects in the area but they didn't seem to 
be as actively patrolling as the ones on the perimeter. Indeed, a few 
wandered around almost listlessly.

	After a few close calls they reached the edge of the spaceport. 
Spaceport might be an exaggeration: there were a number of landing 
pads, and a small port building, but little else.

	No spaceships. Where were the spaceships?

	"Maybe they land somewhere else," Croft whispered, knowing 
immediately that it was an idiotic thing to say. If there were Insects 
here, and functioning landing pads here, why wouldn't ships land here?

	A suspicion started to form in his mind. A very nasty one. If he 
was right, they were all in great danger. 

	Croft hadn't gotten the concrete information he needed, and he 
certainly hadn't found a ship to escape in, but he at least had a 
working hypothesis, and that, for now, was enough. His duty was to 
survive long enough to warn Gateway. Because if he was right, these new 
Insects had a new and most dangerous ability.

	They slowly started back. Croft's tentative plan was to head 
south towards the river and then plot a course home from there. The 
river now flowed in the wrong direction, and it would be a long, long 
walk home.

	They would have made it back safely, if Shakey, whose training in 
infiltration techniques were non-existent at best, hadn't tripped over 
a rock, alerting a nearby Insect.

	Everyone froze, hoping the bug wouldn't see them. But they heard 
the thud thud of an approach. Croft, Benesh, Quick, and Shakey were 
hiding behind some boulders, but if the bug came really close...

	A set of multiplex eyes peered out above the boulder where Croft 
crouched. He lunged with his spear and stuck the bug in the gut. It 
gave a loud shriek and collapsed to the ground.

	Every Insect within a quarter mile turned to look at them.

	"Time to run!" Croft said.



	They ran through the grubfruit plantation, with swarms of Insects 
in hot pursuit. Every time they stopped to fight one or two more would 
appear. Finally, they just ran.

	But when they reached the edge of a grubfruit plantation, 
breathing hard, they found a wall of Insects waiting for them. Turning 
around, they saw a horde behind them. They were unarmed but all had 
claws. They slowly closed in.

	Croft turned to glare at Shakey as he dropped his spear and 
raised his hands. "If you think you're to blame for this, YOU'RE ONE 
HUNDRED PERCENT CORRECT!"

	The bugs closed in.



	"Bzzz bzzz bzzz," said their interrogator.

	"I'm sure it's a great language, but I have no plans to speak 
it," said Croft sullenly. He and Benesh and Shakey were bound by their 
hands and legs in one of the bugs administration centers. Each was 
being interrogated in a different room. The bugs didn't seem to have 
their translation devices working--not surprising, because of the 
energy draining mist. 

	Another bug, who looked more like the old Insects Croft knew, a 
bit harder, sturdier, and taller than the rest, came forward.

	"Bzzz bzzzz name?" it said haltingly.

	"Master," said Croft.

	"Master," came the voice. "What... bzzz bzzz doing here Master?"

	"On vacation," said Croft.

	The Insect buzzed menacingly.

	"Let me ask you a question in return," said Croft. "What are you 
doing here? Where are your ships?"

	"Ships?" The Insect buzzed, which might have been the equivalent 
of a laugh. "We... are... here. We... always... are here...."

	That only confirmed Croft's suspicions.

	"How... many... you...?"

	"Just us," said Croft. "We're visitors from Concord."

	"In-correct," said the bug. "Your companion... bzzz... already 
say... bzzz... west Aridor.... Bzzz...."

	That would have to be Shakey.  Now Croft had even more to thank 
him for.

	"What are you doing here? You should be dead," said Croft. "The 
cold."

	"Bzzz.. many die... bzzz... survivors... bzzz adapt..."

	So that was it. Somehow some of them had managed to adapt to the 
cold. They were smaller and sicklier, compared to the other Insects, 
but they had survived. They had also adapted by eating meat. Croft 
didn't want to think how far that went.

	"Need... humans... where... humans?"

	"You'll find a lot on Concord," said Croft.

	"Concord... too far... over sea..."

	That confirmed another of Croft's suspicions. They had no power. 
They were just as helpless under the energy mist as Croft's people 
were.

	"You will take us... bzzz... to Aridor humans."

	"Sure," said Croft. He held out his hands. "Just untie me and 
we'll get started."

	"Leave bzzz... tomorrow...."

	Croft was carried into another room where Benesh and Shakey were 
also tied up. The door was open but an Insect stood guard there.

	"Thanks a lot, Shakey," said Croft. "Now they know about 
Gateway."

	"I couldn't help it! They threatened to torture me!" said Shakey.

	"So you delayed discomfort by putting the lives of several 
hundred other people at risk," said Croft. "Do you know why they want 
to find other humans?"

	"Uh, to make them slaves again?" said Shakey.

	"Think again, Shakey. Have you noticed the change in their dining 
habits lately?" said Croft.

	"Oh."

	The silence filled volumes.

	"Well, at least Quick got away," Benesh whispered.

	It was true. During the confusion Quick had somehow escaped, 
using his little legs to dart past the Insects and escape into the 
grubfruit plantation.

	"Well, maybe he'll get word back to Gateway," said Croft. An 
image formed in his mind of the little dog, making the lonely trek back 
home through the wilderness all by himself, chased by wolves and bears. 
He knew that Quick could probably find his way home, but despite his 
bravado, he really was only a lapdog--could he cope in the wilderness 
on his own without becoming prey to something much larger? Quick was 
versatile, but he was made for thinking, not fighting.

	"Arf! Arf Arf Arf!"

	Croft looked at Shakey. Shakey looked back at him.

	"Arf! Arf Arf!"

	"No, Quick, run," Croft muttered. He had an image of an Insect 
eating Quick in one bite. There was a rush of footsteps as Insects left 
the building, their guard included. 

	Croft immediately flopped over so that his wrists, which were 
tied behind his back, were next to Benesh's. "Can you feel my ropes?"

	"I think so," said Benesh, trying to turn to get his hands in 
synch with Croft's wrists.

	There was a sound of rushing movement outside.

	"Trying to untie... but these are pretty tight," said Benesh.

	Suddenly a small type 212(b) Pomeranian came hopping into the 
room. He twisted his head, and looked oddly at Croft.

	"What took you so long?" said Croft. "Come on, don't just stand 
there!"

Quick hopped onto Croft's stomach, reached over and started biting his 
ropes. The sounds of rushing movement could still be heard outside.

	Croft's hands were free! He quickly reached over and freed 
Benesh, then Shakey, then started on his legs. 

	The thump-thump sound of the Insect guard returning could be 
heard. Croft, quickly looking around, picked up a metal pipe. When the 
guard came to the doorway, Croft swung it with all his might.

	The guard gave a shrilling sound and went down.

	"Come on!" said Croft.

	They ran for their lives, heading for the mountains. The nearby 
Soaring Range was tall, and snowcapped, even in summer.

	But the Insects were faster, and were catching up with them. 
Croft saw that a group of them were going to cut them off before they 
reached the base of the mountains, and all they had to fight with was 
one metal pipe.

	In between them and the mountains were a large cluster of bushes, 
extending for hundreds of feet north and south. Croft, catching Benesh 
and Shakey by the eye, dove into the bushes. The others did as well.

	The thump thump thump of the pursuing Insect grew louder as many 
of them approached. Croft knew that with his metal pipe he'd be lucky 
to fight one of them, much less 20 or 30. No, his only option was to 
hide.

	The Insects fanned out over the bushes. Most of the vegetation 
were on the outside of the bushes, so Croft's head was mostly covered 
by a thin layer of leaf petals. But inside the bush Croft could see a 
far distance in every direction. He could see Benesh and Shakey, also 
crouched down in the distance. Fortunately none of the Insects had the 
sense to crouch down and look sideways as he was doing.

	But the Insects were roaming the bushes in large numbers. It was 
very possible that they could find him, either by bumping into him or 
seeing him through the thin layer of vegetation if they were directly 
over him.

	Croft grasped his pipe tightly.

	Suddenly, a sense of déjà vu gripped him.



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



	He was in another place, in another time. On an ancient 
Monumental ship, being chased by a monster of horrible description. But 
he and his friends had to stand very, very still, or else they would be 
discovered.



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



	The Insects roamed through the bush. One came within two feet of 
his location and stopped moving. Croft stopped breathing for a moment. 
The Insect moved on. Croft allowed himself to silently exhale.

	Suddenly, there was a scream. Croft looked sideways and saw 
Benesh lifted up. There was a rapid swish swish and Benesh's arms and 
legs fell to the ground, and then his torso. The Insects dived down 
into the bush and started chomping on the body hungrily, fighting among 
themselves for the body parts.

	Croft use the noise and commotion to mask his movements, slowly 
crawling to the edge of the bush. If only one of those Insects lowered 
its head to bush level and looked sideways, he would be dead meat!

	But only their claws were below bush level, not their heads, and 
they were too busy fighting each other for their newly found food 
source.

	Croft crawled out of the bush and silently crawled some distance 
away behind the cover of boulders, and tried to prevent himself from 
becoming sick.



	Some time passed. Croft heard a noise nearby. He looked for his 
pipe, but he had been so shocked by the experience that he had lost it. 
Croft prepared to run.

	Croft heard a sniffing sound. It grew louder and louder, until 
Quick, who must have been following his scent, came around the corner. 
Quick looked at Croft. Croft looked at Quick.

	"Shakey?" said Croft.

	Quick gestured with his snout, and started walking away. Croft 
followed, to a nearby group of boulders where Shakey was hiding.

	He looked at Croft with fear filled eyes. "Did you see what they 
did to him?" he whispered.

	Croft nodded. "Shakey, we've got to go."

	Shakey, paralyzed with fright, and trembling, nodded. But he 
didn't move.

	Croft used his hand to turn Shakey's head to face his. "Now," 
said Croft.

	They crawled to the foot of one of the mountains in the Soaring 
Range. It actually wasn't far now. At the base of the mountain Shakey 
asked why they didn't flee north or south instead. "We can move quicker 
on flat land," he said.

	"So can they," said Croft. "Come on."

	They started climbing. They were lucky enough to have found a 
natural path leading up into the mountain face, perhaps created by 
hikers generations ago. Croft and Shakey climbed laboriously, always 
looking behind them for signs of pursuit. Quick, though he stuck out 
his tongue and puffed with exertion, didn't otherwise show any signs of 
fatigue.

	They had climbed for only 15 minutes when they heard a screech 
below them. They had been spotted.

	A line of Insects could be seen making their way to the mountain.

	"We've got to hurry," said Croft. He estimated that they had 
maybe a 25 or 30 minute advantage, and the Insects were better climbers 
than humans were. Well, it would have to be enough.

	They rapidly gained altitude as they climbed. The snowcapped peak 
loomed some distance above them.

	"It's getting colder," said Shakey. "What if the path is snowed 
out at the top?"

	"That's what I'm counting on," said Croft. He looked down. At 
this point in the trail the path wound beneath a narrow set of walls. 
Croft could faintly hear buzzing from their pursuers below them. 
Looking around, he saw a nearby boulder perched on a ledge. It wasn't 
large, for a boulder, about as high as Croft's waist, but it looked 
reasonably heavy.

	"Why are you stopping?" said Shakey.

	"Keep going," said Croft. "I'll catch up in a minute." He gave 
the boulder a push, and then another. In a moment, it was rolling down 
the path.

	"What were you doing back there?" said Shakey, as Croft caught 
up.

	They heard loud shrieks behind them.

	"Just giving the bugs at the head of the line something to think 
about," Croft commented.

	They kept climbing but the cold and the fatigue were taking their 
toll. Several times Shakey wanted to collapse from exhaustion, but all 
Croft had to do was to make him listen to the approaching buzzing 
sounds to get him to get moving again.

	Finally, with the Insects in sight behind them, they reached the 
first bank of snow. Croft found that his teeth were clattering as an 
icy wind gripped him. He hadn't come equipped for this.

	Shakey collapsed near the snowbank.

	"Just a little farther!" Croft said.

	"What? They're almost caught up to us," said Shakey.

	"Just a little farther," Croft repeated, through clattering 
teeth.

	They continued climbing. By this time it was close to nightfall. 
The sun was creating long shadows along the mountain face. Their 
pursuers could be seen behind them in the distance.

	Finally Shakey collapsed in the snow. "I need a rest. I can't go 
anymore."

	"Ok," said Croft, feeling the same. But rather than collapsing he 
looked around. Seeing what he was looking for, he reached over for a 
long icicle, snapped it off, and waited.

	And waited.

	Very, very slowly the line of Insects got closer. They were 
moving extremely slowly now.  As they got closer, Croft saw that it 
wasn't even a line, but bunches of two's and three's. And the bunches 
of two's and three's became one's and two's as some of the Insects 
stopped moving and others leapfrogged.

	Seven Insects closed within 20 feet. Five Insects closed within 
15 feet. Four Insects closed within 10 feet. Two Insects closed within 
5 feet.

	One Insect, shuffling very slowly, towered over Croft. It swayed 
back and forth.

	Croft took a step back.

	The Insect, glaring at him, collapsed.

	Croft dropped the icicle, which was freezing his hand.

	He collected Shakey and Quick. "Come on," he said. "We've got to 
get over the other side before we freeze too."

	Croft explained it to Shakey once they were over the top and on 
their way down. The Insects had mutated in such a way so that they 
could survive the winter cold of August. But survive didn't mean they 
enjoyed it. Instead of killing them, they had only evolved to the point 
that the cold forced them to go into hibernation. Croft hadn't known 
this for a fact, but he suspected that they still must have had some 
vulnerability to the cold, which was why he had chosen this mountainous 
escape route.

	When they came down the other side of the mountain the next day 
they were hardly safe. Insect patrols could be seen from time to time, 
undoubtedly looking for them. But it was a big forest and now that they 
knew that they were being searched for, Croft felt confident they could 
stay out of harm's way.

	"What if they send all their forces against us?" said Shakey.

	Croft grinned. "You forget. What month is it?"

	"November. What does that have to do with anything... oh, I see."

	"Come December they'll all be asleep. If I had a team of 
commandos, we'd stick around here until they were all asleep and cut 
their throats one by one."

	"I hope you're not planning to stay!"

	"No," said Croft. "If something goes wrong and we get killed, 
Gateway will be attacked without warning. They'd never have a chance. 
This is a good opportunity to attack them, but our first duty is to 
survive."

	"That's the first piece of good news I've had in a while."

	"Well, then steel yourself for some bad news," said Croft. "It 
may take us three or four months to walk home."

	"Walk home? Can't we find a river heading west?"

	"Maybe," said Croft. "But I didn't study the maps of Aridor that 
closely. I didn't think we'd be coming out this far."

	"Arf!" said Quick.

	"What is it, boy?" said Croft, bending down.

	"Arf!" said Quick again.

	"You know a river going west? You've seen the maps?"

	"Arf!" A tail wagged twice.

	"Well, then lead the way," said Croft.



	The next two months were tedious, but not especially eventful. 
Croft, having gotten more than his share of adventure, was glad for the 
tedium. For something was bothering him. Something important. And it 
came to him at night, always in his dreams.



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

He stood under one light, Franklin under another. The thing, a dark 
whirling cloud, paused for what seemed like a long time, as if trying 
to figure out what was what. Then it launched itself at Franklin, and 
screamed. Croft shut his eyes for just an instant, telling himself to 
be very still... when he opened them again, the creature was gone.

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



	Why was he having this dream, over and over again? It was one of 
the most unpleasant memories of his life. If anything, he tried to bury 
it deep down, to never recall the horrors of his experience on the 
Monumental ship. Finding a Monumental ship was considered one of the 
greatest prizes there were to be found in the galaxy; but after his 
escape from that particular Monumental ship, he never told anyone about 
it. He never wanted that ship, and the thing inside of it, to be found 
by anybody ever again.



	Croft felt a touch on his arm. He jerked into awareness, and saw 
Shakey touching him.

	"You were moaning again," said Shakey. "From the way you mumbled, 
'No, no', I get the impression it wasn't a fun dream."

	Croft said nothing.

	"You've been having these dreams ever since we escaped from 
Kamatchka," said Shakey. "I can't blame you, the experience really 
unnerved me."

	"That's not it," said Croft, shaking his head. "I've seen death 
before. That's not it."

	"Then what is it, then?" said Shakey.

	Croft shook his head again. "I don't know. I keep getting 
flashbacks to... something I encountered, a long time ago. It wasn't a 
pleasant experience."

	"Well, maybe it's one nightmarish experience triggering another."

	"No," said Croft. "It's definitely, definitely something else."



	They continued their long trek back to Gateway. They reached the 
river so expertly located by Quick and built a raft. But the path back 
wasn't nearly so direct, and they had to walk almost half the way home 
after that, though Quick located a second river that they traveled on 
for a week. They never doubted the dog's guidance, or interpretation of 
maps he had seen months earlier.

	The nights were colder as December came and went and January 
arrived. They took precious time to stop and make makeshift blankets 
out of some deer that Croft skinned, using a homemade bow and arrow he 
constructed. Quick helped out as always by helping them locate game. By 
the middle of December all signs of the Insects disappeared. But Croft 
knew that they were only gone for a short time. They knew where Gateway 
was, and they were going to come for it.

	They would come to Gateway and kill everyone they could and eat 
them. And there was nothing that Croft could do about it. There were 
far more Insects then there were settlers at Gateway. Though the 
Insects didn't have weapons, they had deadly claws that could be used 
to cut their enemies. Could they hold off so many with spears and bows 
and arrows? 

	Maybe if they moved to a more defensible position, such as Mount 
Montalk. Their only other option was to run, but there was no way a 
community their size could hide from the Insects for very long. Their 
only other choice was to return to Concord, and that wasn't very much 
of an option either.

