 
The Salvation of Caron

### A Leap of Fate

### Episode 4

### The Salvation of Caron

By G. L. Fontenot

Copyright 2013 G.L. Fontenot

Smashwords Edition

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### What is fate?

Sometimes fate is compassionate and mellifluous; a winding trail that casually leads to nowhere in particular. But at other times fate can be an insidious and undeniably malicious circle. Hence the saying, "What goes around, comes around!"

G. L. Fontenot

### Prologue

In the solar system denoted as Gotliig Major; named for the discoverer and later conqueror of it, is a world known as Caron. Caron is the second planet out of twelve from the white star that serves them all, and is the only one with sentient life upon its surface. It is a large globe, rated above a class nine on a scale of fourteen...a scale in which humanoid species are unable to exist above a ten-point-eight. (No known explorers have ever set foot on any above an eleven-point-five.)

On this moderately heavy world reside two bipedal races. One is a technologically advanced breed of humanoids who have resorted to modifying themselves genetically to create a more powerful, "better" being...and who see every other as either an adversary or a servant. They are the current rulers; masters with a heavy, brutal hand, a violent nature, and a total lack of sympathy or compassion toward their charges. They call themselves the Kreete.

The second species are humans, comprised mostly of the natives of the planet, but having some influx of similar genetic baselines from different worlds. All of them have a deep desire to rid themselves of their self-appointed 'Lords'. These rebels are currently massing together in secret camps, villages, and compounds all over the civilized portion of their world in the attempt to form a coalition of fighters that might put a stop to the tyranny of their oppressors.

That army is beginning to swell its ranks in two locations...one to the west of an enormous, high-altitude plateau known as the Greishere Highlands, and the other to the east of that natural barrier. In that eastern region, at the southwest quadrant of the Province of Mirchice, five hoz to the west of the town of Thackere, lies a sprawling farm beside the intersection of two rivers, the Prant and the Kessleton. Thirty feet below the grassy surface of a grazing meadow on that farm lay a series of interconnected tunnels constructed of a waterproof, concrete-like substance. This subterranean structure is a secret emergency refuge for a family that once lived in a grand home at that location.

Their house has been destroyed by a warship of the 'Lords' that sought to annihilate the inhabitants of the dwelling because of suspicion of traitorous acts against their ruling authority. However, those now taking shelter in the bunker are at present unaware of such charges...only the conclusive, grave decision.

Six individuals are standing in a large room in that underground facility...three of them are human and three are of the race that domineer Caron, as well as hundreds of other planets. The humans are Ron Allison, Roelantish Sonebane, and Josylinia Gitove. The alien race is represented by Karne Gitove and his sons, Neidar and Larson.

The latter three are enormous individuals who stand eight feet tall or more, have tough, gray skin, silver eyes, and are totally hairless. Their species have hideous, bestial faces and an almost zealous affinity for decorating their bodies with inked artistry. This display bespeaks their individual victories in some battle...either in glorious war, honorable duel, or spectacular blood-sport in front of huge crowds of onlookers.

At one side of that spacious compartment is Ron Allison, originally an ordinary Earthman from the state of Louisiana, in the United States of America. Almost three Earth years in the past though, he unwittingly became the product of the clash of two men's fates, instantly transformed into the ultimate collaboration of those separate humanoid species. He is now one man from two different worlds, forever conjoined by an incomparable accident of infinite possibilities. His alter ego, Kaskle Dangarth, the Piercellione Danecore (Champion of the Aredanz Mountain clans) perished in the fight for Caron. Before doing so however, he passed on his extraordinary skills as a fighter and woodsman to Ron in that joining. His sacrifice left Ron forever grateful...and forever regretful.

On this planet Ron is known by differing names to different individuals. He is still Kaskle to some who have never fully given up on that indomitable man returning from his unknown fate. He is Ronin Alsone to others who are looking for a miracle in the form of that legendary soldier who once saved an ancient Caronian kingdom from certain annihilation. He is Shartae the Invincible to those who have seen any of his hundreds of mortal duels in the death-sentence condemnation of the Retribution Games. Most recently, he is called Baushe` to the exquisitely lovely woman at his side who saved his life and nursed him back to health. Ron himself muses that "Ronin" is uncannily accurate for his new persona...not the Caronian legend, but rather the earthly owner of that same title. The Samurai warrior with no master seems most appropriate...the ancient Japanese peoples' champion. Ronin soldiers protected those who could not defend themselves in their most dire time of trial and strife. Those nearly mythical fighters lived by the bushido code of honor and righteousness, and vowed to uphold it, no matter the personal cost.

Now, in that underground bunker, Ron remains motionless...frozen where he is. The sensuous Josylinia Gitove is hanging on his arm adoringly; unaware of his mental plight while his mind is spooling up to grasp the situation he currently finds himself in.