	Or.... Or....

	There was another option.

	There was!

	If they could get the power back, they could fight the Insects 
with lasers. But why was he thinking about getting the power back? What 
was it that triggered that connection?



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

Benesh was in the bushes, as Croft was. Both stood very still.



Croft was under one beam of light, and Franklin was under another. 



The Insects could see Benesh's location, but they couldn't see his.



The swirling-darkness creature existed on energy, which meant that it 
could get to Franklin's location, but not his.



That was the answer! That was the connection! That was the solution!



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



	In all Alliance space there was now one lifeform, one man, who 
knew how to restore power to August and all the other Alliance worlds 
suffering under the energy mist. His name was Clifford Croft, one of 
the Agency Eight.

	And all he had to do to free August was to somehow communicate 
his findings to the outside world.



	Croft jumped up and yelled into the night at the top of his 
lungs, "I did it! I did it! I did it!"

	"What? What? What did you do?" said Shakey, looking groggy.

	Quick, who had been on watch, turned a pair of pointed ears 
inquiringly on Croft.

	"What did I do? Nothing yet," said Croft. "Just wait and see. 
Just wait and see..."



	They returned to Gateway a week later, in the middle of February. 
Croft immediately had a meeting with the senior staff.

	"You were supposed to return two months ago," said General Arkik. 
"Everyone thought you were dead. I knew better, of course."

	"What a pleasure it is to see you alive," said Mayor Goodmon. 
"We'll have a banquet in your honor-"

	"Hold off on the banquet, unless you want to set places for 
10,000 hungry Insects," said Croft grimly.

	"Insects?" said Goodmon, his face falling.

	"They're here. On Kamatchka. And they'll be coming," said Croft. 
He told them an abbreviated version of their adventures. When he got to 
the part about Benesh, a number of guardsmen clenched their firsts or 
grit their teeth.

	"He was a fine man, one of the best," said Captain Kiley.

	"We will avenge him," said Major Rambus grimly. "When the bugs 
arrive, we'll teach them a thing or two."

	"They may be the one doing the teaching," said Croft. "I don't 
know their exact numbers, but there are more of them then there are of 
us, and they're fearsome fighters, even when they're unarmed. A claw 
can kill almost as quickly as a laser can."

	"What makes you think they'll come?" said Goodmon. "After all, 
they are on the far end of the continent."

	"They're hungry, Mr. Mayor, and they want meat," said Croft. "Or 
do I have to draw you a picture?"

	"Surely... surely they wouldn't... they're not animals...."

	"No, they're bugs," said Croft. 

	"How long do we have?" Arkik asked.

	"I think we have some time. It's February now. I'm guessing it 
will be at least another month before they're sufficiently recovered 
from the winter cold to head off. I'm further guessing it will take 
them at least three months to get here, so perhaps we have until 
sometime in June. But they could attack sooner."

	"What do you suggest?" Arkik said.

	"We can't move around like a well-supplied mobile combat force. 
We have to tend fields and other facilities. We can't simply roam 
around in the hopes they won't find us. Eventually, they will," said 
Croft. "What I suggest you do is create fortified positions on Mount 
Montalk. If you can survive anywhere, it will be there."

	"You say 'you'," said Arkik. "You make it sound like you won't be 
with us."

	"I have another idea to try," said Croft. "If you'll excuse me, I 
have to see Levi."



	He sat down with Levi and spoke with him for a long time. When he 
was done Levi nodded. "Is possible. But what use is your knowing secret 
if you can't get off August?"

	"There's only one way I know to get off of August," said Croft. 
"And that's by using the teleport device hidden somewhere inside Sarney 
Sarittenden." 

	"But couldn't find."

	"But maybe you could, with your detection devices," said Croft. 
"They might work inside Sarney. Or maybe the communications equipment 
would work there. One way or another, maybe we can get the word out. 
All we need to do is to reach one Alliance ship."

	Levi nodded. "When we leave?"

	"First thing tomorrow," said Croft.

	"You just got back! Are not tired?"

	"No time to waste, Levi," said Croft. He turned to go, and 
another thought occurred to him. "Oh, and Levi?"

	"Yes?"

	"Thanks for lending me Quick. He was really quite useful."

	Quick came into the room with a hop and a bounce, his ears up. 
"Roah!"

	"You welcome," said Levi, translating.



	Two small boats headed towards Concord, one with Levi and Croft 
and two guardsmen, and another with four more guardsmen. General Arkik 
had assigned Captain Kiley with some of his very best men to see that 
nothing happened to them. Croft was silent, with a determined look on 
his face. He said nothing the entire trip.

	When they got to Sarney they infiltrated into the Palace through 
the underground entrance. There were some bandits roaming around; 
Captain Kiley and one of his men knocked one out.

	Croft took Levi to the hallway he felt sure contained the 
entrance to the teleporter. When they got there he simply pointed to 
the wall. Levi took out one of his devices and turned it on. Then he 
tapped it.

	Nothing.

	"It doesn't work?" said Croft. He already knew that blasters 
didn't work inside Sarney, but he hoped that devices that used less 
power might.

	"No," said Levi. "Lights work, but must be shielded in some way."

	"This is the wall, I'm sure of it!" said Croft.

	"Hm," said Levi. "Time to use other detection techniques." He 
reached out and actually began tapping the wall.

	Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap.

	"Here," said Levi. "Tap lighter sounding than other places."

	"So it is here," said Croft. He looked at the seamless wall. "How 
do we open it?"

	Levi shrugged.

	"Levi?"

	"Have no analytic equipment, not even cutting equipment," said 
Levi.

	"Isn't there anything you can do?" said Croft. Levi was a 
scientific wizard, he had never just given up like this. But then, he 
had never before been deprived of all technology. Maybe Croft expected 
too much.

	Levi considered. He put his hand against the wall, then said, 
"Open."

	Nothing happened.

	"Very funny," Croft growled.

	"Can't do anything without equipment," said Levi. 

	"The Meddler Capybara got the door open without equipment, at 
least, I think he did," said Croft.

	"Without my equipment working, not possible to say how," said 
Levi.

	"All right," Croft sighed. It was a long shot anyway, and even if 
they could have gotten the teleporter working, it might have taken them 
to the planet of the Capybaras, where Croft would be far from welcome. 
They still had one more chance; the communication center at the Central 
Rotunda.

	Croft nodded to Captain Kiley; they headed off.

	There were several bandits in the Central Rotunda; for once Croft 
didn't get involved, letting Kiley and his men clear the area. He had 
one, last chance now. Either they would be able to notify the fleet and 
save August, or they wouldn't.

	When the brief battle was over Kiley reported, "I think one of 
them may have gotten away. We don't have much time."

	"Levi?"

	Levi was already pouring over the equipment. Must of it was 
damaged by years of abuse and neglect, but some of it still functioned. 
More importantly, power seemed to run through these devices.

	Levi started rapidly working on a console. Suddenly there was a 
static sound and Levi was speaking. "Hello. Hello. This is August. 
Anyone out there?"

	There was static in response.

	"Is it working?" said Croft.

	In the distance they could hear the sound of feet running.

	"We have to hurry," said Kiley.

	Levi frowned, turned a dial, and checked a reading.

	He turned to Croft, and his face said it all. 

	"Comm working," said Levi. "But energy drain interrupting 
signal."

	"Are you sure?"

	"Checked receiver. Should be receiving interstellar beacons, 
regular star pulses. Nothing but static," said Levi. "Can talk, but 
interference will prevent signal from getting out of atmosphere."

	Croft's face fell.

	"Hurry, we have to leave, now!" said Kiley, as the sounds of 
footsteps came closer.

	Croft dumbly let himself be led away by Kiley. But he didn't feel 
like he was in a hurry. There was nothing to be in a hurry about. There 
was no way to get word of what he knew out to the rest of the galaxy. 

	He had failed.

	As Croft let Kiley's men hustle him down a hallway, he reflected 
on the irony of it. He knew the answer; he knew the solution to their 
problem; but he would never be in a position to tell anyone who could 
help them with it.





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

Part II: The Alien Incursions

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



Chapter 7: Picking Up the Pieces



The Time: Right after Queen Zsst's attack on August, Four Years Earlier



	"I tell you, Obe, it's discrimination."

	Command Captain Idaho J. Took took a sip of his gauche and made a 
face. The gauche on the Royal Oak was, if possible, worse than that on 
the Glory. The events of the past week flashed by him.

	He and his wingman, Kato Obe, had been the first on the scene 
when they found the Glory, floating in space. The War Admiral had 
ordered the ship evacuated and then steered a course directly towards 
the giant Monumental ship which threatened to destroy August. The War 
Admiral had planned to set the ship to self destruct when he got close 
enough, in the hopes of destroying the Monumental ship as well.

	But the giant Monumental ship, apparently under the command of 
their dreaded enemy, Queen Zsst, simply turned around before 
encountering the Glory, and hadn't been seen in known space since.

	Took and Obe landed in one of the Glory's large landing bays. It 
was eerie how empty it was; but the crew, of course, was gone. As they 
made their way to the bridge Took noticed anew how much battle damage 
the ship had suffered during two decades of flight from the Insects, 
and then again during the subsequent battles to push the bugs out of 
Alliance space.

	When they got to the bridge, a single man sat in the center 
chair, waiting for them.

	"About time, gentlemen," said the most brilliant war strategist 
of all time.

	That was none other than the legendary War Admiral Norman North.



	"And what's the first thing he did to thank me?" said Took. "He 
demoted me! What do you have to say to that, Obe?"

	"You were the one who didn't want to be promoted in the first 
place," said Obe. "And as the War Admiral explained, since the size of 
the fleet has shrunk, there are fewer higher ranks to go around. I mean 
we have what, only three carriers left, two if you don't count the 
Glory, right?"



	The Glory was under heavy repair and likely would be in that 
condition for months. The attack on the Insect fleets had taken their 
toll, but an even heavier toll had been taken by the ravaging 
Monumental ship, which destroyed everything in its path. The first 
thing the War Admiral did after being rescued from the Glory was to 
transfer to the carrier Royal Oak. He quickly convened a meeting with 
senior staff, with some arriving in person but most participating in 
holo, while the Glory started to restaff and make repairs.

	The War Admiral began. "Gentlemen, here is our situation.The 
Monumental ship has hit nearly all of our planets with the energy mist 
suppressor."

	He paused to let that sink in. Not only did that mean that none 
of their planets had electricity, or modern conveniences, but everyone 
would be trapped on those planets, cut off from outside contact.

	"Of the 107 worlds comprising the former Alliance, 102 of them 
have been hit by the suppressor."

	There was a murmur in the room. Most of the participants already 
knew this, but hearing it spoken aloud was still a shock.

	"Five planets remain untouched--Greenfields, Irplo, Erratta, 
Herefor  and Pushkin. A few very small colony worlds survived 
untouched, but most don't have populations greater than a few thousand, 
and no industry to speak of."

	"Of the five untouched planets, all except Irplo are major 
industrialized worlds," said the War Admiral. "But, more crucially, 
only one of them has a shipyard in orbit, Herefor. We have only one 
shipyard throughout the entire Alliance space to build and service our 
ships."

	He paused to let that sink in. "Our ship situation isn't much 
better. Many of our ships were damaged or destroyed in their engagement 
with the large Monumental ship. It is estimated that we have no more 
than 28 combat ready ships, with 44 more so badly damaged as to be 
inoperable. Of those 28, fourteen have varying degrees of damage but 
are functional."

	"Are they being sent to the shipyard on Herefor for repairs?" 
asked Admiral Raymond Landry. He was the highest ranking Admiral in the 
former Directorate fleet. The Directorate had been the copartners with 
the League to form the Alliance. The Directorate had been led by the 
legendary Steven Quick, who was now nowhere to be seen, so Admiral 
Landry was now the senior officer in charge. Technically, all ships, 
Directorate and Alliance, were under the War Admiral's united command, 
but there had been friction in the past between the two.

	"No," said the War Admiral. "We are not sending the damaged ships 
there. Our number one priority is to begin a crash program to build new 
warships. In our present state we could barely handle a single Insect 
fleet without significant risk."

	"What about the shipyard at Quick's secret base?" asked General 
Karn, the defacto ruler of Pushkin. "What about Quick himself?" 

	"Quick is... gone," said the War Admiral. "I don't know where he 
went. We also have no way of contacting the shipyard at the remote 
base. It's so far out it would take years for a message to reach them."

	Quick, with the help of some aliens, had set up a remote base 
many years outside of Alliance space to build up their forces for the 
eventual counterattack against the Insects. But the base was so far 
away that conventional transmissions, much less sending a courier ship, 
would take years. And as for Quick himself he had just gone. How the 
War Admiral wished his brilliant friend were still here.

	"What about these aliens who helped us?" said another officer, 
Admiral Harkness. "Where are they hiding?"

	"We haven't been able to get in touch with them either," said 
North. "It appears, gentlemen, that we're on our own. Our immediate 
concern is to secure the perimeter of Alliance space. It's not an easy 
task with so few ships. The initial reports indicate no sign of Insect 
forces within range of any of our ships."

	"What about this Monumental battleship?" asked Admiral Landry. 
"Is it true it simply turned around and ran away?"

	"Yes," said the War Admiral.

	"Do you have any idea why?" Landry asked.

	The War Admiral shook his head. He remembered the scene vividly. 
He had expected to die on the Glory as he set the ship to self-destruct 
as the giant Monumental ship closed on his position... and then, it had 
simply turned around, left, without further announcement. No one had 
seen the Monumental ship since.

	"We can't count on their sudden good intentions," said Admiral 
Dayja. "They could be massing for another attack."

	"Agreed," said the War Admiral. "That's why I've ordered around 
the clock shifts at Herefor to build new ships. In addition, a number 
of civilian ships survived, and we're looking into whether they can be 
converted into attack vessels."

	"What's the situation with the energy mist?" That came from 
Captain Stacy Wren, the former and soon-to-be-again Captain of the 
Glory. She had been one of the few captains invited to the meeting. She 
was the War Admiral's girlfriend, but that had nothing to do with it; 
the captains of all the few capital ships remaining were present, live 
or in holo.

	"We've modified sensors so we can detect it," said the War 
Admiral. "At least we won't have any more ships running into it 
unaware.  It seems to latch onto the atmosphere of planets where it's 
detonated on, and the surrounding space as well. The mist seems to move 
with the planets as they rotate around the suns. "

	"What's it doing to the population of those planets?" Wren asked.

"Our scientists have done long range scans; as far as we can tell, it 
doesn't have any effect on the people, but it's admittedly hard to 
tell," said the War Admiral. "If it is killing them off in large 
numbers, it doesn't seem to be doing so very quickly. So far as we can 
tell, it only seems to be inhibiting the use of power."

	"How can people survive without power?" another captain asked.

	"People survived without power for thousands of years," said the 
War Admiral. "They would have to revert to a simple agrarian life, and 
it wouldn't be easy, but it's certainly possible."

	"And there's no way to make contact with them?" the captain 
asked.

	"Holosignals don't seem to penetrate the mist, but our scientists 
are still working on it," said the War Admiral. "Our number one 
priority is to guard the five remaining planets, and that's where I've 
deployed the fleet, with our two biggest ships in the best condition, 
the Royal Oak and the Blue Luna, in position to guard the orbital 
shipyard on Herefor. We'll assess the situation further and have 
another meeting in 24 hours. That will be all, gentlemen."



	There was indeed another meeting the following day, and the day 
after that, and then once every few days as it turned out there was 
little new to report. On the five planets they were able to land on 
there were signs of devastation everywhere from two decades of Insect 
occupation; but most of the population and much of the infrastructure 
had survived, and those planets started the painful task of rebuilding.

	The situation was probably much worse on the planets affected by 
the energy mist, but there was no way of assessing their situation, and 
nothing that could be done, aside from long range scans.

	Of the Insects no further sign was seen.  Their spacegates had 
been destroyed, but at least one of their ships, the giant Monumental 
battleship, could still be in the area. But as the days turned into 
weeks without sightings, it seemed that no attack was imminent. The 
Monumental ship had simply... disappeared.



	After two months of emergency repairs the Glory was ready to 
return to duty. The ship was still damaged and it didn't have the 
operational speed or fully functional armament of the old days, but it 
functioned. It could only travel at half its former top speed; two of 
the main turrets and a number of the secondary ones had been knocked 
out; and there was damage everywhere, but the ship could move, and it 
could land, service, and launch fighters once again.

	Several more months passed. The War Admiral pressed Professor 
Stevenson and the other researchers to find a way to neutralize the 
energy mist. But they seemed to have no progress with their goal.

	"Every probe we send into the mist, no matter how well shielded, 
no matter what energy source it uses, is simply neutralized," said 
Stevenson.

	The War Admiral frowned. "It sounds like insulating the energy 
source won't work. But what about finding out ways of dissipating the 
mist?"

	"We're working on it, but to be honest, we don't have a clue," 
said Stevenson. "We don't even know what this energy mist is composed 
of or how it works. Remember that this is a Monumental weapon, and far 
above our technology. We could really use some help from the Monumental 
about now."

	The War Admiral gave a bitter nod. That had been their original 
purpose in striking out from Alliance space, to find Monumental 
technology to use against the Insects. Things hadn't quite worked out 
that way, though they had found the help they needed to overthrow the 
Insects. But where was that help now?

	"Keep working on it, Professor," said the War Admiral.

	As the Professor left his office, the War Admiral got a buzz. 
"Yes?"

	"Sir, we have someone to see you," said Captain Wren. 

	"Who is it?"

	"He claims to be the President of the League," said Wren.

	The President of the League? But Hov Marshall was long since 
dead, killed at the battle of Vitalics.

	"Send him in," said the War Admiral, genuinely curious.

	A middle aged man entered the room. "Ah, War Admiral, finally, so 
good to meet you," said the man, extending a hand.

	The War Admiral just stared at it, and him. "And you are...?"

	"Sorry," said the man, lowering his hand. "I thought I would be 
introduced.  The name is Zorin, Roger Zorin."

	The War Admiral thought quickly. "The Zorin-"

	"No, just a distant relation," said Zorin. "I'm actually deputy 
chief water commissioner of Greenfields."

	"But Captain Wren said-"

	"Ah, yes, President of the League. She should have said 'Interim 
President'," said Zorin. "Are you familiar with the League 
constitution, Admiral?"

	"To a certain degree," said the War Admiral guardedly.

	"Amendment 209(g) states, and I quote 'Should the leadership 
become decapitated, leadership shall devolve to the highest ranking 
executive officeholder.'"

	The War Admiral simply stared at him.

	"Since I am the highest ranking office holder, that makes me 
President," said Zorin.

	"Let me get this straight," said the War Admiral. "You're a water 
commissioner-"

	"Deputy water commissioner-"

	"And because you say you're the highest ranking executive branch 
official remaining, that you deserve to be President."

	"More or less," said Zorin. "It says as much in the Constitution. 
As this is a League ship and you are a League officer, you are sworn to 
obey."

	"I don't know if you've taken a look around lately but the 
Alliance, much less the League, has suffered a slump lately," said the 
War Admiral. "Most Alliance worlds aren't even accessible."

	"But four of the five accessible worlds, with the exception of 
Pushkin, are League worlds, so that makes it my business," said Zorin. 
He gauged North's expression. "I'm not asking to be appointed dictator. 
And the constitution requires new elections to be held within six 
months."

	"Hm....," said the War Admiral. "Let me give it some thought."



	And then, because he did give some thought, he consulted with his 
closest confidants, Captain Stacy Wren and Admiral Roger Dulin.

	"What do you think?" he said.

	"It's a joke," said Wren. "Making a water commissioner President. 
President of what, four ruined worlds? It's a double joke."

	"He does have a constitutional claim," said the War Admiral. 
"I've done some quick checking. So far, on the four League planets we 
can't find any other federally appointed officials who rank as highly. 
Which, after 20 years of occupation, isn't surprising."

	"There really isn't much left of the League," said Wren. "I say 
we should scrap it and start over."

	"I see," said the War Admiral. His eyes flickered to the right. 
"Roger?"

	Dulin frowned. "I agree that his claim is tenuous, but 
acknowledging his claim would help give us legitimacy."

	"Legitimacy?" said Wren. "What kind of legitimacy do we need?"

	"Political legitimacy," said Dulin. "I think he could be of great 
help. Right now we need capable civilian administrators. We're 
soldiers, not administrators-"

	"Speak for yourself," said Wren. She used to be the colony civil 
administrator on Ulos, before she joined the space forces.

	"All right, but most of us aren't," said Dulin. "Just what sort 
of power would we be giving him anyway? Most of his efforts would be 
focused on reconstruction, and chances are that a civilian 
infrastructure could do a better job than we could."

	"My thoughts precisely," said the War Admiral. "I've had 
misgivings about civilian control. Civilian control is what led us into 
this disaster at Vitalics. But we're in a different situation now, and 
we can use all the help we can get. In any event, his appointment would 
only be temporary, until elections are held."

	"And if he gets out of line?" said Wren.

	"We'll see," said the War Admiral.



	Reconstruction continued. There was a celebration when the first 
new ships came off the assembly line at the Herefor shipyards--a pair 
of fast attack destroyers. One of them was named the Suny Blue and put 
under the command of Tens Zender, one of the few captains to escape the 
disaster at Vitalics. He had been in command of another destroyer named 
the Suny Blue, which had been crippled during the battle to liberate 
Alliance space from the Insects, so his new command seemed fitting.

	There continued to be no sign of the Insects. While most of the 
population of the Alliance was trapped on their respective planets, at 
least things were quiet. In fact, things might have gone without 
incident if it weren't for the first of the alien abductions.

	It started on one of the small colony worlds that hadn't been 
touched by the energy mist, ironically named Mistfall, population 402.

	The first thing they knew about it was when they received cries 
for help. An alien attack.

	The Glory herself came to investigate. When they arrived, they 
found not so much of an invasion but a puzzle.

	Aliens had landed on Mistfall. No, not Insects. What did they 
look like? No one knew. They wore silvery looking spacesuits with dark 
faceplates. They were humanoid in form, but if they were human, they'd 
have no need to wear spacesuits in Mistfall's atmosphere. They took 
four colonists by force... and then they left.

	They were still analyzing this report when, two days later, there 
was another report of an abduction from another small colony world.

	This time the Suny Blue happened to be on the scene. It scanned a 
small, cylindrical shaped ship breaking orbit. The Suny Blue moved to 
close in on the ship... and it simply speeded away, at such a quick 
velocity that the Suny Blue seemed to be standing still by comparison.

	The War Admiral, studying holos of the scans of the cylindrical 
ships and the growing reports of the abductions, said, "I think we have 
a problem."





Chapter 8: Search for the Alien Abductors



	"Why me, sir?"

	"You always ask me that, Iday, and I always struggle to come up 
with an answer."

	Command Captain Idaho J. Took was in the War Admiral's private 
office on the Glory.

	"Seriously sir," said Took. "Investigating aliens? I'm a fighter 
pilot. Isn't this a job for internal security, or the Agency?"

	"For all intents and purposes the Agency no longer exists," said 
the War Admiral. "We've been trying to locate any of their agents on 
the four League worlds, but so far haven't had any luck. Someone like 
our mutual friend Clifford Croft would be perfect for this."

	"Where is he, sir?"

	"Our last reports indicated he was on his way to being extracted 
from August when the energy mist hit," said the War Admiral. "He's 
either dead, or trapped there."

	"So why me?" said Took.

	"You've proven your investigative skills in the past," said the 
War Admiral. "We're building a new bureau of investigations, but until 
we have experienced operatives, I'm putting my bets on you. Look into 
the situation and see what you can find out."

	"Where should I begin?" Took asked.

	"You can start at the site of one of the most recent attacks," 
said the War Admiral. "Currents."

	Currents was a small colony world on the other side of Alliance 
space from Mistfall. To demonstrate the seriousness of the situation, 
the War Admiral dispatched Took on one of his most formidable ships, 
the pocket battleship Blue Luna, commanded by the irascible Myster 
Harkness. At Took's request, his wingman Kato Obe accompanied him.

	They took their fighters down to Currents while the Luna stayed 
in orbit.



	"It was awful, Mr. Took," said a middle aged woman named Risa 
Venacular.  "They landed their ship at the edge of town. We walked over 
to have a look, and they just zapped us."

	"Zapped?" said Obe.

	"Some sort of ray. It paralyzed us," said Venacular. "We dropped 
to the ground. We weren't unconscious, but couldn't move. Then those... 
things came over to us."

	"Things?"

	"They were wearing silvery spacesuits. One of them came over... 
and leaned over me." Venacular shivered.

	"What happened then?" Took asked.

	She paused, trying to regain her composure. Took waited 
patiently. 

	Finally, she said, "It was wearing a dark faceplate. I couldn't 
see inside, but it could see me. It stood, staring, inches from my 
face, and there wasn't anything I could do but blink. I.... I.... " She 
continued to shiver.

	"I know this is difficult," said Took. "But we need to know 
everything that happened."

	"He.. it... used some sort of machine that buzzed. Ran it over my 
body. Then it looked at me again, through that faceplate... I felt sure 
it was going to kill me," said Venacular. She stopped speaking again.

	"What happened then?"

	"After a while it stood up, walked away. I heard more sounds of 
walking around, then some screaming."

	"Screaming? I thought you were all paralyzed?"

	"We were," said Venacular. "I couldn't see what was happening. 
But a little while later I heard their ship taking off, and shortly 
after that my muscles started responding again. We all got up, and 
found that three of us were missing."

	Obe nodded. "I have the names here. Is there anything else you 
can tell us?"

	Venacular shook her head, obviously terrified. "What are they, 
Mr. Took? And what do they want with us?"

	"I don't know," said Took. "But we are going to try to find out."



	They walked to the clearing where the ship had landed. An 
investigation team led by Professor Stevenson was scanning intently.

	"What use will that serve?" said Took. "The alien ship is gone. I 
could tell you that without instruments."

	Stevenson gave Took a glare. "We're looking for any chemical or 
spectrometric clues that might help us track the alien ship."

	"And?"

	"So far, nothing," said Stevenson, looking at his scanner. His 
eyebrows raised. "Wait."

	"What?" said Took. 

	"I'm picking up a trail of Kaye particles," said Stevenson.

	"Kaye particles... Kaye particles," said Took, trying to sound 
scholarly. "What are Kaye particles?"

	Stevenson replied without looking up from his scanner. "All you 
need to know is that if these readings check out, we'll be able to use 
them to trace your friends."

	"Not my friends," Took snorted.



	"We've transmitted the readings on these Kaye particles," said 
Took, speaking by holovision to the War Admiral. "The Professor says 
that these kinds of particles tend to decay after a few hours or a few 
days, depending on their concentration, and that may help us catch one 
of these ships."

	"Where does the ship's trail lead?" the War Admiral asked.

	Took shook his head. "It dissipates before it gets out of the 
solar system.

	"Well, keep trying," said the War Admiral. "I'll disperse more 
ships to be on the lookout for these Kaye particles. What else have you 
learned?"

	"Not much, sir," said Took. "I interviewed one of the people who 
had seen them. All we know is that they wear spacesuits like we do, so 
are probably humanoid."

	"But also probably not human. What do you make of their 
intentions?"

	"Abduction is seldom a friendly act in most cultures," said Took. 
"But that's all they seem to be doing, making abductions."

	"Do you think it's a prelude to invasion?" the War Admiral asked.

	"Possibly, but if so they're going about it the wrong way," said 
Took.

	"Explain."

	"The way I see it, if a new race is going to attack us, first of 
all they would scout us out more surreptitiously, without giving 
warning that they're there," said Took. "And secondly, they would scout 
out our military installations. The people they've abducted--in this 
raid a doctor, farmer, agronomist, and an administrator--don't know 
anything that would be useful to invaders."

	"And your conclusion?"

	"They want something from us, but what it is isn't clear," said 
Took. "Also, that scan of the ship you relayed to us... it didn't look 
like any warship. At least, not any warship I recognized. They're 
small, and their speedy."

	"Perhaps they're just advance scouts," said the War Admiral.

	"Maybe," said Took. "But I don't think what they're after are our 
military plans."

	"I would tend to agree," said the War Admiral.

	"Great minds think alike, eh, War Admiral?"

	The War Admiral looked at Took, as if noticing him for the first 
time. "Continue with your investigation, Command Captain."



	Elections were held six month after acting President Zorin was 
sworn in. To no one's surprise, Zorin won. The entire political class 
had been decimated, and although others had run against Zorin, none of 
the voters on the four League planets had heard of any of them. Zorin, 
on the other hand, had used his office to maintain a very public 
profile, and campaigned vigorously to elect other members of the 
legistlature who would support him.

	Since August, the traditional capital, was no longer available, 
the first congress of the new session was held in the cramped planetary 
legislature on Greenfields. (The planetary legislature, in turned, 
bumped the largest national legislature out of its chamber, and so on 
and so on, until the lowest level county legislature down the line was 
forced to expropriate a local holotheater for the duration.)

	Zorin took office promising a speedy rebuilding and generous 
benefits to the weary populace of Greenfields, Irplo, Erratta, and 
Herefor. Pushkin, formerly Sluria, the fifth major planet not currently 
dampened by the mists, didn't figure into this because it was not, 
strictly speaking, an Alliance planet. It was only an associate member 
of the Alliance, having joined when the old Slurian Union had been 
toppled, but was governed independently. After the chaos caused by the 
departure of the Insects, an experienced former Slurian General and 
resistance fighter, Stylus Karn,  had stepped in and now ruled Pushkin.

	And of course the few small colony worlds that escaped the mist 
didn't matter much either, as they didn't have voters, nor full 
planetary status to elect senators. So Zorin had focused his campaign 
on Greenfields, Irplo, Erratta, and Herefor, and it was no surprise 
when elected that he set the seat of government on Greenfields, his 
home planet.

	One of the first acts of the legislature was to extend the term 
of all the politicians from four to six years "in the interests of 
greater stability" and to give themselves retroactive pay raises "to 
help cope with the continuing emergency."

	Revenues began to be collected again and government started to 
spend those revenues and more. Slowly, things were returning to normal. 
Not that normalcy could be restored over night; the industrial bases of 
those four planets had been seriously damaged, and there were constant 
food shortages, though no one starved. But sacrifices had to be made--
for one thing, people had to start working again. No longer could the 
planetary economies afford to have 90% of their population engaged in 
leisure full-time. A 20 hour workweek was instituted, (reduced to 15 
hours when the predictable outcry ensued). 

	

	Finally! After more months of fruitless pursuits, the Blue Luna 
had picked up a fresh Kaye particle trail leading to Irplo. Curiously, 
however, there was no alarm raised from Irplo itself. Had an alien ship 
landed there?

	Admiral Harkness took no chances. The Luna launched its entire 
complement of fighters (it had one squadron) to cast a dragnet in orbit 
while Took, Obe, and a shuttle full of marines headed down. Sensors 
couldn't pinpoint the exact endpoint of the trail of Kaye particles, 
but it seemed to be somewhere on the southern edge of a medium sized 
city called Dula.

	Took and Obe walked around, flanked by the marines. All they got 
in return was curious stares. 

	"Doesn't look like anything going on here," said Obe.

	"Or maybe we caught them before they started snatching people," 
said Took. His eyes took in the scene--buildings, people, swaying 
trees, a flash of silver--there!

	What was that? Between two buildings? Took had only glimpsed it 
for a moment, but it looked like a flash of silver. His eyes could have 
been playing tricks on him. Still...

	"Did you see that?" said Took.

	"See what?" said Obe.

	"Follow me," said Took, pulling his holstered blaster. No sense 
in taking any chances.

	He and Obe entered the small alley, their weapons drawn. Down the 
alley Took saw a banner, suspended by a wire, flapping in the breeze. 
The banner was silver colored.

	Obe looked at Took skeptically.

	Took looked at Obe.

	And then, a block down in front of them, they saw it.

	A silvery figure, in the middle of the alley. Standing there, 
just staring at them.

	Took fired his blaster into the air to alert the marines. But by 
the time he was done firing the silvery figure was gone. He and Obe 
took off at a run after it.

	They caught a glimpse of silver as they reached the corner. 
Looking left, they saw three silvery figures, two of them dragging 
something around a far corner.

	Took and Obe followed. As they ran closer they felt a rumble and 
heard a hum. When they reached the corner they found themselves on the 
edge of a park. And in the park was a cylindrical shaped ship. Two 
bodies were being dragged into it.

	Took yelled, and fired his blaster. He was still too far to hit 
anything, but he hoped maybe that would scare the aliens.

	One of the aliens coolly looked at him (at least, it seemed he 
did--with those black visors it was hard to tell), raised an odd 
looking device, and Took felt/heard vibrations ripple over his head. 
Took and Obe hit the ground, still firing.

	The aliens, not apparently concerned, leisurely walked into their 
ship. The hatch closed. A few seconds later, the ship started to take 
off.....

	"Hurry, back to the fighters!" said Took.

	But it was over almost as they had taken off. The ship zoomed out 
of the atmosphere giving the orbiting fighters a scant two seconds to 
get a weapons lock and fire. And by the time the Luna was bearing down 
on it, it was gone, halfway out of the system.

	Later, after they had been debriefed, Took and Obe reflected on 
what had happened.

	"That was pretty creepy," said Took. "I wonder what they're doing 
with all those people?"

	"I don't think I want to guess," Obe muttered.



	"Moderate revenue enhancement measures," said the War Admiral, 
reading the press release. "But why can't they simply say 'raising 
taxes'?"

	"It's idiotic," snorted Wren. "The economy is in shambles. This 
is a time to raise taxes?"

	"To fund the social welfare net," said the War Admiral. "And it 
looks like they're expanding the credit supply like mad. I had worried, 
for a brief time, that after the occupation that politicians might have 
forgotten how to govern. I can see now that I had nothing to worry 
about."

	"Seriously, Zorin is going to ruin the economy," said Wren. "I 
used to be a colonial administrator, remember? I know how fragile 
economies can be."

	"What do you suggest I do, tell him to repeal the tax hikes?" 
said the War Admiral. "I don't think that's going to get us anywhere." 
He changed the subject. "I'm more concerned about these alien attacks. 
They've now attacked seven times on five different planets. We can't 
seem to catch their ships in space, which means we have to catch them 
in the act on the ground."

	"Is Took having any luck?"

	"Not much," said the War Admiral. "But he can't be everywhere at 
once. I've tried to coordinate with the other ground forces, but 
they're quick--they come in, they grab some people, and they get out. 
If it weren't for the Kaye particle traces, we wouldn't be able to even 
get close to them in time."

	"Let's look at the bigger picture," said Wren. "They've abducted, 
what, about 30 people? That's not great, but we've got millions of 
people who are fighting just to keep everything together, not counting 
the untold billions who are trapped on their own planets without 
power."

	"You're right," said the War Admiral. He changed the subject. 
"I've looked at the latest reports on the energy mist. Our progress is 
not encouraging."

	"There is no progress," said Wren. "Stevenson and the others 
don't have a clue. I wish Quick were here."