Ron stands well over six feet in height, broad of shoulder and covered from head to toe with thick, dense, corded muscle. His unflappable intelligence, combined with that physique, has proven him to be unassailable to nearly any foe; so many times has he escaped certain death. His once long, black hair is now only about an inch and a half in length, having been shaved less than two santaris ago in order to treat a number of ghastly injuries to his scalp. Those wounds were caused primarily during a long period of captivity at the hands of the sadistic overlords.

At this moment, his body remains heavily coated with sweat from his arduous trek to this general location barely a half billot ago. He raced there in a hell-bent panic, hoping the entire way that his worst fears would not come true. He desperately prayed the news of the destruction of the fabulous home in which his heart's flame resided would not become fact...but it had. A beautiful mansion once rested barely two hundred peors (yards) from where he is now, but it has been totally obliterated by a super-intense particle disruptor cannon fired from a merciless, extremely hostile foe. To his great relief though, that destruction had not robbed him of his exquisite lover. She presently clings to him, nestled tightly at his side...whole...safe...calm.

'She', Josy, is the spawn of his most hated enemy, the hideous, gray-skinned, malicious species known as the Kreete, but bears no similarities with those repugnant creatures whatsoever. In fact, she is breathtakingly beautiful and is gentle, kind, and compassionate...the exact opposite of her father's lineage. The color of her hair matches Ron's, but is long and wavy-curly, reaching to the middle of her supple back.

Although not tiny by the standard of a woman's average height, the top of that raven mane barely reaches the level of his tanned shoulder, making her seem diminutive next to his bulk. She is dressed spartanly, as usual, befitting the heat of the tropical region. A dark green halter-top and matching skirt-pants (skorts on Earth) that are sensationally brief are all that adorn her feminine frame above her sandaled feet. Her race is devoid of body hair on their extremities, which leaves her skin, which is darkly tanned by the Caronian star, incomparably smooth and alluring. And on top of that, she is very voluptuous, her curves a magical delight to the eyes of the opposite sex...and a tactile Eden of pleasure to her chosen mate.

The two of them are at present completely enthralled with one another. Their hearts became welded together over the past few santaris through the purity of trust and mutual respect they'd developed, one for the other. Ron fell into her life by another miracle of chance...a recurring premise with him that seemed to guide his every move...and she responded in the fashion of her mother's species...the Tragesians. With tremendous patience and astoundingly gentle care, she coaxed him back from the brink of animalistic depravity that his captors had driven him to. Over the weeks as her charge, Ron's general manner and overall behavior returned to a close version of his old self. She even managed to exercise the fun-loving boy in the man she so patiently cared for. They drew together with time, and eventually Josylinia fell in love...a love that was profoundly deep and overwhelming to her, one that flooded her with fiery passion and blissful contentment equally. He gave his heart to her with equal fervor, and felt whole once more; both body and soul.

Barely moments before this instant, Josy had informed Ron that she and her family had been spared from inescapable death by an extremely timely warning given to them by a visitor...someone unknown to her. That man then entered the open space which they occupied, through the doorway directly across from them. That was when she felt her heartthrob tense into a stoic figure of solid steel.

Ron Allison stood transfixed not by the beauty clamped to his arm, but rather on the face of Roelantish Sonebane. Roe is the very man who handed him over to the Kreete to be brutally and maniacally tortured in the depths of Huinrag...

### Chapter One

### Rage

Ron and Josy stood as still as stone; he so surprised that he couldn't move, and she completely bewildered by his reaction to the sight of a stranger. She had no idea that the man was no stranger to Ron.

Ron blinked hard twice...too astonished to believe his eyes...but the image didn't change...it didn't vanish as if from some insane nightmare. As incredible as it might seem, the vision in front of him was real.

"What the f..." Ron grumbled as the internal furnace of his anger exploded into full flame once more.

They were in a bunker that had only two doors, each about thirty feet from the other. That secret, underground shelter was used partly for storage, having many compartments hidden in the walls to save as much of the limited space as possible. There was seating all around in the form of a molded bench, made from the same material as the walls, and so the room doubled as a place to congregate for meetings and such. The complex had been specifically designed to provide shelter to Josylinia and her family in the event of some great calamity such as what had come to pass. Now though, that very sanctuary was rapidly being transformed into its own version of a rising storm...one of catastrophic proportions. Two men, each well versed in the art of warfare and the use of innumerable deadly weapons, faced one another...and at least one of them had a very poor regard for the other.

The other man of the group, Roelantish Sonebane of the Chavarre Territory, was a large, barrel-chested fellow with a thick beard and arms like tree trunks. He wore an animal-hide vest made from the skin of a yetsole cat...an extremely lethal creature that prowled the hills of his homeland. His trousers and calf-length boots came from the same beast and he was renowned to many across a wide region as a cunning hunter...and not one that just tracked beasts. It was not uncommon for him to aid the Lords with his skills in the manner of a seeker of men; for money.