	"Quick was brilliant, but he was no scientist," said the War 
Admiral. "I'm not sure even a Gary Topol or a Levi Esherkol could 
figure this out."

	"What about Quick's alien friends?"

	"We don't know how to get in touch with them," said the War 
Admiral. "Well, with most of them."

	"Most of them?" said Wren quickly.

	"There is one," said the War Admiral. "But he doesn't want to 
help."

	"Doesn't want to?"

	"Keep in mind, Stacy, that these are aliens, each with their own 
agendas. Theirs and ours may overlap for a time, but they're not 
identical," said the War Admiral. "No, we're going to have to figure 
out how to get out of this on our own, somehow."



	If Took thought the sight of humans being dragged into alien 
spaceships was unsettling, he was not prepared for the sight of what he 
saw at the site of the next alien abduction. They arrived just after it 
happened. But this time, instead of weeping bystanders, they were also 
greeted by a new site.

	Four bodies.

	Two from each of the first two abductions. Covered with sheets 
until the medical examiner arrived.

	"I don't think you want to look at that, sir," said one of the 
local soldiers.

	"You're probably right," said Took, moving past the soldier. He 
lifted the sheet.

	The bodies were more or less intact, but the heads had been 
sliced, each in different ways. One looked like it had been cut by a 
meat slicer. Another was in chunks. Another-

	Took had to turn away violently to avoid wretching on the bodies.



	"I've seen the medical examiners report. Awful," said the War 
Admiral simply.

	"Yes sir," said Took. Obe stood besides him.

	"But at least we know what they're up to," said North. "We're 
nothing more than lab rats for them."

	"Yes sir," said Took.

	The hologram of the War Admiral seemed to consider for a moment. 
Then he said, "Aside from the obvious physical mutilations, there may 
be more that can be learned. I'm having the bodies transferred to 
Doctor Farb here on the Glory. Maintain your investigation."

	"Yes sir," said Took.

	He stood at attention as the image faded, only slouching when the 
War Admiral's image was gone.

	"What does he need me for?" said Took, speaking mostly to 
himself. "All I ever do is say 'Yes Sir'."

	"But you do it so well," said Obe, giving a rare grin.



	The War Admiral contacted them by holo a week later. Doctor Farb 
had uncovered some interesting findings.

	"They weren't merely dissected, they were experimented on," said 
the War Admiral.

	"What do you mean?" Took asked.

	"Every cell in their skin showed evidence of trauma on a 
molecular level. I don't know if you noticed, but their skin color was 
a bright white," said North. "That was symptomatic of the trauma."

	"Did this... trauma kill them?"

	"Doctor Farb doesn't think so," said the War Admiral. "But they 
did show obvious signs of having experiments performed on them."

	"What kind of experiments? Trying to find our weak points?" said 
Took.

	"Possible," said the War Admiral. "Or maybe they're trying to 
find a cure for a disease. Either way, using our people for lab rats 
isn't acceptable."

	"We'll keep up the search, sir."

	"Good," said the War Admiral. "North out."



	They continued the investigation. But it was only two weeks later 
that they came up with a finding that made their jaws drop. Took was so 
surprised that he had the sensor officer on the Blue Luna check it 
twice. But there was no mistake.



	He signaled the War Admiral immediately.

	"Yes?" said the War Admiral's holoimage.

	"Sir... we've detected a Kaye particle trace coming from one of 
our planets..."

	"You called just to tell me that?" said the War Admiral. "Did you 
pursue it?"

	"No sir."

	"Why not?"

	"The trail was coming from Whenfor."

	Whenfor. One of the Alliance planets that had been hit by the 
energy mist. And an alien ship had apparently effortlessly gone in 
there, landed, taken captives, and left. 

	The War Admiral understood the implications immediately. "Their 
ships are immune to the energy mist." His mind was racing. "With that 
kind of technology, they might even know how to dissipate the energy 
mist." He faced Took eye to eye. "It's more vital than ever that you 
capture one of those alien ships. Restoring the freedom of our planets 
may depend on it."

	"Yes sir. Oh, and sir?"

	"Yes?"

	"Is there any way you can put any additional pressure on me?" 
Took asked. "I could really use more."

	The War Admiral waved his hand dismissively. "Get going, Iday," 
he said, as his image faded.

	



Chapter 9:  The Loss of Obe



	"I  hardly find corruption to be surprising," said the War 
Admiral.

	"On this scale?" said Captain Wren. "Public works projects are 
awarded at enormous prices to Zorin's buddies."

	"Standard."

	"20% of the revenue collected has simply disappeared!"

	"A little overenthusiastic," the War Admiral admitted.

	"And holoreporters who are uncovering these details have been 
arrested."

	"That's going a bit over the line," said the War Admiral. "Let me 
read the report on it and speak to him."

	The War Admiral did, and then he attempted to make contact with 
President Zorin. But the League President was busy; a flunkie offered 
to take a message. 

	Grinding his teeth, the War Admiral asked to schedule an 
appointment. The flunkie indicated that there was a five minute opening 
three weeks from now and should he write the War Admiral in?

	"Not necessary," said the War Admiral. "The invaders will be 
firmly in place on Greenfields by then."

	"Invaders?"

	"Yes," said the War Admiral. "Could you just pass along a 
message? That invaders typically target offices of government 
administration. Could you do that? Thank you."

	"Wait!" said the flunkie. "Let me get him." He pressed a button. 
"Get me the Capitol lounge, and hurry!"

	In a moment the holoimage of Zorin appeared on the screen. He was 
wearing a polo outfit and was in the process of removing a boot.

	"What's this about an invasion, War Admiral?"

	"I don't know," said the War Admiral.

	"My assistant mentioned something about an invasion."

	"I was speaking in hypotheticals, perhaps he misunderstood," said 
the War Admiral.

	Zorin glared at him. "Was there something you wanted? I'm very 
busy."

	"I can see that," said the War Admiral smoothly. "It's come to my 
attention that you've been arresting journalists."

	"I don't see why that should come to your attention," said Zorin. 
"That's hardly a military matter."

	"I thought you were going to preserve the liberties we've become 
accustomed to," said North.

	"Look around you, War Admiral, does the situation look normal?" 
said Zorin. "Our economy is still in shambles. Ninety-five percent of 
our worlds are inaccessible. Emergency measures are sometimes needed, 
to ensure stability."

	"I think by arresting journalists you may not get the stability 
you're looking for," said the War Admiral.

	"Are you threatening me, War Admiral?" said Zorin.

	"No," said the War Admiral. "What I meant is that you may lose 
the confidence of the populace. Bad public relations and all that"

	Zorin relaxed. "Oh. I see what you mean. Well, I had no idea that 
anyone was being detained. Perhaps it was the overzealous action of one 
of my subordinates."

	"Of course."

	"I'll look into it, War Admiral," he said.

	The War Admiral nodded, and Zorin cut the connection.

	Captain Wren, who had been standing just outside the range of the 
pickup, said, "He didn't used to be like that. In the first six months 
before the election, he was much more... subdued."

	"That was before he solidified his hold on power," said the War 
Admiral. He sighed. "I think this may be the beginning of trouble."

	"I've only been saying that for what, over a year now?" said 
Wren.



	"I don't know, Obe, how can we possibly predict it?" said Took. 
He and Obe were eating in the messhall on the Blue Luna. 

	"They always seem to get the jump on us," said Obe. "The only way 
to catch them is to be there before they strike."

	"Swell," said Took. "There are a little over 100 planets in the 
Alliance. Most we can't even land on because of the energy mist."

	"That's not true," said Obe. "There are a number of small colony 
worlds that have also been attacked."

	"And how do you propose to find which one to go to?" said Took. 
"By the time we spot a Kaye trail, they're already on their way out."

	"Gee Mr. Took, I couldn't help but overhear your problem," said a 
new voice.

	They turned to see Billy Holiday, kid genius. He was actually no 
longer a kid, but still talked like one. He was currently posted to the 
Blue Luna as a troubleshooter, working on upgrades to the ship's 
computer.

	"Yes, Billy, I don't see why I didn't come to you sooner," said 
Took. "We have a problem. We have to figure out which of 150 planets 
the aliens are going to attack next that doesn't have the energy mist 
surrounding us. Can you get us the answer by dinner?"

	Billy considered. "Gee, I don't know, it sounds a bit complex. 
Would tomorrow morning be ok?"

	Took looked at Obe, who looked back at him. Then both looked at 
Billy.

	"You're kidding, right?" said Took.

	"Just give me the data," said Billy. "I'll see what I can come up 
with."

	So they gave Billy the data about the victims and the planets 
where the abductions had occurred.

	They were just getting ready for dinner when Billy came up to 
them. 

	"Hey Billy, got the answer already?" said Took sarcastically.

	"Gee Mr. Took, how did you know?" said Billy.

	"You can't be serious," said Took.

	"Come with me," said Billy.

	He took them to the computer room, and punched up a series of 
starcharts. 

	"See, they hit there, and there, and there. There's a logarithmic 
pattern to it."

	"Huh?" said Took.

	Billy pushed a series of buttons, and sure enough, he had turned 
the incursions into a predictable mathematical equation.

	"It's all a function of location, size of the colony, kind of 
atmosphere, and location of previous attack," said Billy.

	"How reliable is this... equation?"

	"Well, gee, it predicted all the previous attacks."

	"Well, that's something," said Took. "But what about future 
ones?"

	"The next attack will be here," said Billy, pointing a bony 
finger at a small colony world named Chach. "But you have only two 
days. Can you guys get there-" he turned around, but Took and Obe were 
gone.

	The Luna headed at full speed to Chach. Harkness yelled at the 
chief engineer every several hours to go even faster. He even 
threatened to put Billy in charge of engineering if they didn't get to 
Chach in time. Harkness knew from experience how reliable Billy could 
be.

	When they finally got to Chach, Took and Obe were launching even 
before they were at extreme range.

	But their sensors, keyed to the Kaye particles, detected nothing. 
Had they gotten there before the aliens? Or were the aliens simply not 
coming?

	They got their answer just as they reached orbit, with the alien 
ship zooming past the Blue Luna towards the planet, where Took and Obe 
were already in orbit.

Took and Obe maneuvered their Wildcat 150-B's to intercept, though Took 
knew it was futile. What they needed now was the Ken Pilot; he would 
have the reflexes to shoot down that thing. Where was the Ken Pilot? 
Probably trapped on Graftonite like all the other maniac gunslingers.

	The alien ship slowed down as it entered the upper atmosphere. 
Maybe they would have a chance to take a shot at it.

	Took and Obe closed on the alien ship. But then, just as they got 
within maximum weapon's range in the upper atmosphere, a bright light 
stabbed out at them, illuminating  Obe's ship.

	"Obe? Obe?" said Took over the comm. There was no answer. Took 
locked weapons on target. He fired at extreme range, and missed. 

	And then there was a light filling his cockpit. He heard a 
strange pitched whine. The light was very bright. And then he couldn't 
move.

	And then he was somewhere else. In a room, tied down on a 
laboratory chair. Aliens in silver spacesuits with dark face platings 
were walking towards him, carrying lethal looking objects in their 
hands.

	They moved around his table. One of them reached out and passed a 
device over his face. It gave off a high intensity whine, so loud that 
Took wanted to cover his ears, but he couldn't-

	"Took! Took! Level off!"

	Took blinked and found himself back in the cockpit, and a large 
mountainous landmass ahead of him. He banked up sharply, and just 
missed a peak, scraping some trees in the forest.

	"What happened?" Took gasped.

	"They had you in that light after they turned it off of me," said 
Obe. "I fired at them, which I think forced them to turn off the beam."

	"But I was in the upper atmosphere... how long was the light on 
me?"

	"A few minutes."

	A few minutes? It had only been on Obe for a few seconds.

	"Did you hit it?"

	"No, but I got some near misses," said Obe. "It's pretty nimble. 
It's landed now, and I have a position on it."

	"Then let's go," said Took.

	Perhaps because Chach colony was so small, one town on the entire 
planet they found themselves greeted by what security forces there were 
upon landing.

	"We're responding to your call," said their leader, a bearded man 
named Ircan. "Are there really aliens out there?"

	"Believe me, you don't want to find out firsthand," said Took 
grimly. "Let's go."

	They walked through the village, heading towards where Obe 
thought the alien ship had landed. But Chach was a lush jungle planet; 
an alien ship could hide a few dozen feet in any direction and avoid 
detection. 

	"I'm picking up a large metal concentration that way," said Obe, 
using his scanner.

	"Let's go," said Took.

	They fanned out, forming a line. Ircan only had a dozen men with 
him. Took hoped that would be enough. It would take at least a half 
hour for reinforcements to get down to the planet surface from the 
Luna.

	Took walked through the jungle, alert to any noise. The problem 
was that the jungle was so teeming with wildlife that there was noise 
in just about every direction. Suddenly he caught a flash in the 
distance, as if the sunlight had reflected off of something bright.

	Took caught Ircan's eye, and made an encirclement gesture with 
his hands. He did the same with Obe, who was on the other side of him.

	They started forward. If they could flank the enemy, maybe they 
could even capture one of them. 

	Suddenly, a silvery shape stepped out from behind a tree. It 
fired some kind of weapon, just as Took ducked behind a tree. He felt 
sudden vibrations from the tree, as if something had just given it a 
shaking.

	When the vibrations suddenly stopped he stepped out from behind 
cover, firing even before he locked onto a target. His streaming 
blaster fire caused the alien to seek cover.

	They continued trading fire for several minutes. Took wondered 
where Ircan's men were. Then, to his far right, he saw them, slowly 
encircling the alien.

	The alien did too. It started to fall back.

	Ircan's men unleashed a blistering blaster assault. But the alien 
fired its ray gun, forcing them to keep down. They pressed the attack 
as best they could, while the alien worked its way back to its ship.

	Before the alien reached the ramp, they saw another alien appear 
from around the side of the ship, dragging a body. They fired at the 
alien, but it was too nimble, pulling the body inside the ramp. And 
then the other alien ran in, and the ramp closed.

	Their sizzling blaster fire resounded against the hull. They 
heard a loud roar, and the ship started to take off.

	"Back to the ship, Obe!" Took yelled. He looked around. 

	"Obe?"

	It took him five minutes of looking to convince himself.

	Obe was gone.

	That was the body they had dragged on to their ship.



	By the time Took had returned to his fighter it was all over. The 
alien ship had evaded pursuit. They tried following its Kaye particle 
trail, but that gave out after two days. It was as if the aliens knew 
they were following the trail and could dim their emissions when 
needed. Perhaps they only needed to move more slowly to do so.



	"Don't blame yourself, Iday," said the holoimage of the War 
Admiral.

	"I don't seem to have gotten anywhere," said Took. "I've been 
investigating this for nearly two years, and the only thing I've 
managed to accomplish is to lose my best friend."

	"Don't be harsh on yourself," said the War Admiral. "I have other 
investigative teams in the fields and none of them have managed to 
uncover a fraction of the leads you have." He paused.

	"Yeah," said Took. "Sir, I request permission to resign from this 
investigation."

	"Permission denied," said the War Admiral. He considered. "You'll 
need a replacement for Lieutenant Obe. I have just the ticket, and I'm 
sending her over in a long-range Trobadore-B."

	"Sir-"

	"Keep on it, Took. I'm not taking no for an answer." Without 
waiting for a response, the image of the War Admiral faded.

	"Swell," said Took.

	Took restrained himself from thinking about the loss of Obe. 
Loss. Was Obe dead? Dissected?

	No time to think about that, he told himself. Every minute could 
count now.

	He went to see Billy Holiday, and asked him a single question.

	"Currents," said Holiday.

	"Are you sure? They've already hit there twice," said Took.

	"That's what the mathematical model says," said Holiday. "Gee, 
are you ok?"

	Took called the bridge and ordered them to set course. Then he 
allowed himself the luxury of collapsing into a chair.

	"You look bad," said Holiday. "I'm sorry about what happened to 
your friend."

	Took, his face in his hands, nodded.

	"If you have time, I want to tell you about another pattern I 
noticed."

	Took, his face in his hands, didn't respond.

	"I mean, gee, I just thought you might be interested, you're 
always running off before I can tell you everything-"

	"All right," said Took, his face still in his hands.

	"I noticed a pattern in the abductions."

	"Really?" said Took, not really interested.

	"I mean, gee, they used to abduct a cross section of people, 
based on age, gender, and profession."

	Took didn't respond.

	"And now they're focusing on one kind of people," said Billy. 
"Professionals, mostly. Smart people. No more farmers or laborers. I'll 
have to factor your friend in, but he was pretty smart too, wasn't he?"

	Took nodded, and then suddenly he looked up. He thought back to 
the alien probe in the Wildcat. They had been probing his mind. They 
had probed his mind for several minutes; while they had only probed Obe 
for several seconds.

	Maybe they were more interested in him than they were in Obe. 
Maybe they meant to capture him and got Obe instead. Maybe if he 
persisted they would capture him next. Maybe they would dissect him.



	Obe blinked as consciousness returned. He was strapped to a 
table. There were weird sensors taped all over his body, and a nasty 
looking device strapped to his chin. To his right he could see a glass 
partition, where someone else was strapped into a chair. Beyond the 
other room was a door with a large window built into it. From there he 
could see two of the silvery figures.

	They still wore spacesuits, even here? They must be inside one of 
the aliens' bases or spaceships. Why would they still wear spacesuits 
here? They could tailor any atmosphere to suit them. It didn't make 
sense.

	One of the silvery figures stared at him, or maybe they stared at 
the figure across the partition. It was hard to tell with that darkened 
visor. Obe wondered what they looked like under the visor. What were 
they hiding?