Roelantish, or Roe, as everyone called him, was the first person Ron had spoken to after arriving on the planet of Caron. He was also the same individual whom Ron saved from certain demise as the prey of the very panthers he sought. They had befriended each other in that wild country which now lay far to the southwest...but that was then!

It was he who caused Ron to pause now...he who had somehow turned Ron's partner, Cache Kuar, against him...and he who had turned Ron over to the Kreete. It was almost too coincidental to find him in this very room, only twenty feet away from where Ron now stood. That happenstance shook the foundation of Ron's mind.

They were once great friends...but the inner thoughts of the earthman this day were far to the opposite of friendship.

Cache wasn't present in the subterranean structure, but was a focal point of the rift between the one-time pals. She was a brilliant, beautiful woman whom Ron knew to have been in love with him. She had professed that heartfelt sentiment on several occasions over the many santaris they'd been together...and again only mere moments before she had betrayed him, presumably at Roe's request.

Ron had followed Cache to Caron where their hope for a virtuous, philanthropic campaign to help the natives had, in reality, turned into a personal nightmare of pain, loss, and torment for him...a nightmare that he very much wished vindicated.

As Ron gazed across the pale gray, utilitarian expanse of the permacrete dwelling, his sense of irony almost forced a laugh at the quirk of fate that had reunited them. He'd dreamed of this moment ten thousand times while he suffered unrelenting agony at the hands of the Kreete. He imagined the two of them walking into the arena and battling with each of the numerous tools of pain that were being put to use on his body. They would fight sword to sword, or with club, or mace, or chatreg...or even hand to hand...anything and everything as long as it was close-up warfare. He'd kept his mind from a total breakdown only to live long enough to face his betrayers in combat...any contest that had a final outcome. Now he'd come to the end of that long wait.

"Ron," Karne Gitove began, "You need to hear what this man..."

Karne was a Reaper class warrior of the Kreete Triad, the most powerful and dominant military force in the galaxy. He towered over Ron and Roe by over two and a half feet, and wore his customary military uniform of blood red sleeveless shirt, trousers, and calf-high boots, with seven ragged black stripes running diagonally across his chest to signify his elite rank. His pale gray skin was literally covered at every inch with a psychedelic montage of overlapping tattoo work that signified thousands of successful events in his life, from sporting triumphs to global, mortal combat victories. Through twelve decades of dedicated service, he'd finally grown to see the vileness of his leaders' complete disregard for the rights of civilizations other than the Kreete's to live and thrive and flourish. He had commanded countless invasions and helped to annihilate half a dozen species of humanoids, all under the guise of the need to expand the Kreete's realm. Caron had been a new beginning for him and he chose to try and make a difference there...to give the peoples of that harsh, foreign world a chance at survival. He was the former owner of the plantation home that was now destroyed, and the overseer of much of the food supply for a large percentage of the surrounding territory. He and his family, his wife Mishea, his daughter Josy, and his two sons, Neidar and Larson, were now fugitives, marked for extermination, and he didn't even know who was behind those orders, or why. However, his speculation would have fallen directly on his new mission...his goal to help the indigenous natives have half a chance at a better life.

But none of that mattered to Ron Allison at the moment. His eyes burned from his welling internal heat, his heart raced, and the temperature of his skin soared so much that Josy felt it instantly and turned loose of his arm.

"Aaaaaiiiiiieeeehhhhh!" roared Ron, cutting off Karne in mid-sentence as his most primal self leaped into complete control of his faculties.

The strain of the last two days was set aside in a flash as his adrenal gland dumped its cargo of Mother Nature's amphetamine. Only borts earlier, when he thought Josy had been murdered by her father's people, he'd been infused with the desire to retaliate, to seek out and slay any who might have had a hand in that attack. His lust for battle had peaked then, only to be quelled abruptly at the sight of her alive and well. That blood lust was still working its way out of him as his relief siphoned off the energy he'd called upon, but now that craving, combined with this new development, stoked his rage sharply. The result was similar to that of a massive amount of high-octane fuel flooding into a powerful engine...revving it to an unstoppable level. His heart pumped a double dose of adrenaline into his blood stream and immediately turned his body into the iron-hard vessel of destruction that had decimated so many of his foes in the past.

Ron launched himself at Roelantish like a jet fighter from a carrier's deck, leaving the heavenly Josylinia startled where she still stood.

"Ron! No!" she screamed.

By the time Ron's feet struck the ground again, the indestructible black sword that had been fashioned for him back on Rauld...by Cache herself...was held high and carried behind it the full strength of his massive shoulders.

Roe managed to clear his own weapon just in time to have it up in defense, but saw it crushed instantly against the concrete wall of the underground bunker.