	There was a sound of a faint hiss. At first Obe thought it was 
coming from within the room, but he realized it was from the room next 
door, where the other fellow was strapped in. They were pumping some 
sort of gas in.

	From his limited vantage point he could see the person in the 
chair strain against his bonds. His body started to convulse and then 
he went limp.

	They had killed him! Gassed him!

	And then the man in the chair stirred. He looked around coldly, 
first at his captors, then at Obe. He seemed like a different person.

	The silvery figures seemed to turn some controls. There was a 
spark as the device on the man's head cackled. Then his body glowed 
with sparks, and he began to scream....



	Took blinked as he regained consciousness. He had had a nightmare 
about Obe being tortured. But the voice that was calling him was quite 
real.

	"Took? Captain Took?"

	Took opened his eyes, to see a very attractive woman standing 
over him. "Huh?" he said.

	"I'm sorry to wake you, but I thought you were going to meet me 
in the landing bay. I had to find my way here," said the woman.

	"Uh?"

	"Are you quite all right, Captain Took?" said the woman.

	Took started to sit up, realized he was shirtless, and grabbed 
his shirt, glaring at the woman. "You must be...."

	"Onnica Purser," she said, extending a hand.

	Took automatically shook her hand, and the shirt dropped. He 
picked it up again.

	"Don't worry, Captain, the simple sight of a man's chest doesn't 
distract me in the slightest," she said.

	The War Admiral had sent her. The memory came flooding back to 
her.

	"Seen more in what sense?" said Took, still feeling groggy as he 
put the shirt on.

	"In my work for the Agency."

	The Agency. The War Admiral hadn't told Took very much about the 
"help" he was sending, besides the name. "I thought you guys, ah, gals, 
were all gone?"

	"Not all gone," said Purse. "There's a few of us that the bugs 
managed to miss on Greenfields."

	"Lucky for us," said Took, groaning as he got up.

	"Are you quite up to this, Captain?" said Purser.

	"Yeah, yeah I am," said Took.

	"Good," said Pursuer. "We're due to arrive at Currents in five 
hours. I expect you'll bring me up to speed so I can make proper 
decisions."

	"Of course," said Took automatically. Then he actually thought 
about it. "But you won't have to worry about the decision making part, 
since I'm in charge of this investigation."

	"You?" said Purser. She permitted herself to look amused. "I have 
to admit, Captain, you've done relatively well, for a star forces 
pilot. But I'm a professional-"

	"-professional nudge," said Took, finally feeling the blood 
moving in his body again. "Advise all you like, but I'm in charge until 
I hear otherwise from the War Admiral."

	"All right, we'll be partners," said Purser, and at that moment 
Took knew that she hadn't had any authority to take control of the 
investigation. 

	"Partners," Took agreed, getting up. "Except this partner makes 
the decisions." He started walking away.

	"Where are you going? Aren't you going to brief me?"

	"Uh, I am," said Took. "But the managing partner has voted to go 
for a steaming hot cup of gauche, first."



	They arrived at Currents, flanked by a half dozen warships. 
Though the fleet still numbered only little more than 30 ships, the War 
Admiral had assigned them additional forces to aid in the hunt.

	The seven ships orbited around the tiny colony world. There were 
actually more people in orbit than there were on the planet.

	And then they sat, and waited. And waited.

	"When was this landing supposed to occur, Billy?" Took asked.

	"Gee, about two hours ago, Mr. Took," said Billy.

	"Two hours ago," said Took hollowly.

	"Sir!" said the comm officer. "Getting a report of an alien raid, 
on Herefor."

	"Herefor?" Harkness snapped. Since that was where their only 
shipyard was located, it was the most heavily defended planet in 
Alliance space. "And?"

	The comm officer listened to the report. "They kidnapped five 
people, and got away."

	Harkness shook his head. "We need to come up with new tactics." 
He turned and glared at Billy, and then at Took, just for good measure.



	In the corridor outside the bridge, Took asked, "What went wrong, 
Billy?"

	"Gee, I don't know, Mr. Took, they weren't following pattern."

	"Maybe something has happened to change their pattern," said 
Took, remembering his own mental interrogation.

	"Maybe," said Holiday. "Let me get the details of this attack and 
try to factor them in."

	"You do that," said Took. 

	He started walking away, but Purser caught up to him. "Where are 
you going?"

	"To bed," said Took.

	"Are you really going to rely on this child, who has just failed 
us?" said Purser.

	"Do you have any other ideas?" said Took.

	"We should go over the data again," said Purser.

	"Good idea," said Took. "I'll view the information from my 
holopillow."



	"Redeploy the fleet?" said the War Admiral. It was three days 
after the attack on Herefor; the aliens had launched a subsequent 
attack on Greenfields, and abducted eight people.

	"We are under attack!" said Zorin. "We need the fleet to protect 
the seat of government."

	Meaning that Zorin himself wanted more protection.

	"Mr. President, I understand your reaction," said the War 
Admiral. "But we need the fleet dispersed if we're to have any hope of 
locating one of these alien ships. If the entire fleet is here at 
Greenfields, the aliens will be able to plunder the other planets at 
will."

	"It seems like they've already been able to do that," said Zorin.

	The War Admiral worked at keeping his temper. "The fleet is only 
at a fraction of its size-"

	"And you only have a fraction of our planets requiring defense!" 
said Zorin.

	"-and the aliens' technology is far in advance of our own. 
They're so fast that they're in and out of there almost before we can 
get a weapons' lock," said the War Admiral.

	"I don't need excuses, War Admiral. If you can't lead, I'll find 
someone who can," snapped Zorin. He looked challengingly at the War 
Admiral for a response.

	The War Admiral said nothing, but stared at him, long and 
intensely.

	Zorin withered under his gaze, as if he had been hit by a blow. 
"I will not be threatened!" he said.

	"I will deploy several more ships to Greenfields," said the War 
Admiral.

	"Battleships! I want battleships!" said Zorin.

	"We don't have many battleships, plural. But I will send the 
Majestic there," said the War Admiral.

	"Very well," said Zorin. "But I want you to do something about 
this situation."

	"I'm starting to realize that it requires more of my attention," 
said the War Admiral, though he was purposely ambiguous about what he 
was referring to.

	After Zorin's image faded, the War Admiral sat in silence for a 
long time. Then he punched a button.

	"Stacy?"

	"Yes, War Admiral?"

	"Get me munitions. And then Admiral Harkness and Iday Took, in 
that order."



	"They left behind several more people on Greenfields," said 
Purser.

	"People? You mean bodies," said Took.

	"I mean people," said Purser, showing him the report.

	Took looked at it. The aliens had released several of their 
abductees even as they had taken new ones on Greenfields. 

	But they were all severely brain damaged. None of them could talk 
about their experiences. In fact, almost none of them could talk at 
all. They were all babbling idiots. The only one who could say 
intelligible words could only yell "The Chair! The Chair!" at the top 
of his lungs, but no one could figure out what he was talking about.

	"Permanent brain damage," said Purser grimly. "And they all show 
the same sign of cellular abrasion. It's as if someone has run some 
kind of current through their body."

	"Would that account for brain damage?"

	"No," said Purser. "Whatever they're doing to the people's 
brains, it's something more intensive."

	"I wonder why they're returning the people after they're done 
with them?"

	"Perhaps to scare us, to hurt our morale," said Purser.

	"No," said Took. "I don't think they care about us. If they care 
about hurting us, why didn't they attack the shipyard at Herefor while 
they were there?"

	"Then what other reason could there be?" said Purser. "Out of 
kindness, returning the people when they were done with them?"

	"I don't think there's much we can ascribe to kindness," said 
Took. "There's a purpose to it, as just as there's a purpose to 
everything they do."

	They continued their pursuit of the aliens. Billy couldn't get 
his mathematical formula working again.

	"It's as if they know what we're doing, and have adopted another 
pattern, or a non-pattern," said Billy.

	"Don't blame yourself," said Took. "It's amazing that you managed 
to track them once."

	"No, there's something else," said Billy. "A pattern within a 
pattern. I'm sure of it. I just have to figure it out."

	"Whatever," said Took dully. The entire investigation bored him. 
The results were always the same. They had been reduced to interviewing 
bystanders after attacks. What use did that do? Not much.

	Purser berated him for his care-free attitude. "I hoped you would 
show a bit more interest in your work."

	"I'll show more interest when there's something to show more 
interest in," said Took. "I'm smart enough to acknowledge that we're at 
a dead-end."

	"But not smart enough to figure your way out of it," said Purser.

	"Let's wait a bit, and see," said Took.



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



	Obe found himself shaking. He had been poked and prodded for a 
very long time--days, weeks, it was hard to tell. But now he was 
strapped to the chair with the device under his chin. Through the 
window he could see the two silver suited aliens, staring at him 
through their dark faceplates. He wondered what they were doing.

	Then he heard a hissing sound in the background. He tried to hold 
his breath, but he couldn't, not for very long. The spacesuited aliens 
watched expectantly.

	When he took a breath, his head felt fuzzy. He tried to grab his 
head, but his hands were tied down. He felt consciousness fading... and 
then everything became perfectly clear.

	Obe turned and stared cunningly at the silvery aliens. Nodding, 
one of them pressed another button. An arc of electricity came out of 
the chair, coursing through his entire body. But then the device below 
his chin activated, and that's when he couldn't help but scream....



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



	"A breathing tax?" said the War Admiral.

	"To support the environment," said Wren critically.

	"I've heard of selling air bottles in domed environments, but 
this is ridiculous," said the War Admiral.

	"Another source of moderate revenue enhancement," said Wren. "Did 
you read about the arrests in the latest intel report?"

	The War Admiral nodded.

	"I guess that's a form of moderate dissident containment," said 
Wren. "That is, if you define dissidents as journalists, dissenting 
politicians, and anyone else who becomes inconvenient."

	"Somehow I think another talk with Zorin isn't going to help," 
said the War Admiral.

	"I don't think talking will help at all," said Wren.

	"Then what do you propose?"

	Wren was silent.

	"A coup," said the War Admiral. "That's all right, you can say 
it. As you well know, I've been kicking myself for the past twenty 
years for not staging one right before the armistice. If I had, the 
tragedy at Vitalics might never have happened."

	Wren stayed purposefully silent.

	"But this isn't Vitalics. The future of the Alliance isn't at 
stake," said the War Admiral.

	"Isn't it?" said Wren. "Did you read the text of the latest 
Emergency Powers Act? They've assumed near dictatorial powers."

	The War Admiral frowned. "Let me try talking to Zorin again."

	"It isn't going to get you anywhere," Wren predicted.

	She turned out to be right.



	"Really, War Admiral, this is none of your affair," said Zorin. 
"Last I checked, your responsibilities were exclusively military."

	"And protection of the democratically elected government," said 
the War Admiral. "Last I checked,  the government had become markedly 
less democratic."

	"Nonsense! We will have elections, in another four years on 
schedule," said Zorin. "Assuming that future security measures aren't 
needed, of course."

	"Emergency measures such as suspending freedom of the press, and 
arresting anyone who opposes your regime?"

	"Enemies of the state must be dealt with," said Zorin. He wet his 
lips. "Are you tired, War Admiral?"

	"Tired?"

	"You've been soldiering for a long time. Have you ever considered 
an extended rest, or even retirement?"

	"No, I have not considered retirement," said the War Admiral.

	"Well, I just offer it as a friendly suggestion, if you would 
like others to help you carry the burden," said Zorin. He cut the 
signal and his signal faded.

	His friendly suggestion. Zorin would replace the War Admiral in a 
minute if he could. But although he had the legal authority to do so, 
there would be a political uproar, and perhaps a mutiny, if he tried 
it, and Zorin knew it. No, Zorin would bide his time.

	The War Admiral sighed. He was starting to think he'd have to do 
something about Zorin. But what, short of radical action, could he do?



	"I tell you, they're going to be on Erratta," said Took.

	"And I tell you that we should go to Tella," said Purser. "That's 
where all our top minds say they'll strike next."

	"Well, my top mind says we should go to Erratta," said Took.

	"The boy?"

	"The boy, as you so quaintly call him, isn't a boy, and he has 
created more scientific wonders than you'll ever know about."

	"This is not about tinkering with devices, it's about 
intelligence-"

	"of which Billy has a lot of-"

	"Intelligence as in covert operations-" said Purser.

	"All right, all right," said Took. He appeared to soften. "Want 
to flip for it?"

	"Flip for it?"

	Took took out an old-fashioned coin. "Heads we follow my advice; 
tails we don't follow yours. Call for it!" He spun the coin into the 
air.

	Purser was still digesting what he said when the coin landed on 
his hand. "Heads!" called Took, just before it landed. He looked at the 
coin. "Well, what do you know? It's tails! You win," he said. He went 
to the comm. "Set a course for Erratta, top speed."

	"Do you actually think you're funny?" said Purser.

	"Yes, and especially with hard to please audiences," said Took.



	They got to Erratta just before the alien ship arrived. That gave 
them time they needed to deploy the War Admiral's newest weapon. The 
Blue Luna seeded the upper atmosphere with a series of explosives. The 
Luna was laying the last of them just as the alien ship arrived.

	Took looked over at Purser. "See, I told you they'd come!" said 
Took triumphantly. "But noooo, you said we had to Tella!"

	"Quiet!" said Harkness, glaring at him from his command chair. 
"This is a military operation!"

	"What am I, chopped beef?" said Took.

	"Security!" said Harkness.

	Two guards stepped forward. "If Mr. Took speaks again before this 
operation is complete, shoot him."

	Took looked at the serious guards flanking him. He opened his 
mouth to ask if they would really shoot him, but one of the guards 
shook his head as if to say that would be a bad idea. Took closed his 
mouth again.

	"Status!" Harkness barked.

	"We've cleared the atmosphere," said the helmsman.

	"Weapons!"

	"They're approaching the atmosphere, engaging atmospheric 
breaking," said the officer. "Either they haven't seen the mines, or 
they're ignoring them."

	Harkness eyed the schematic on the holoscreen charting the 
progress of the alien ships and the positions of the mines.

	"Get ready... ready..... detonate cluster four, now!"

	There was a large blip on the screen as a group of mines 
exploded. The cylindrical ship wobbled on the monitors, then pitched 
about crazily. It started to fall into the atmosphere. It was going to 
crash!

	"Don't just stand there, scramble!" Harkness barked.

	Took left the bridge in a hurry. He launched just a few moments 
after the other of the Luna's fighters did, despite the fact that they 
were already on standby at the launch bay.

	Once he cleared the ship he radioed in. "Status?"

	"It crash landed on the northern continent. We're feeding you the 
coordinates now," said the comm officer. "We're sending a shuttle down 
with an assault team. Maintain air superiority but do not-"

	"Yeah, yeah," said Took. He arrived at the crash site first, 
despite the fact that the other fighters had launched before him. A 
flyby showed that the alien ship had crashed in a field, on the edge of 
a forest. 

	The field had some relatively flat grasslands. Perfect.

	There was a new crackle over the comm. "Took, you are not to 
land," came Harkness's voice. "Took?"

	Took set down his ship. Never in all his years of pursuing the 
aliens did they have a chance like this, and he wasn't about to let it 
slip through his fingers by waiting. As he climbed out of his Wildcat 
150-B he saw the alien ship smoldering in the distance through the tall 
grass. 

	As he marched closer he noticed a silvery shape exiting the ship. 
It saw him running through the grass and raised its weapon. Took 
ducked, and felt/heard vibrations in the air above him. He returned 
fire.

	Looking up, he saw two more silvery shapes at the entrance to the 
ship. More smoke was coming out of the ship now. All three were closing 
on his position, firing whenever he raised his head.

	"Guys, could use some help here," said Took, realizing his urge 
to lead the charge had been a bit reckless. Overhead he saw the assault 
shuttle approaching. Well, that was great. In the few minutes it would 
take them to land and get here the aliens could shoot and dissect him 
several times over.

	And then another ship flew overhead, a Directorate Trobadore-A, 
and it raked the ground with laser fire. The Trobadore was moving fast, 
and the ground it chewed up was several dozen feet in front of the 
aliens, but they got the message, and returned to the ramp of their 
ship. 

	That delay gave the assault platoon time to reach Took's 
position. The platoon had brought a VIP too.

	"I don't know if you're brave or an idiot," said Purser. 

	"We can work that out later," said Took grimly. "Covering fire!" 
he said, as he started to crawl towards the alien ship.

	The marines raked the alien ship with blaster fire, forcing the 
aliens to flee into the ship. One of the was hit in the back by blaster 
fire, and he (it?) slumped to the ground, and had to be carried inside 
by its colleagues.

	Good. They weren't immune to blasterfire. It was high time for 
some payback.

	They leapfrogged one by one and made their way to the entrance of 
the alien spaceship. The smoke was getting thick here and their pulses 
were racing.

	Took, pausing to catch his breath, was content to let the marines 
go first. But he regained enough courage to be the third person to 
enter the ship.

	It was smokey inside too, and hard to see anything. There was 
blaster fire ahead, and one of the soldiers ahead of Took dropped to 
the ground. But the other marine fired too, and a silvery figure 
dropped to the ground.

	They proceeded nervously in the narrow corridors. Part of the 
ship was crushed, leaving them very few avenues to proceed. As they got 
deeper and deeper into the ship, Took became more and more 
uncomfortable. The corridors were very narrow, permitting only single 
file entry. They were on unfamiliar territory, and could be ambushed at 
any time.

	That's just what happened when a door (or closet?) popped open 
and a spacesuited alien popped out. At the same time another alien 
jumped out from another door on the far side of the corridor.