The force of Ron's strike sent the ebon blade three inches deep into that stone wall in a five-foot long gash that sprayed rock debris across the entire room...but he had missed!

Ron was astounded that such a big man could move as nimbly as Roe had, but he wheeled on his former comrade instantly and pressed forward.

The Chavarre woodsman was still on his feet, and unruffled...his recovery exceptionally well done. His sword hadn't been ripped from his hands as Ron would have expected either, and now he stood poised and ready to fight...just the way his opponent preferred.

"Do not attack me, Ron!" Roe ordered as his own inner boiler heated up quickly. "You do not know who it is you are fighting!"

Ron heard his words but his position did not deviate. He'd survived too many encounters with every sort of adversary, and one man was not about to rattle him. After all, he'd never been afraid to die in the first place! He circled the bounty hunter and attacked anew.

The fury of his swordplay was extreme...striking a dozen times in only a few litas, each blow precise, calculated, and powerful. He was testing his opponent's skill.

"Baushe'!" cried Josy. "Please stop!" she pleaded with her hands over her ears, trying to keep that deafening ring of metal on metal out of her head.

Ron was in a mental zone that heard no pleas though. He focused only on that bearded fellow who crouched before him with his blade flying about in an impenetrable shield of steel.

Ron continued the charge with a vengeance, smashing Roe's sword with faster and faster regularity, fully expecting the woodsman to fall off the pace enough to let the dark razor in...but he did not. In fact, Roe didn't even try to fight back...he only evaded.

Ron was inwardly impressed that the burly fellow could maintain such a defense, and at any other time would have been elated to find such a fine partner for future sparring, but this was not any other time.

Ron slipped the short sword from its scabbard and continued the melee, thus increasing the frequency of his blows by a third. Roe matched his move, pulling his longest dagger to even the contest.

Round and round the two of them fought while Karne quickly made his way around the combatants and pulled Josy aside, and then he and her brothers stepped out of the room and watched from the adjoining corridors. He alone knew that this was a battle for all to remember...and he wanted to miss none of it. He was the only one in the room who was aware of exactly who it was that clashed in this hidden dwelling...and his silver eyes fairly danced at the show.

Roe now stood where no other man, Kreete, or creature had stood for half as long...in the crushing, onslaught barrage of cutting edges that was Ron's attack. How he could even see the incoming weapons was a mystery to the onlookers because the blades themselves were everywhere at once...yet he held!

The two warriors frothed with the stress of the battle, sweat dripping from each of their arms, their faces, and down their chests...but still, they fought on. It was an unparalleled clash of titans that raged for twenty borts of unrelenting fury, and seemed to have no end and no victor, until one failed step caused Roe's foot to slide in the rock debris of Ron's first strike, and he dropped to his knee.

Ron Allison...Shartae the Invincible of the Retribution games...had not survived over a hundred duels in the arena from missing an opportunity for a charge, and he did not miss this one. A fearsome blow pushed Roe's sword away just enough for Ron to land a rock-hard heel to his chin, sending Roe against the wall solidly. Ron stayed on him and pinned him there with a savage knee to his lower back and a forearm to the side of his head. Roe caromed off the wall in a daze and Ron spun with his immense strength to land both his swords against Roe's blades, destroying the bigger man's grip on those weapons and catapulting them to the other side of the large room.

At that particular moment, the lights suddenly began to pulse in a slow fashion. Karne pulled his eyes from the fight long enough to share a glance at each of his sons, all that was needed to send them dashing from the room in opposite directions.

"Father!" Josy pleaded again, "Do something!"

Roe was disarmed, but not out of the fight as he recovered well enough from that last blow to lunge at Ron and grab his wrists. He was still on one knee but, to Ron's astonishment, Roe pressed him up and back until he was once again on his feet.

"I told you," Roe said in his deepest, grating voice while he read the reaction to his move on Ron's startled face, "you do not know who you are dealing with! I am from a class ten world!"

His heavy boot then shot up swiftly and landed squarely on Ron's mid-section. It was powerful enough to send him sailing across the thirty-foot-wide room and into the opposite wall where he accepted the jarring shock painfully and slid down to his knees. That blow knocked half the wind from him and his brain singed from the mental imprint of failure that his foe had just left there.

Ron then glanced down and saw his two swords on the floor at his feet. No one had ever disarmed him in head to head battle before...and he did not like it. He slowly retrieved his weapons and refilled his lungs, gaining his feet once more to prepare for round two.

"STOP!" Karne then bellowed through the space...his command echoing around the concrete walls like a thunderclap. "We must go now! A scout ship is approaching!"

Ron stepped gingerly toward Roelantish, his battle not yet finished, not yet ready to relinquish its hold on his mind. Karne jumped in between them quickly.

"Stop!" he ordered again.

"Move, Karne!" Ron ordered back at him...the red haze of fury completely shrouding his vision now. "This is between him and me!"