	But the marines had been well trained, despite the smoke and the 
surprise attack. They were firing even as the aliens were, and so was 
Took. He instinctively dropped into a crouching position, which may 
have prevented him from getting hit.

	The marine in front of Took dropped, just as one of Took's 
blaster shots hit one of the aliens. The other alien swiveled to cover 
Took, just as another marine took him out.

	Took stood up and looked around. They were right next to a room 
with a large window in it.

	He stopped to pause even as marines ran past him. He looked in 
the window.

	Kato Obe sat in a chair, looking despondent.

	Took banged on the door, but Obe gave no response.

	One of the marines who had gone past Took came back. "It's all 
fire up there, and it's spreading fast. We've got to get out of here." 

	"We've got to get this door open," said Took. He looked at the 
controls. There was no obvious door latch.

	"Stand back!" said one of the marines. Took pulled back.

	He blasted the door. It buckled inwards, as if it were 
reinforced. 

	Several marines fired at once. After a few seconds of resistance, 
the door blasted inwards.

	Took ran to Obe, noticing the odd machines clamped to his 
forehead. He pulled off the machine as quickly as he could and untied 
Obe.

	Obe suddenly snapped awake when he saw Took.

	"Obe?"

	Suddenly Obe pushed past Took and jumped to his feet.

	"Dancing, dancing, we must be dancing, ba-ba-ba ba-ba (clap 
clap)," said Obe. He started dancing vigorously, his feet moving up and 
down so fast that they were a blur.

	"Obe?" said Took again.

	" Dancing, dancing, we must be dancing, ba-ba-ba ba-ba (clap 
clap)," said Obe, continuing to dance so quickly that his feet could 
barely be seen.

	"We have to get out of here! It could blow at any time!" said one 
of the marines. The smoke was getting thick now.

	Took, turning his blaster on Obe, readjusted his setting and 
fired. Obe collapsed to the floor in midstep.

	"Help me with him," said Took, as he took Obe's arms. Another 
marine took Obe's legs.

	They carried Obe out of the ship. Other marines carried the 
others who had fallen.

	They carried the fallen several hundred yards out of the ship. 
Took looked around at the bodies, noticed something.

	"Didn't anyone take one of the aliens? We have to go-"

	Whatever he was about to say was cut off by the explosion of the 
alien ship. Took was thrown to the ground.



	He woke up in the sickbay on the Blue Luna. Admiral Harkness was 
staring at him disapprovingly. "You're crazier than I thought. Luckily 
you're hard to kill as well."

	Took groaned as he sat up, feeling pain in his arms. He noticed 
they were bandaged.

	"Second degree burns," Harkness informed him.

	Took looked around. There were several other marines were there 
with burns as well.

	"Casualties?"

	"No fatalities," said Harkness. "The marines who were stunned 
were merely paralyzed."

	"And Obe?"

	Harkness spoke carefully. "Perhaps you should look for yourself."

	They had him in an iso ward. He was standing and yelling that 
little song.

	"Must be dancing, dancing, yeah yeah yeah," and his feet were 
moving at a blur.

	"That's all he'll say," said Harkness. "We'll sedate him and give 
him a thorough examination. Why don't you get some sleep?"

	Took nodded. But images of a maniacal dancing Obe tortured him in 
his dreams.





Chapter 10: The Standard Imperium Is Born



	"That's awful about Lieutenant Obe," said the War Admiral. He 
sadly eyed the holoimage before him while talking to another holoimage 
of Took.

	"The docs say that a lot of his brain has simply... burned out. 
Whatever they did to him, they destroyed a big part of his mind to do 
it."

	"And the impulse?"

	"They don't know," said Took. "It seems that a  side effect of 
whatever they did to his mind caused one impulse to take over him. The 
docs thing that whatever force or current they send through his brain 
latched onto this random thought, which hitched a ride through his 
brain, and as the force moved through it, so did this thought."

	"So they don't think he was being programmed for something?" said 
the War Admiral.

	Took shook his head. "That's not what the doc thinks. They were 
trying to do something to his whole brain--even his visual and auditory 
centers, which one wouldn't need to touch for brainwashing. This mental 
obsession thing was just a... side effect of whatever they were trying 
to do."

	"Any more word on what that was?"

	"No," said Took. "The docs have no idea why his mind was zapped. 
They do note however that all the cells in his body show sign of 
abrasion, and that his skin was white from it, but that's not what 
caused the brain damage. It was some more specific torture to his 
brain."

	"Does he remember anything? Can he talk?"

	"They have him sedated," said Took. He flashed back to the memory 
of that morning



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

Obe was strapped to a bed, staring dully into space. A small stream of 
drool escaped his lips.

	"Obe," said Took.

	Obe slowly turned his head to look at Took. His eyebrows furled, 
and then relaxed, as he seemed to recognize Took. His mouth started to 
move, but nothing came out.

	"It's me, Took. You recognize me, don't you?"

	Struggling, Obe nodded slowly.

	"Do you remember what happened to you? Obe, can you tell us 
anything?"

	Obe struggled to speak. Slowly, he said, "Ba."

	"What?"

	"Ba... ba... ba...."

	"Ba what?" said Took.

	"Must... be... dancing..." he said with an effort, and then fell 
off to sleep.

	"That's all he'll say, even when sedated," said the doctor behind 
Took.

	Took purposefully kept his face away from the doctor so he 
wouldn't see the tears welling in his eyes



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



	"No sir, he's not able to communicate," said Took. "I think 
there's been too much brain damage."

	The War Admiral bit his lip. "My condolences again, Iday. I know 
you two were friends for a long time. I assure you he'll receive the 
best of care."

	Took nodded dumbly.

	"I'm sorry to hear that we didn't recover any alien technology," 
said the War Admiral. "Still, our scientists are studying fragments 
from the destroyed ship, that might yield something. Did you get a 
chance to see one of them outside their suits?"

	Took should his head woodenly.

	"There will be other opportunities, keep at it," said the War 
Admiral. "Meanwhile, I have bigger issues to deal with. Keep at it, and 
give me regular reports."

	Took nodded.

	"Took? Do you need some time off?"

	"No sir," said Took.

	"All right," said the War Admiral, nodding, as he switched off.

	Took, so self-absorbed, didn't stop to wonder what the War 
Admiral considered more important than the hunt for the aliens





	"Arrested?" The War Admiral couldn't believe it.

	"Two generals from Greenfields, and five from the other three 
planets," said Wren. "Charged with incompetence during the Insect 
Invasion."

	"Incompetence?" said the War Admiral. "It was the civilian 
government that cut expenditures on ground forces. How was the army 
supposed to repel an invasion without substantial forces or air/space 
support?"

	"I'm just reading the latest news, War Admiral," said Wren. She 
handed him a computer pad. "Several distinguished resistance leaders on 
that list."

	The War Admiral looked at the list and frowned. 

	"Aren't we going to do anything?" said Wren. "This is obviously 
an attack on you!"

	"How so?"

	"Don't play coy with me, Norm." They were alone, but while they 
were on duty she seldom referred to him by first name. "Zorin is seeing 
what he can get away with. If he can get these generals, he'll go after 
some of your closer associates next. And then maybe you."

	"He could be using these trials for domestic purposes, to 
distract attention away from his government's problems, the dismal 
state of the economy," said the War Admiral.

	"There's that too," said Wren. "How long are you going to let 
this go on?"

	"What would you have me do?"

	"Get rid of him. Hold new elections."

	"New elections," the War Admiral mused. "How would that look, if 
I tossed out a democratically elected leader because the government was 
prosecuting some of my friends in the military?"

	"Not very good," Wren admitted. "But it's the right thing to do."

	"But maybe not the right time to do it," said the War Admiral. 
"And have you thought of what comes next?"

	"What do you mean?"

	"What if another leader is elected who's just as bad, or even 
worse?"

	"Then we take action again," said Wren.

	"Wouldn't that be a bit disruptive to keep removing bad leaders," 
said the War Admiral.

	"If it has to be done, then it has to be done," said Wren. "We 
can't let another Vitalics happen again."

	"To that I agree. But this still isn't Vitalics."

	The War Admiral swiveled his chair away, staring out into space 
for a moment.

	"Are you just going to sit there?" said Wren.

	The War Admiral abruptly swiveled back to her with a stern look 
on his face. Wren jumped back with a start, wondering if she had gone 
too far.

	"No," said the War Admiral. He handed her a pad with a list on 
it, already prepared.

	"What's this?"

	"A list of military officers I want summoned to the Glory."

	"Why don't you just contact them by holo? It will take them some 
time to get here."

	"Let it take time," said the War Admiral. "And the discussions 
I'll be having can't be held over a holotransmission, no matter how 
secure."



	"So just who is this specialist that you've called in?" Took 
asked Purser, as they stood in the Luna's landing bay watching the 
shuttle land.

	"The less you know, the better," said Purser curtly.

	"Well, gee, as the chief investigator," and Took stressed the 
word chief, "I always thought it was the other way around."

	The shuttle slid to a stop mere feet to the side of them.

	"This man is a top-secret operative," said Purser. "Even his 
designation, as a gamma operative, is on a need-to-know basis."

	"Wups, you let a secret slip!" said Took, as the door to the 
shuttle slid open. A large, husky man came out.

	"Big fellow."

	"That's just the guard."

	Another big husky guy came out, and then, after that, a small, 
cowering man who was mumbling to himself. When he stepped out he looked 
around, and started mumbling to himself.

	Took and Purser walked over to him, and as they got closer they 
could hear what he was saying.

	"White shuttle with a grey ceiling. Ceiling of shuttle bay grey, 
but not so grey as in a destroyer."

	Took looked quizzically at the man. The man looked at Took. 
"Fighter pilot uniform. Slight creases around the shoulders and waist. 
Very worn, not new, hardly new."

	"Dalbo Alto, I'd like you to meet Captain Idaho Took," said 
Purser.

	Took extended his hand.

	"Not to touch," said Dalbo, shrinking back.

	They started walking towards the medical section. "How is this... 
person going to help us?" Took whispered. "He looks like he's in need 
of help himself."

	"Just wait and see," said Purser. "Actually it would make things 
easier if you didn't see. Once you see what he can do we'll either have 
to up your security clearance or kill you."

	"Oh, I can't miss this then."

	They entered sickbay and went into the iso ward where Obe was 
strapped down.

	"How is he, Doctor?" Took asked.

	Doctor Farb looked grave. "His condition is deteriorating. That 
impulse keeps afflicting him, and each time it does it damages more and 
more of his mind."

	"Dancing, dancing, we must be dancing, da-da-da," Obe said. His 
legs were frittering about this way and that even as he was strapped 
down in bed.

	"Doctor, can you leave us?" said Purser. She didn't want any more 
people than necessary to see Dalbo in action.

	Farb looked at Took, who reluctantly nodded.

	"I'll be in the next room if you need me," he said, as he left.

	Once he had gone Purser nodded to Dalbo.

	"Eeeeeeeeeeh, dancing, dancing, we must be dancing, da-da-da," 
Obe said.

	Dalbo took a step forward but recoiled, as if hit by an electric 
shock.

	"What is it?" Purser.

	"Mind unbalanced, greatly unhinged," said Dalbo, grasping his 
head.  "It hurts!"

	"Try!" said Purser. "It's really important, Dalbo."

	Dalbo paused, and spent a minute recovering. Finally, he nodded, 
and turned back to Obe.

	"Mind in great pain," said Dalbo slowly.

	"The aliens. What does he remember about the aliens?"

	"Aliens... silvery creatures. Give bad air that destroys brain."

	"Air?" said Purser. They had never thought that a gas could do 
this kind of damage.

	"New comes in. Then pain, much pain. New leaves, but pain still 
there," said Dalbo, concentrating.

	"What do you mean, new comes in?" said Purser. 

	"Dancing!" Obe shrieked.

	"Mind breaking down," Dalbo muttered.

	"Their base, does he know where their base is?" Purser said.

	"Da-da-da da da!" yelled Obe.

	"Obe!" said Took, realizing that something was wrong.

	Medical monitors started to sound alarmingly. Doctor Farb rushed 
into the room.

	Obe screamed, "Dancing! Dancing!"

	Doctor Farb reached for a sedative. But before he could inject 
it, Obe went limp.

	"Dancing," he muttered, one last time, and then he stopped 
speaking.

	There was a alarming hum from the medical monitors as Doctor Farb 
worked vigorously. Then, turning to face the others, he shook his head.

	Dalbo broke the silence. "Mind in final stages of breaking down."

	Farb nodded. "The other victims we've recovered have gone through 
a similar progression."

	"Did you sense anything else?" Purser asked.

	Dalbo shook his head. "Most disturbing, very disturbing. Can I 
have something to count now?"

	Purser nodded, and gestured for the escorts to take Dalbo from 
the room.

	Took stood there, still in shock. His friend, Obe, was dead. They 
had survived decades of dangerous missions against the Insects, and 
now, he was dead, killed horribly by some nameless, faceless alien 
race.

	The funeral was held on Herefor. Normally, Obe would have been 
buried on his home planet, Karis, but as it was under the influence of 
the energy mist, there was no way to get there. 

	Took attended the funeral, as well as a wing of fellow pilots 
from the Glory who Took hadn't seen in some time. He was silent 
throughout.

	The War Admiral made a surprise appearance. He spoke about Obe's 
dedication to duty, and his unwavering efforts to defend the Alliance. 
Took had been offered a chance to speak about his friend, but he didn't 
think he could find the words without breaking up.

	As they filed out of the cemetery his fellow pilots gave Took a 
pat on the shoulder. 

	The War Admiral, flanked by Fleet Captain Stacy Wren and Admiral 
Roger Dulin, approached Took.

	"Iday, I'm so sorry," said Wren sympathetically.

	Took nodded.

	"Do you need some time off?" the War Admiral asked.

	Took shook his head. "I just want to get the creatures who have 
done this."

	"I understand," said the War Admiral. He thought about saying 
something else, decided against it, and walked away.



	Took returned to work, mechanically pursuing all leads relating 
to the aliens. When Billy Holiday reported that he had tinkered with 
his mathematical formula again and found another likely location of 
attack, Took dumbly went with Purser to check it out.

	His dulled senses and lack of caution almost cost him his life, 
because it was a trap. 

	They found a Kaye particle trail leading down to the surface of 
Pushkin. Although Pushkin was only an associate member of the alliance, 
they received clearance from the government, then lead by General Karn, 
to pursue their investigation. Pushkin was a heavily populated planet, 
formerly the home planet of the Slurian Union (back when Pushkin itself 
had been named Sluria), but the Kaye particles were leading to a remote 
village on the northeastern continent.

	"Are you going to be ok?" said Purser, as the shuttle they were 
in touched down.

	"Why do you ask?" said Took.

	"Well, you haven't said anything idiotic since we boarded. And 
you seem sort of listless," said Purser.

	"I'll work on making some lists," said Took dully.

	They exited the shuttle, a full platoon of marines accompanying 
them, and fanned out across the village. The villagers looked at them 
with alarm.

	Took walked for awhile, his blaster drawn. It wasn't long before 
he though the saw a silvery shape ahead, down a side street. Purser, 
who was accompanying him, saw it too. She ran ahead, while Took just 
kept walking.

	When Purser had gotten some distance ahead, Took heard a door of 
a small building opening behind him, and when he turned he saw two 
silvery aliens. One of them fired its weapon before Took could raise 
his.

	There was a hum, and Took felt his eyeballs assaulted by a 
flashing white light as his whole body shook. Then, to his horror, he 
dropped to the ground. He was still conscious.

	The aliens slowly approached him. Took could only watch as they 
bent over him. One of them lowered a device. He stared into their black 
visors with total fright.

	The device hummed, and Took heard a whirring noise as white 
lights seem to assault his eyes while he felt vibrations in his body 
again.

	The dark visor came right up against his face and Took almost 
though the could see the outlines of something inside of it. And then 
the device was aimed against his head and the vibrations grew more 
intense.

	Was this what they had done to Obe? Would he go mad and die a 
slow, painful death?

	Took squeezed his eyes shut to avoid watching the dreadful black 
visor staring at him, so he totally missed what happened next.

	There was a characteristic roar of blaster fire. Took opened his 
eyes. The aliens were firing at something beyond his range of vision.

	There was blaster fire coming from another direction now, and the 
aliens turned about, as if attacked from another direction. They 
quickly left in a third direction.

	A few seconds later Took saw Purser staring down at him. She 
seemed to be saying something, but he couldn't make out the words. Took 
couldn't move or say anything to respond. In any event, things weren't 
making sense.

	There was more firing, but the sounds grew more distant. In a few 
minutes Took felt himself being lifted, and a while later brought back 
to the shuttle. He felt something pressed against his side, and he lost 
consciousness.



	"There you are," said the ugly face of Doctor Farb, looking down 
at him.

	Took blinked. "Where am I?"

	"In the sickbay on the Blue Luna," said Farb. "Can you sit up?"

	Took discovered he could by doing it. He started to get out of 
bed.

	"Easy," said Farb. "You've had quite an experience."

	Experience. Suddenly, Took remembered. He felt an odd buzzing in 
his head. He lay back down. "Is the same thing going to happen to me?" 
he said thickly.

	"Same thing?"

	"The madness. The brain damage," said Took.

	"You're not brain damaged," said Farb.

	"You're sure?" said Took anxiously.

	"Do you feel brain damaged?" said Farb.

	"I feel this buzzing in my head...."

	"That should pass," said Farb. "We hypothesize that the aliens 
used some sort of intrusive scanner on you. It caused a slight 
disruption in your neurotransmitter balance. The feeling should pass." 
He studied Took thoughtfully. "Are you ready for a visitor?"