"It will have to wait!" Karne continued in his ground trembling voice, one that few had ever dared ignore.

Ron merely made to move around that giant soldier, his chest rumbling from the innate call for finality to his mortal combat.

"JOSY IS IN DANGER!" rang a new voice in the room as Mishea, Josy's mother and Karne's wife, joined them. She was the spitting image of Josy, only somewhat slighter, with straight black hair instead of wavy which reached her waist.

That announcement sent a bolt of reason shooting through Ron like a bucket of ice water, and was probably the only thing that could break into his burning need for revenge.

Ron stopped short and swiveled his head around to lock onto the vision of that brunette goddess, standing beside the doorway with a pale look of grave concern.

"Josy?" Ron asked as his fever cooled and his brain reengaged with his surroundings.

Josy dashed to her love and buried her face in his wide chest, hugging him as tightly as she could.

"Oh, Baushe`!" was all she said through a choking sob. Seeing Ron in such a dangerous situation was too much for her. She much preferred him calm and safe in her arms.

"What is happening?" he asked Karne as he held the Reaper's daughter tightly, his hands still gripping the steel he'd so recently put to use.

"We must leave this place at once! A scout ship is topside right now! They will find this shelter soon so we have little time. Come!"

Mishea was already racing down the far tunnel and Karne set off after her. Josy's oldest brother, Neidar came running in from the direction they'd entered earlier and sped through the battleground room in pursuit of his father.

"Hurry!" he called over his shoulder.

Ron gave Josy a squeeze and pressed her before him in the wake of her brother.

"This is far from over, bounty hunter!" Ron growled at Roe as he followed Josy.

### Chapter Two

### The Hunt

Treage Vitrauge, another Kreete soldier of the Reaper classification, paced back and forth in his command center in Gratoon, twenty-seven hoz north of the bunker, waiting for the report from his men who were scouring that property of his former rival, Karne. He would have preferred to lead that mission himself, however, his duties involving the search for the escaped prisoner, 'Shartae' were having little results and his superiors were growing short on patience. Only for that reason had he decided to man his assigned post instead.

"Report!" he ordered in his usual manner, expecting everyone within the sound of his voice to tremble and quake...as most did.

Treage was one of those leaders who demanded absolute obedience to his commands. He was well known for being quick with a blade, maiming any of his underlings that did not respond rapidly enough...even killing them if his mood was sufficiently sour...and it was very sour now.

"Sir! We find no sign of anyone!" Reasde replied. "And we have covered the area thoroughly!"

Reasde Oudrec was the commander of the Raptors...the roving military group that reported directly to Treage. The Raptors were the equivalent to Karne's Hellions in size and deployment parameters, but instead of respected for evenhandedness, they were widely known for their extreme brutality, and were deeply feared across the northern territories they patrolled.

"Search the river!" Treage rebuked him for even considering calling off the search. "The scanners picked up four individuals. One came in from the wooded area to the northeast, and was joined by three others. They have to be there somewhere!"

"Reaper Treage, sir. Possibly our sensors caught some foraging animals."

"You insolent flarge! Get out there and check for footprints! Scan underground as well!"

"Sir! Yes, sir!"

The scout ship lifted up immediately and began its coverage of the farm with its advanced detection sensors recalibrated for ground penetration.

"Where are you Karne?" Treage grumbled as he watched the readouts of information at his own station.

Treage Vitrauge hated Karne Gitove almost as much as he hated Kaskle Dangarth, (the true identity of the slave known as 'Shartae', according to Treage). Treage and Karne had risen together from mere scouts, up through the multiple levels of the Kreete ranks. However, Karne always seemed to be just ahead of him, first with victories, and then with promotions. Karne was the natural leader of the two rivals, able to spot individuals almost instantly that he could recruit and train into fine officers whom he could count on. Treage was more apt to attract the seedy (even for Kreete standards) kind of soldiers that craved glory, battle, and the spoils of both. Treage moved up by being more brutal and vicious than his peers, as well as his superiors. He took their positions at the sharp end of his sword...and he knew no bounds to his greed and ambition.

Karne was by no means a saint, but his appointments in rank were more often a result of some astounding battlefield performance than to any type of treachery or subterfuge. He'd fought his share, and more, of challengers, and had taken the prerequisite hazardous duty calls willingly, showing his faithful resolve to the Triad. He waged open, bloody war against all who dared step in his path, enough to reach his lofty, Reaper status, but he was not feared as the assassin Treage was. His commanders had never been forced to have guards stand at their backs for the purpose of thwarting a surprise attack from him.

And then there was the incident concerning Mishea Jhenaary.

On Tregasia, when the fight for Mishea had taken place, Treage was second in command to the Krosepten that Karne slew. Treage was of Master Killer status at that time and was on the same killing field as that battle, but too far away to witness it. Cagnon Shiry, the commander that fought Karne and died at his hand, was his mentor...and a vicious brute of a soldier he was. Treage never forgot who it was that killed his leader, especially over something so trivial as a slave woman, and he hated Karne with renewed vigor from that moment on.

Karne knew Cagnon thoroughly as well, his tactics and treatment of prisoners. Earlier in the day of that fateful skirmish, he witnessed the brutality of Treage's leader when he helped slaughter dozens of virtually helpless natives, simply for the sport of it. Yes, Karne had known all too well exactly what horrible fate awaited Mishea.

He'd been feeling the call for a dramatic change in his life for quite some time, and that incident was just the impetus he needed. At that particular point, the huge, prominently decorated soldier of the Kreete Triad decided he would no longer support their idealism of conquering for simply the sake of overpowering the weaker foes. He could no longer spill blood for the sheer gratification of crushing an enemy. They were the most dominant beings in the known universe, but all they did was kill, destroy, and move on. He could at last clearly see the destruction and waste produced by that kind of life, and an inner drive began to steer him toward something different. He began to wish for a more worthwhile existence, for something good, for a way to pay back at least some of the debt caused by his people's brutality.

His cycles of faithful service to the Triad had brought him much wealth from a dozen decades of pillaging the spoils of countless battles. He began seeking a new beginning, but it took seven more cycles of nearly unrelenting war before he finally got his chance. He and Mishea moved to the planet, Caron, where he saw an opportunity to start fresh...where he could lead a life untarnished by his people's lust for blood.

The planet was raw and untamed with natives that were strong, tough, proud, and intelligent. The buonta farm he established was barely profitable, but it provided work and food stuffs for thousands of citizens in the neighboring communities, allowing them to gain such staples at half the price of any other area in the Province. He soon found that he could at last do something positive, something that would help another being, and his shame began to subside...just a little.

By that time, Treage had finally achieved the Reaper status as well, and followed his nemesis to Caron for wholly different reasons. His underhanded, back-room investigation showed it as a planet rife with potential for power and wealth, and he meant to have the lion's share of both.

Due to its location, its heavy gravity, its promise of vast quantities of rare minerals, and its population, Caron showed remarkable promise of becoming a very important, if not pivotal, planet in the Triad's empire. Treage staked out an area on the western side of the Taerdrasseg Mountains (an incomparably high range of jagged peaks that separated the enormous continent into two halves). That land was undomesticated and dangerous, with almost no settlements of humans. If compared to the valleys and plains of the east, it was far more of a challenge to establish worthwhile colonies. But he'd arrived after the preferred areas were taken. He would just have to make do.

The west had plenty of resources, but to begin accessing them he needed a workforce. His reputation and lack of diplomacy erased any aid he might otherwise have received from his colleagues, but he didn't allow that to deter him. He merely crushed his way into that region with his hopes high, and struggled for every meager bit of success he could attain. After a long while he finally found a way to make his mark...Kaskle Dangarth of the Aredanz Mountains!

Treage recruited Kaskle personally, when the Caronian was still young, brash, and naïve, and mentored him up through all the ranks allowed to non-Kreete individuals. Treage quickly rose to glory because of the incredibly skilled young man beside him. Kaskle's triumphs in the Caronian Games (Olympic style athletic competition that was both harrowing and deadly) were renown across the Triad. Treage even ordered the young human trained in the use of the Kreete flying ships, from the simple shuttle crafts to the heavy transports, and even some of the atmospheric fighters. That bubble of fame expanded for several cycles and eventually gained Treage the pinnacle of position for a military officer...a seat on the Caronian Ruling Council. He sat at the right hand of the Planet Lord, Gotliig Pigonta, and he was famous across the Triad.

But then Kaskle went rogue!

Due directly to Treage's abuse of Kaskle's fellow mountain clansmen who he'd sworn to leave alone, the Aredanz hero escaped. His people's safety was the primary payment for the champion's loyalty, but Treage had tried to circumvent that oath, searching for more fighters like Kaskle.

That was a colossal mistake...and Treage's position slid considerably.

After that fiasco, until Kaskle was dealt with, he was black-listed.

Treage was sure he'd thwarted the Piercellione Danecore nearly two cycles ago with the Tracker...transported to Caron at his own "astronomical" expense...but when even that failed, and the beast went berserk and escaped, he slid still further from favor. Following that debacle, when the massive Raulden campaign turned to disaster and was eventually attributed to Kaskle as well, Treage's status fell hard once again, to the point where even his peers wouldn't associate with him.

In the meantime, Karne had established the Hellions, and his gladiator camps that produced some of the finest fighters on the planet. He patrolled the largest area and had the least conflicts. Karne did the opposite of Treage though. Instead of storming up the ladder of success, he slowly backed out of the political arena and drifted into his own little area, and relative obscurity. His sons rose in rank and prominence, competing in the bi-quarterly contests to show their proficiency, and further gained Karne the respect of his fellows through his offspring. His entire life seemed lined with gold...and Treage seethed from it.