	When Took didn't respond, Farb said to someone, "You can come in 
now." He turned back to Took. "They've been very anxious to see you."

	To interrogate, Took thought dumbly.

	"How are you feeling?" said Onnica Purser. Dalbo Alto was 
muttering at her side.

	"You won't need him," said Took. "I'm still capable of speaking."

	"Belligerence. False bravado," Dalbo uttered.

	"Can he really read minds, or was that just an act?" Took asked.

	Purser cast a sharp glance at Doctor Farb.

	"You're too late, I think he already knows."

	"Dalbo is one of our most top-secret gamma operatives," said 
Purser. "We don't want his existence to become common knowledge."

	"Knowledge is uncommon," said Dalbo. He looked up at the ceiling. 
"There are eight light panels in the ceiling, but only six beds. Eight 
to six, Eight to six."

	"He seems a bit... fixated," said Took.

	"He has... issues," said Purser. "Many gamma operatives do. But 
we're here to talk about you."

	"What can I say?" said Took. "I got taken by the aliens. They 
scanned me. You rescued me before they did any serious damage."

	"And that's it," said Purser.

	"That's it."

	"You didn't get any indication of their intentions, their 
technology, anything?"

	"I was paralyzed on the ground at the time," said Took.

	"Still, we did learn one thing," said Purser.

	"What's that?"

	"They were clearly after you," she said. "This was a trap just to 
get you."

	"Just to get me?"

	"They only attacked when you were alone," said Purser. "No one 
else was abducted. Once they lost their chance to get you, they left in 
a hurry. Your boy wonder now thinks the whole thing was a trap just to 
get you."

	A shiver went down Took's spine. Outwardly, he looked bored. "So? 
I'm always in demand."

	Purser nodded. "We'll talk later." She and Dalbo left.



	Took slowly recovered from the shock over the next few days. 
Billy Holiday's mathematical formula could no longer seem to predict 
future alien incursions, which seems to lend credence that the aliens 
had broken Holiday's prediction formula and used it to set a trap for 
Took.

	Took tossed and turned one night. Suddenly, he felt a strange 
beam of light latch onto him. He couldn't move.

	Suddenly, he was in another room, a dark room. There were aliens 
in silver spacesuits all around him. One of them stared at him through 
that dark visor. It raised an instrument and pressed it. Electrical 
bolts surged from it, into Took's head.

	He woke up screaming. Still in his underclothes, he raced to the 
bridge of the Luna.

	"Is there anything out there?" he said to the duty officer, Half 
Commander Yiw.

	"Sir?"

	"Alien ships, signs of alien presence. I think we were just 
scanned!" Took babbled.

	"Sensors?" said Yiw.

	The sensor officer checked.

	"Nothing, sir."

	"Are you sure? Maybe it's cloaked," said Took.

	The sensor officer checked again, and gave the same response. Ten 
pairs of eyes looked at Took, raving as he stood half dressed on the 
bridge.

	"Sorry," he muttered. "I guess is reality and the other was the 
dream." He left the bridge.

	Took wouldn't respond to calls from anyone over the next two 
days, not from Purser, or the War Admiral, or anyone. He simply ate, 
and slept, and hid. He picked a small corner of a supply room, and sat 
there, day in and day out, simply thinking, even obsessing.

	He heard a hissing as the door opened. "Go away!"

	Admiral Harkness came into view. "This is a public supply room. 
You can't monopolize it."

	Took said nothing.

	Harkness looked down at him. "Look at yourself, just sitting 
there, taking pity on yourself. I can guess what you're thinking 
about."

	Took stared silently at the boxes in the room.

	"They almost got you, didn't they? They probably came closer to 
getting you than any of their actual victims," said Harkness. "It's 
bound to be frightening. Who wants to be experimented on and die like 
that? I don't. What you're thinking now is that you don't want to end 
up like your friend, Obe. You're thinking of quitting, of going 
someplace far away to hide."

	"But you can't hide from your fears, Iday. You have to harness 
your anger. Look at what they did to your friend! Look at what they 
tried to do to you! Is there any enemy you've fought, whether it be the 
Insects, or the Slurians, or someone else, that you haven't gotten even 
with?"

	"No," said Took.

	"Then don't let these faceless cowards get the better of you. 
Fight back and get your revenge. Show them there's a price to be paid 
for attacking the legendary Command Captain Idaho J. Took, the most 
famous pilot there ever was in the Alliance Fleet."

	Took looked up at Harkness, and there was a new hardness in his 
eye. "But..."

	"What if they get you? Then they win. But if you give up now, 
become a weeping coward, they also win. Is that what you want?"

	"No," said Took.

	"Aren't you angry over what they did to Obe?"

	"Yes," said Took.

	"Don't you want to avenge your friend?"

	"Yes!" said Took.

	"Then get up out of this box room and get back to work!"

	Took jumped to his feet and nodded. Harkness put an arm around 
his shoulders as they walked. "You know, I wasn't going to tell you 
this, but great minds think alike."

	"They do?"

	"Yes, did you know that the War Admiral used to spend his time 
thinking in supply rooms too?"



	"War Admiral," said Captain Wren.

	"I've seen the report," said the War Admiral.

	"We've been ordered to take food from starving people at Erratta 
and give it to Greenfields."

	The War Admiral sighed. The situation was more complicated than 
that.

	Greenfields used to be primarily an agricultural world, as its 
name implied. But rapid industrialization over the centuries had 
reduced its ability to produce food and increased its reliance on 
imports. The small colony worlds could barely produce enough food for 
themselves, and of the four other major planets, only Erratta had a 
substantial agricultural base.

	While Erratta had been exporting food to Greenfields, Irplo, 
Herefor, and Pushkin, Greenfields felt it deserved a larger share. 
Greenfields had a larger population than the other three planets, but 
the amount of food available per person it had was also higher than on 
Herefor. But because it had a bigger population, and because that was 
where the political center of the government operated from, Zorin 
wanted to take food from relatively more hungry people on Herefor to 
feed relatively less starved people on Greenfields.

	"Are we going to be a party to this?" said Wren. "If we do, we'll 
be a party to murder!"

	She wasn't exaggerating by much. The food shipments from Erratta 
were helping to reduce the sharp edges of hunger.

	The War Admiral said nothing. He pressed a button on his desk. 
"Get me President Zorin." He also pressed another button on his desk at 
the same time, and a few seconds later a flashing green indicator 
appeared on his panel.

	"Do you really think talking is going to accomplish anything?" 
said Wren.

	"No," said the War Admiral, just a few seconds before Zorin's 
image appeared on the screen. By the speed of his appearance he seemed 
to be expecting the War Admiral's call. 

	"Ah, War Admiral. Have your men secured the granaries on 
Erratta?" 

	"No, Mr. President," said the War Admiral.

	"Why not?"

	"I'm calling to ask you to reconsider," said the War Admiral.

	"That's not your call," said Zorin. "Your job is to obey the 
civilian authority. If you can't obey, I'll find someone who can." And 
at that moment the real intent behind Zorin's order became clear.

	"I think it is time to request relief," said the War Admiral.

	Zorin looked surprise, as if he couldn't believe his ears. "Are 
you resigning?"

	"No," said the War Admiral. "But you are."

	The sound of gunfire could be heard in the background.

	"What's that?" said Zorin.

	"Your personal guard is being disarmed," said the War Admiral. 
"It's a moderate measure," he added reassuringly.

	"What are you doing?" Zorin sputtered.

	"Something I should have done 24 years ago," said the War 
Admiral.

The sounds of weapons fire came closer, and then the doors to the room 
were flung open. A squad of battle ready marines entered. One of them, 
a senior officer, saluted in the direction of the holopickup.

	"The palace is secure, sir," said the officer.

	"Excellent, Colonel Fortran," said the War Admiral. "And the 
legislature?"

	"They are being secured even as we speak," said Fortran. 
"Resistance is minimal."

	"Good," said the War Admiral. "Have the former President and his 
staff put in detention. And see that our jailed officers are freed."

	"Sir, yes sir," said Fortran smartly.

	Zorin said, "North! You can't do this! Wait, we can talk about 
this!"

	"You had nearly four years to talk about this," said the War 
Admiral. "Your loquacious skills haven't managed to solve any problems; 
in fact, they have exacerbated them."



	Several minutes they watched the War Admiral's prerecorded 
message on the bridge. It was being broadcasted to all worlds not 
covered by the energy mist.

	"This is War Admiral Norman North. An emergency situation has 
arisen. Over the past four years, the government of President Zorin has 
grown more and more corrupt and dictatorial. Freedom of the press has 
been curtailed. Dissidents have been jailed. Funds and food shipments 
have simply disappeared. Bribery and kickbacks have become the rule 
rather than the exception. Political trials have become common. But the 
last straw was the attempt to divert food for political purposes. 
President Zorin wanted to distribute vital food supplies to reward 
political supporters rather than based on need."

	"I could not tolerate this, so I have relieved President Zorin of 
his duties. He and his associates will stand trial for their action. 
The legislature and the judiciary, which is also packed with Zorin's 
cronies, have also been relieved of their responsibilities."

	"From this point on there will be direct military rule of former 
Alliance worlds. I have spoken with the chiefs of the army, space navy, 
and marines, and they have all agreed to this. Order will be 
maintained. Corruption will be rooted out, and our rebuilding will 
truly begin."

	The War Admiral received a standing ovation from the bridge. But 
the positive action didn't come only from his personal associates; he 
received messages of support from all over the fleet, from all branches 
of the armed forces.

	But the telling sign was the general populace. The press, which 
suddenly regained its freedom of speech, reported that massive rallies 
were being held in support of the War Admiral. He was their greatest 
hero, the man who had liberated them from the Insects. They didn't just 
want a caretaker authority; they wanted him to lead them.



	The War Admiral sat in a meeting with the other top officers of 
the fleet and the armed forces.

	"They want you, War Admiral," said Admiral Landry.

	"I had envisioned a short rule, followed by new elections," said 
the War Admiral.

	"That won't work, the situation is too precarious," said another 
officer, General Paste. "We're still in an emergency situation. Most of 
our worlds are cut off from contact, and the few we have remaining are 
in shambles.  Our entire political class has been decimated. If we have 
elections and they elect another idiot without a track record, we could 
end up with another tyrant on our hands. Only the next one might not go 
without some real bloodshed."

	The other officers nodded. 

	"You're suggesting a dictatorship, then," said the War Admiral.

	"Don't call it that," said Admiral Landry. "Perhaps... an 
Imperium."

	"Imperiums don't have good histories," said the War Admiral.

	"Then how about a new kind of Imperium?" said Admiral Dayja. "One 
that respects rights while maintaining order. One that sets our house 
in order without corruption or cronyism."

	"One that sets a new kind of standard," said Admiral Dulin.

	"A Standard Imperium," said Captain Wren. "THE Standard 
Imperium."

	They all looked at each other as if hit by a bolt of electricity.

	"The Standard Imperium," said the War Admiral slowly. "It has a 
ring to it. But what would our mandate be?"

	"It would only be temporary, for a number of years, until we 
rescue our other worlds and restore our economy and military," said 
Landry. "Once a degree of normalcy has been restored, we could hold 
elections again."

	The War Admiral paused. They all waited breathlessly. Finally, he 
nodded.

	"Very well," said the War Admiral. "The Standard Imperium it will 
be."

	There was a round of applause at the table as history was made.

	"But a few ground rules," said the War Admiral. "First, we never 
forget that our role is only a temporary one, to return power when the 
situation stabilizes. Secondly, we must never trample on the right of 
the people as Zorin has. That means freedom of speech, freedom of 
assembly, and no oppressive government controls. And lastly, I will not 
be an Emperor."

	"What will you be called?"

	"Simply what I am called today," said the War Admiral simply.

	And so a new era in history was born.





Chapter 11: The Last Battle With The Aliens



	"Very odd," said Billy Holiday.

	"How odd?" said Iday Took.

	"Odd enough," said Billy Holiday. "Shortly after your attempted 
abduction, my mathematical formula stopped predicting alien incursions 
accurately."

	"Maybe they figured out that they were being predictable."

	"Most probably," said Billy. "However, there's something else. 
The number of incursions over the past few months have dropped. Whereas 
there used to be one or two a week, now there have been only one in the 
past month."

	"Signifying that they're taking a break, or maybe they're almost 
done with whatever it is they're doing, or they're moving on to a new 
phase," said Took. 

	"Yes," said Billy. "But that's not the odd part."

	"Then what is?"

	"I've been looking over the data on the old incursions, trying to 
figure out a new pattern, and one particular incursion struck me as 
usual." Billy punched up data on the holographic screen.

	"Wincar," said Took, reading. Wincar was a small colony world. 
"Five people abducted. What's so odd about that?"

	"That's one of the three incursions where we found no record of 
Kaye particles before or after the event," said Billy.

	"We arrived too late, after it happened," said Took.

	"None of the people we interviewed seemed to know the five people 
who were taken."

	"Yes, that was odd," said Took, remembering. "But then we had to 
rush off to another attack location, so we didn't really have time to 
dwell on it."

	"In fact, all your information were based on interviews with one 
woman, Irn Sebata, who provided you with the names and information 
about the missing people."

	A list of names appeared on the screen.

	"So?" said Took.

	"None of our records show anyone with those five names settling 
on Wincar."

	"You know how inefficient colony records are," said Purser.

	"Perhaps one or two slipped through, but all five?" said Billy. 
"What are the odds of that."

	"Quite small," Purser admitted.

	"So, with no evidence of an alien attack, we are brought to this 
planet and told that five non-existent people have disappeared. Any 
idea why?" said Billy.

	"Evidently, you do," said Took.

	"Look at the map." Billy brought up a star chart. "Every 
inhabited planet in this sector has been hit at least once, some twice. 
But if there was no alien attack on Wincar, then Wincar was the only 
colony in this sector that didn't have an alien attack."

	"Why would the aliens purposefully not attack one colony world?" 
Took mused. "Even more so, why would they want us to think that they 
had? Maybe if they had something to hide..."

	"Maybe their secret base," said Purser. "We know they must have a 
local base of operation somewhere around here."

	They all looked at each other, and the electricity in the room 
was palpable.

	"I think we need to bring in the War Admiral on this one," said 
Took.



	The image of the War Admiral listened attentively. "It makes 
sense," he says. "But the question is how to proceed. Assuming there is 
a hidden base there, if we rush in they may destroy their facilities 
before we can capture them. If it is their supersecret base, they may 
press the panic button the minute our marines show up on the planet 
surface, or even when our ships come into orbit."

	"We need a stealthy operation," said Took.

	"That we do," said the War Admiral. "And a special operative to 
lead it. Iday, I want you to volunteer for a dangerous mission."

	"What have you got in mind?"

	"How would you feel about going down there, alone?"

	"Alone?" said Took.

	"They want you; that much is clear. And they may not feel 
threatened by your presence, especially if you're alone, especially if 
they've tried to capture you before."

	"What if they capture me again?" said Took.

	"It will be a high-risk mission," said the War Admiral. "Your 
safety is not guaranteed. But we'll take special precautions to keep 
you safe. And I think it's our best bet to take the installation 
intact."

	Took thought for a moment about Obe. Then he thought about what 
Admiral Harkness had said. An anger boiled within him.

	"I'll do it," he said simply.



	Iday balked at wearing the new uniform. Now that the Alliance had 
been replaced with the Imperium, gone were the light blue uniforms of 
the League, or the all white uniforms of the Directorate. Replacing 
them were the black and bright blue uniforms of the standard imperium. 
The uniforms were more military looking, with thicker leather 
shoulderboards and a fierce looking hawk on the arm of each sleeve.

	"Every time there's a revolution they redesign the uniform," Took 
grumbled, as he chafed in the pilot seat of the shuttle. His uniform 
was especially heavy, and cumbersome to walk around in. He tried to 
ignore the uncomfortable feeling.

	"Stop complaining," said Purser, as she sat in the copilot seat. 
The marines sat in back.

	"So where exactly are we going?" said Iday. "I don't see any ship 
to rendezvous with."

	Purser checked the instruments. "We're here. All stop."

	Took cut the engines. "Where is here? And where is the ship we're 
supposed to meet? They look late to me."

	"That's because you're not looking hard enough." She opened a 
comm channel. "We're here and we're ready."

	"Right," said a voice on the comm. "We've been waiting for you."

	There was a shimmering, and in front of Took's eyes, a ship 
appeared out of nowhere. It was long and cylindrical shape, though 
clearly of Alliance technology.

	"Welcome to the subship Nautilus," said Purser simply.



	After they boarded they made their way through cramped corridors 
to the bridge. The Captain was an officer named Hollister.

	"It's some ship you've got here," said Took.

	"We've cleared out about half of the regular crew to fit your 
marines," said Hollister. "Still, it's going to be a cramp fit. I hope 
you don't mind sleeping on the floor next to a torpedo tube."

	"No, better next to it than in it," said Took.

	"My orders are to drop you near the back side of the planet. Is 
it true that even the local colonial administration is not to be 
notified?"

	"Yes," said Purse. "We don't want to risk having the aliens 
intercept our transmission. The rest of the fleet will be waiting at 
the edge of the system."

	"What is your plan of operation?"

	"That's on a need to know basis, Captain," said Purse.

	"If you want a translation, that means they're sending me in 
alone," said Took. "Would you like to join me?"

	"All alone! What chance do you have against an entire alien 
base?"

	"We're not certain there is an alien base," said Purse. "But if 
there is, it will be up to Mr. Took to locate it."

	"As usual, the fate of the galaxy is in my hands," said Took. 
"But I'm used to it."



	The Nautilus dived into subspace for the trip to Wincar. When 
they reached the planet, the passive sensors showed no other ships in 
the area.