Eventually, Treage's network of spies, including the listening devices he secretly, and illegally employed, gave him his chance at Ron (whom he was certain was Kaskle), at Shavore. Nonetheless, his prey proved to be as slippery as ever when they failed again to find the trail of the man who was as elusive as a puff of smoke. Later on, when he received word of the destruction of the Flouret station, Treage knew that it was Kaskle. He nearly exploded with glee when he heard that a man matching his Caronian underling's description had been captured at that little waterfall cove, and his hope began to grow anew. When that man nearly escaped twice by means of impossible feats of strength and courage, he was positive he had at last found his old apprentice.

Treage finally faced the man via vid-screen, while Ron was incarcerated at Huinrag, but he had already been under the torturer's control for a week and was almost unrecognizable, so positive identification couldn't be made even with the three dimensional holographic images they'd recorded. When the DNA tests were run, and he was confirmed not to be Kaskle, Treage became extraordinarily enraged; accusing the tests of being rigged and demanding that he question the man himself.

Karne cleverly overrode his authority however, through the legal system of the Kreete's master-slave status. Karne's team had captured the man in the "wilds" and delivered him to Huinrag, which was ruled by Meerstal Chardaal, and so the slave was Meerstal's property then. Treage had no power or jurisdiction in that sector, so when nothing was ever attained from the prisoner, the slave...Ron...was simply condemned to the Retribution Games as Chardaal's fighter.

During that time in the dungeons of Huinrag, Treage's numerous inquiries into the identity of the prisoner were most often denied personally by his nemesis, Karne Gitove. Because of his aggravating interference, Treage decided to look closer into Karne's life, beginning a new undertaking with the single driving purpose of investigating his long-time rival.

When Ron escaped and the massive hunt for him began, Treage managed to weasel his way into heading up that investigation, taking his proposal to the planetary leaders and claiming to have every reason to gain from his recapture and nothing to lose. Many on the Caronian Council saw little hope in the prospects of recapturing such a formidable woodsman/warrior in the open country, and donned such a task as a "no win" scenario, so they voted to turn it over to Treage. They knew he would do everything imaginable to succeed in the hope that some of his once prominent status might be reinstated.

Treage was at last allowed into Karne's region then, and he immediately began to expand his network of spies. He spent a great deal of his personal fortune on information that rarely panned out, but he was determined. When he heard Karne was entertaining guests at his home, and was defended by only a handful of supporting troops, he bribed Mochor Harthen to send in his patrolling strike team, the Avators to investigate. Treage issued orders to the effect that if they felt it was feasible, they were to eliminate Karne and his family. He promised Mochor half the territory that Karne had established if he were successful.

That sortie' met with heavy resistance and many were lost, including Mochor.

Treage took that loss bitterly, but gleaned one tiny gem from it, which led to a reason to destroy his old rival once and for all. One of his men had battled one-on-one with Ron, and the portable video device he wore to gather information about Karne managed to transmit several litas (seconds) of that encounter before he died. The Reaper then brought the results of his inquiry before the Caronian Council as well as the Planet Lord, and was granted permission to use the Kreete Frigate, _Death_ _Merchant_ , for the final blow on the Gitove home. His attack on Karne was considered legal castigation for such crimes as he was accused of. It was the Kreete way to ensure "in-house" diligence and obedience.

After the destruction of the home, Treage placed Cnaut (cybernetic-nimble-autonomous-utilitarian-technician) sentries at various locations to monitor the farm...standard protocol for traitors of the Triad, to see who might show up after the fact. When Ron arrived at the farm, he triggered the motion sensors without realizing it.

Karne however, was well aware of the typical procedures that would be in place, and would normally have left whoever was "topside" to their fate in order to protect his family. Despite that, Josy had drawn a powerful intuitive sensation upon Ron's arrival and she pleaded her case to her father, being compellingly certain that it was Ron...that he'd come back for her. She convinced her father to permit her to check, and her brothers immediately appointed themselves as her guard to go out to see. Karne would have gone himself, but he knew his larger bulk would have just added to the chance of being detected.

Treage was instantly alerted by the "on duty" troops from his command post and so he loaded up a strike team and sent them in. He was furious not to be able to be there himself, but the search for Shartae was following procedures that slowed it down to a crawl and monopolized much of his time in order to provide updated reports to his superiors. He could feel his stomach clenching now, as the thought of another failure going on his record would look profoundly bad for him. He should have been more thorough on the first attack...now he feared he might be too late.