	Took only started feeling jittery as he rode the shuttle down 
with Purse and the marines.

	"We'll land a mile or two from the small town where the reported 
abduction took place," said Purse. "We'll accompany you to the edge of 
town, and wait for your signal."

	"All right," said Took, raising a hand to wipe some perspiration 
off of his forehead. This new uniform made him feel hot!



	It was just after sunrise when the shuttle landed and the platoon 
walked with Took to the edge of the small town. It was only when he 
started walking into the town alone that his stomach started jumping up 
and down. He was walking into the largest concentration of aliens in 
the sector.

	The weather was warm but he put on the gloves he had been 
provided. He might look odd to the locals but the aliens would expect 
to see him in uniform.

	Took walked through the narrow streets of the village. All looked 
quiet. A young woman was washing windows.  Another was washing clothes. 
They both looked curiously at him, but that was understandable.

	A man pushing a stack of clothes on a cart walked towards him. 
"Hello," said the man.

	"Hello," said Took.

	"Are you lost?" said the man.

	"No," said Took. "Just going for a walk."

	"Nice day for a walk," he said flatly.

	Took look at the man. He seemed very... calm. Maybe he thought 
that was odd because of his anxious state.

	"Wash day today?"

	"Wash day today," said the man, in the same flat voice.

	Took walked on. He entered a small grocery store.

	"Hello," said the innkeeper, in the same flat voice.

	"Hi," said Took.

	There were two people in the store. They both stared at him.

	"I don't suppose you have any gauche?" Took asked.

	"I don't suppose we have any gauche," said the innkeeper in an 
even tone.

	"Well, then that would settle that."

	Took left the store. More people were walking outside now. 
Something looked odd, but he couldn't quite place it. People were 
moving... slowly. They stared at him of course, which was 
understandable, given that he was a stranger in a small village, but 
they moved slowly, as if they were tired, or carried heavy weights.

	Heavy weights. Just like this ridiculous uniform they had made 
him wear.

	Took, feeling uncomfortable under the gaze of the stares, went 
inside again, this time to a restaurant. There were a number of patrons 
sitting there. The innkeeper approached him.

	"I'd like some gauche, please."

	"Gauche," said the innkeeper.

	The innkeeper left for a moment, and then returned with his 
drink. "Here you are," he said in a flat voice. He turned to go.

	It was at that moment that Took realized what had been bothering 
him. Everyone he spoke to--the guy with the clothes, the innkeeper at 
the grocery store, this innkeeper--all had the same voice. They all had 
the same exact voice!

	Took looked around at the other patrons. They all had food in 
front of them. But none of them were eating! They were sitting there, 
scooping up food, putting it to their lips, but then simply putting it 
down again.

	The innkeeper must have seen the look on his face, because he 
quickly returned.

	"Is something wrong?" he said in that flat voice, the same exact 
voice as the others.

	Took reached out and grabbed the man's wrist.

	The man flickered, changed, and became a figure in a silver 
spacesuit with a black faceplate.

	Took looked around, and saw that the other patrons were 
manipulating something on their wrists, and they too, flickered into 
silver suited aliens. Nine sets of black faceplates stared at him.

	The alien whose wrist Took grabbed pulled a holstered weapon, but 
despite the shock, Took was quicker, giving him a push that sent him 
spiraling back. He bolted out of the door into the street.

	Which was crowded with silvery aliens. They were on to him now.

	Took ran down a side street. There were aliens that way. He 
turned to run back, but there were aliens behind him. He ran into a 
residence. It was empty. He closed the door and locked it.

	Took reached for his comm. "Purser! Purser!"

	All the comm gave was static. Of course, they were jamming his 
signals. 

	There was a sound of slamming against the door. Again, and again. 
They were breaking down the door.

	Took raced to find another avenue of escape. He saw a small door, 
opened it.

	Revealing a silversuited alien in the closet, with a weapon 
raised.

	Took heard a crashing sound, and slowly backed out. Looking to 
his left, he saw the room filling up with spacesuited figures. They 
looked at him for several heartbeats, all those black visors staring at 
him. There was no way he could outshoot all of them.

	But he could try. He raised his blaster...

	And one of them fired. Took felt the vibrations, saw the white 
flashes, and dropped to the ground, the blaster falling from his gloved 
hand.



	The aliens stared down at him with their black faceplates. Took 
tried to contain his revulsion. They lifted him up and carried him 
away. 

	He was carried into another home, and then through a wall that 
slid aside. And then they were in gleaming white corridors, sloping 
underground. They transferred Took to some kind of antigrav bed, and 
pushed him along down the corridor.

	Took was transferred to a familiar looking room with a chair that 
contained restraints and a window built into one side. This was where 
they had tortured Obe. This was where they would destroy his mind. 

	Most of the silvery aliens left now, except for two who lifted 
him up and transferred him to the chair. One of them started to strap 
the restraints in.

	"No, I don't think so," said Took

	One of the aliens looked up with him, and surprise must have 
registered on its face, if it had one.

	Took gave the alien a sprawling kick that sent it crashing to the 
floor. He got up and pushed the other alien down. Then he quickly 
reached down, pulled up his lead lined pants leg, and pulled out his 
spare blaster.

	He was firing even as he reset it to kill. That was his first 
deviation from the War Admiral's plan.

	A hole the size of a fist was blasted out of the alien he had 
pushed back. It fell to the ground with a shrill scream. The other 
alien on the floor tried to get up, but Took blasted it through the 
visor.

	As he walked by the corpse he thought he noticed part of a head 
inside. No matter.

	Took stepped down hard with his foot, activating the auxiliary 
transmitter. He wondered if the walls were shielded. No matter. He 
would take care of them all himself.

	Took went from room to room, gunning down aliens. Sometimes he 
fired first, and sometimes they did, but the result was the same. The 
lead-lined outfit that Professor Stevenson designed had worked. Took 
even put on the hood in case he was shot from behind. Only a direct hit 
to his unprotected face would incapacitate him, and the aliens, aiming 
for his larger body, didn't seem to realize it, as Took quickly killed 
each one who made this discovery.

	Took went from room to room, killing aliens, yelling as he did 
so.

	"Dancing, dancing, we must be dancing!" he shouted, gunning down 
a corridor full of them. 

	He went into another room with beds that was simply filled with 
them.

	Several fired on him, and the vibrations pushed him back 
slightly, one of them rebounding against the uncomfortable lead-lined 
gloves. 

	"Da-da-da, da-da," he said, gunning them down. He kept firing and 
firing and firing. Alien bodies littered the floor. He shot them in the 
body, in the legs, in the faceplate, in every combination he could 
think of. He watched every body fall, every hole in every alien with 
glee.

	Took paused briefly to change powerpacks. He had already killed 
several dozen aliens, and was running low. He hoped there wouldn't be 
too many more to kill. And where was Purse and the marines?

	Suddenly he heard a shrill sound that might have been an alarm. 
Well, no matter.

	He ran into another room, a control room, it looked like, and 
started spraying with his blaster.

	"Dancing, dancing, you must be dancing!" he yelled as he blasted 
away. He stood admiring his work. But then he heard noises to his 
right, and realized there was another part of the room he hadn't seen.

	He turned there just in time to see an alien push something on a 
machine. Took gunned the alien down, but the machine lit up with 
impressive flashing lights. On the screen it showed alien dots, and a 
series of dots, that were fading out, one by one.

	"I'm no scientist, but that looks like a self-destruct," said 
Took. He briefly considered blasting the machine. But that might only 
hasten the detonation.

	He started out at a run.

	Finding his way out wasn't too difficult--he just followed the 
trail of alien bodies. That took him most of the way there until he 
recognized the corridor that was sloping upwards. He was following it 
when he saw an alien coming down towards him.

	The War Admiral had wanted prisoners. Reluctantly, Took reset his 
blaster to stun. The alien fired on him while he was doing this. Took 
ignored the vibrations and fired on the alien.

	It slumped to the ground.

	Took tried to pick it up. But it was heavy. Did he have time to 
go back and look for that gurney? He really didn't have any idea how 
much time there was left.

	And then the first of the marines came down the corridor, guns at 
the ready.

	"About time," said Took. "Can someone carry this for me?"



	He told them about the self-destruct and they ran for the edge of 
town, not sure how large the explosion would be. As they ran Purser 
said, "We had trouble finding the entrance to the underground. How many 
aliens did you have to take out down there?"

	"All of them, I think," said Took. 

	They had just reached the edge of town when there was a giant 
sized quake that threw them all to the ground. They felt the heat of an 
enormous fireball that rose out of the center of the town, and then the 
town actually sunk, buildings and all, into the ground.



	They were on the Glory itself, which was in orbit above Wincar.

	"An entire town taken over?" said the War Admiral in disbelief. 
"How many residents were there?"

	"We're not certain of an exact number, something around 150," 
said Purse.

	"And is my understanding correct, Iday, that you killed all of 
them yourself?" said the War Admiral.

	"Most of them," said Took. "I may have missed one or two. Sorry 
about that."

	"I thought the plan was to stun them and take the installation 
intact," said the War Admiral.

	"I'm sorry about that self-destruct, but I did get you your 
prisoner," Took pointed out.

	"So you did," said the War Admiral. "We're sifting through the 
remnants of the base now, but there isn't much to recover. My people 
tell me that the heat of the explosion was much hotter than that needed 
to destroy equipment and computer files. Whatever they kept in there, 
they wanted to make certain it was destroyed."

	"Perhaps our captive can tell us more," said Took

	"Let's find out, shall we?" said the War Admiral.

	They walked into medical, where, to Took's immense satisfaction, 
the silvery alien he had stunned was securely strapped to a chair. 
Strapped down like that, it looked more helpless than menacing.

	"Doctor?" said the War Admiral. "What have we learned?"

	"It's definitely humanoid," said Farb. "We could learn more once 
we get that suit off."

	"Have you analyzed its air?"

	"We patched in and took a sample."

	"And?"

	"85% nitrogen, 15% oxygen."

	"That's almost identical to what we breathe!" said Took.

	The War Admiral frowned. "If it can breath our air, why is it 
wearing a spacesuit?"

	"I don't know," said Farb. "One of the first things we did was 
look for trace elements in its air that weren't in ours; we didn't find 
any. Perhaps there are trace elements in ours that harm it, but we can 
easily feed it a pure 85/15 mix."

	"That should be safe enough," said the War Admiral. But he was 
frowning as he said it. Why would the aliens wear spacesuits if there 
wasn't something they feared about the air?

	"War Admiral, it only has another hour of air remaining in its 
tanks," said Farb. "We're going to have to try it sooner or later."

	Dalbo Alto stepped forward.

	"Do you sense anything?" the War Admiral asked. He didn't really 
expect that Dalbo would be able to read an alien mind, but there was no 
harm in having him try.

	"Yecccch! Squishy alien mind!" said Dalbo, making a face.

	"You can sense something?" said the War Admiral excitedly.

	"Fear, great fear," said Dalbo. "Cannot get specific thoughts."

	"Of course he's scared, his kind has probably never been captured 
before," said Purser.

	"Well, War Admiral?" said Doctor Farb.

	The War Admiral nodded. "Proceed."

	Two of Farb's men in environmental suits entered the iso ward. 
The alien stared at both of them in obvious alarm, turning its 
faceplate left and right. One of them reached down and started to 
unhook the alien's helmet.

	The alien struggled fiercely against its bonds. The orderly 
grabbed the helmet, turned it right, there was a click-

	And the helmet came off, revealing a pale looking face. A human 
looking face.

	The alien sniffed the air, gave a scream, and chomped its teeth 
together violently. The medical monitors in the room started jumping 
wildly. A few seconds later the alien jerked like a chicken with its 
head cut off, and then went still.

	All the medical monitors went flat.

	Farb turned to the War Admiral. "He's dead."



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



War Admiral's Confidential Log

	Who were they? Where did they come from? What did they want? With 
the Insects, at least their motives were understood. But what did these 
aliens want?

	Doctor Farb confirms that they were alien, however human they 
looked. They evidently have several internal organs that the Doctor 
cannot yet identify. But why the helmets? Why the spacesuits? Why did 
they wear them even inside their own installation?

	At first we thought exposure to our air killed the alien. But an 
autopsy showed that it was a fast acting poison, stored in one of the 
alien's teeth. The alien was so horrified at the thought of capture 
that it killed itself. 

	Or maybe it was so horrified at the thought of exposure to our 
air. Did they fear catching some sort of illness or disease from us? 
Were they using us to search for a cure? I don't think we'll know now.

	For the alien attacks have stopped. In the two months since we 
captured the alien we haven't heard a single report of an abduction. 
Either they decided that we were more trouble than we were worth, or 
they concluded their experiments. 

	I'm glad to say that Command Captain Idaho J. Took has completely 
recovered. He holds the unenviable distinction of being the only 
captive of the aliens to survive intact.  I didn't press charges 
against him for disregarding orders; there's no evidence that had he 
set his weapon to stun that he could have prevented the self-destruct. 
He was, after all, all alone down there against all the aliens. He also 
knew going in that there was no guarantee that the lead lined suit 
would protect him, and what the consequences would be if it didn't. 
He's a very brave man, doing what would make most others in his 
position break down. I've promoted him to War Captain. I think he's 
more than earned it.

	Unfortunately, since were weren't able to recover much in the way 
of alien technology we still don't have a clue how to deal with the 
energy mist surrounding our planets. The alien's spacesuit and weapon, 
while interesting, don't have any insulating properties or protected 
power sources that would defy the energy mist. I think we would have 
had to recover one of their ships to determine how to do that.

	So for now most of our planets are cut off and our population is 
vulnerable. With only five major planets and a truncated fleet, we are 
vulnerable to attack. That's why I've made it our primary task to build 
up the fleet. The Herefor shipyard has been working around the clock 
and a second shipyard is almost complete at Erratta.

	I have to admit it's easier getting things done now that I am the 
unchallenged ruler of the Alliance (all four planets!). I enjoy not 
having to deal with detestable politicians, and getting things done 
simply by issuing orders. But the situation is temporary, and I am 
keeping a close eye on the military administrators for the four major 
planets under our control. I won't tolerate abuses like those under 
Zorin's administration.

	The quiet of late has given me time to reflect on absent friends. 
What happened to Steven Quick? Where is he now when we need him most? 
And what happened to my friend Clifford Croft? Is his body scattered in 
little pieces in the wreckage of a Trobadore B somewhere on August, or 
is he simply trapped there, like all the rest? I wonder what's 
happening on all those planets cut off from power. Are people starving 
to death?

	We've taken long range photographic surveys, beyond the range of 
the mist. There are people alive down there. I've authorized small care 
packages to be sent there--one way rockets that use a reliable non-
energy source--parachutes--to land. They contain some small things, 
medical supplies, mostly, that they may be short on. There's no way a 
few rockets can adequately meet their needs, but it's a way of showing 
that there's someone out there who still cares about them and is 
fighting to find a way to break them out of their high-tech prisons. 
Since all the planets were cut off by the energy mist, they have no way 
of knowing if anyone outside their planet survived. I'm hoping that the 
packages will be a morale boost to them. It's a shame, though, that the 
energy mist prevents them from communicating with us.

	I'm actually pessimistic about our chances of breaking through 
the energy mist. It seems as potent as ever, and our scientists don't 
even have the most basic understanding of how it works, much less how 
to dissipate it. We will keep trying but I am concerned-



	North looked up from his log as his door chimed. "Come."

	It was Captain Wren. She had an odd look on her face.

	"Captain?"

	She held a pad in her hand. "Sir, we've been monitoring the drop 
sites by long distance photography, to see if anyone found our little 
care packages." She was referring to the sites where the "care 
packages" were dropped.

	"Yes?"

	"If you recall, we spotted a community on the western shore of 
Gateway; you thought your friend Levi Esherkol might be there, and 
ordered us to drop a package there."

	"So?"

	"We did a continuous photo survey there, and a few days later 
this is what showed up." She handed the War Admiral the pad so he could 
see the image.

	The War Admiral's eyes were raised. "Where did you take this?"

	"Near the shoreline of Gateway, not far from the settlement," 
said the War Admiral.

	"I suppose the next question is, what does it mean?" said the War 
Admiral.

	He stared at the image some more. Wren, looking over his 
shoulder, saw what must have been giant logs formed to shape letters, 
burning on fire as they spelled the word "CAPCR".





THE END (?)



Author's Notes

	This has been an altogether different kind of book from the 
previous Insect novels. The first half is a sort of "pioneering to 
survive" story, and the second half is quite dissimilar, featuring 
terror caused by an unknown alien race, but both halves have one thread 
that tie them together--the search for a cure to the energy mist. I had 
some concern about the slower pace of the first half of the book, the 
"pioneering" section, but I felt it made for a nice change from the 
typical "hunt/chase/escape" nature of my novels.

 The entire novel serves as a sort of bridge between the Insect novels 
and what is to come next. The next novel to be written, "Rise of the 
Standard Imperium" says it all in the title, though the first half of 
that novel will make little mention of the new empire, but rather 
follow Croft's embarking on an extremely dangerous mission to obtain a 
cure to the energy mists.

	Unlike previous novels, this one has fewer "holes" in it, seeing 
as it covers a smaller period of time (4 years) than the previous 
novels. There are a few side stories that can be written about this 
period, but the main events are relatively well covered in this novel 
relative to the time periods covered in the previous Insect novels.

	If you're curious, this novel only took me about two weeks to 
plan and write! That's a new record, even for me. Unfortunately, such 
intensive writing burns me out, requiring at least a few weeks of rest 
before I can write another. 



Well, that's about it for now. I hope you enjoyed this book. 

Steve Gordon, February 2, 2002


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