### Chapter Three

### Hunter and Prey

The fugitives flew down a long hallway with several side doors sporadically spaced along it. Ten borts later they rejoined in a far off room which was lined on one entire wall with sophisticated electronic gear, and contained storage cabinets along every inch of the other three. Mishea was there, dressed in what appeared to be camouflage attire with tall boots, riding pants, and a long-sleeved over-shirt to protect her in the thick brush of the forests. She was obviously ready for travel and was handing out packs she'd prepared at some point in the recent past. Each of the seven members of their party received one before she explained their contents quickly. Josy slipped into a similar outfit as her mother while she spoke.

"There is enough food for two torjournes if we ration carefully...enough water for three dactrais...medical supplies for typical injuries...and materials for quick shelters in each. Also, there is currency to purchase more supplies and transportation."

Karne was ignoring his wife's instructions, having full knowledge of the items already. He triggered a viewscreen that illuminated instantly to reveal a topographical map of the bounta-bean farm where they'd lived for so many cycles. The screen showed several red dots moving about the map. Ron knew immediately that each of those dots was a Kreete scout searching the fields.

Karne noticed that Ron was not surprised at the show of such advanced technology, and pondered that fact.

"It is a form of motion tracking that designates positions only," he explained.

"Will the topsiders be able to pick up your scans and pinpoint your equipment?" Ron asked as if he had seen such things everyday...and in fact, the system was not that far advanced from things he'd seen back on Earth, both military and civilian. Even the relatively common radar on the aircraft he'd worked on could provide such information.

"They cannot track it because it is a totally passive system that registers the vibrations of their footsteps instead of sweeping the air."

"Brilliant!" Ron acknowledged.

"Father," Josy's youngest brother, Larsen, interjected, "those two are at the cellar entrance."

Ron saw the point in discussion...where he had been lead to the underground facility...and understood the danger.

"Pop the seal!" Karne ordered.

Neidar flipped a safety switch to the 'on' position. It was designed to unseat a valve on a twelve-inch diameter water pipe which diverted river water into that little storage room. If anyone were to discover the false wall that protected the secret door of their sanctuary, they wouldn't live long enough to use it.

A few tense moments went by before the indicator they were all staring at showed the valve had opened. The two scouts did not escape.

"Time to go!" Karne announced as he then hurriedly moved off again, down another tunnel in a northeast direction.

"We are still finding nothing, sir," Reasde relayed. "The area is now secured, and...wait! Cartoe, put that screen to maximum augmentation and drop the density separator point six...point twelve...Oh no! What direction? Follow it!"

"What have you found?" Treage screamed into the microphone.

"Sir! We have discovered something underground...below the water table. It appears to be a structure of some kind with a series of corridors interconnecting four other structures and a long tunnel moving off to the northeast."

"You have been searching for over half a billot and now you find it?"

"We did not scan below the water table, since the natives do not have the capabilities to construct such structures."

"Well, we are not dealing with natives, now are we? Go after them, you idiot!"

"Yes, sir! We will, sir!"

The ship immediately lowered to the ground with the 'recall' siren blaring away at the scouts dispersed about the farm. Another quarter billot and they were headed off in pursuit of their quarry with half their team in the ship and half dashing to that new heading.

The dim corridor seemed to be endless as Karne's entourage made their way briskly down it for over half a hoz. That long distance from the control room, with no doors or other passageways along its entire length, made it feel easily twice as far. Finally they came to an exit exactly like the one that had been at the entrance. It was sealed with a coded lock and had another viewscreen mounted beside it. Above them the forested high-ground area was covered for another quarter hoz with similar sensors as the farm's main residence, all feeding back to that viewer.

Larsen took a moment to scan the screen and determined that all was clear. Mishea triggered the lock and...

"Wait!" Ron suddenly ordered in an extremely serious tone, causing even Karne to jolt to a stop in the middle of a stride that would have had him exiting the tunnel.

"What is..." the Reaper began.

"Shhhhhhh!" Ron hissed angrily, silencing the giant.

Ron was slowly spinning about by then, his head cocked to the right and his eyes closed...his concentration on maximum sensitivity.

"Do you hear that?" he finally asked as every person in the tight space stood by with his or her breaths held.

No one else acknowledged his question, but each of them strained intensely to do just that.

"Oh, crap!" Ron whispered as he slammed his body to the wall and pressed his ear to the concrete material that formed it. After a few litas, he said, "They're coming!" in a hushed tone.

"Who?" Josy whispered back to him.

The screen that Larson had been monitoring earlier suddenly lit up with nearly every sensor showing evidence of pressure at its location. By then, everyone could feel what Ron had sensed...a nearly imperceptible rumbling. The scout ship was now hovering directly overhead!

### Chapter Four

### Attack

Treage was pacing back and forth in a frantic and tensed attitude and his men gave him a wide berth. He grumbled and growled at the silence of the radio as he waited for news from the ship.

"Reaper, Treage! Sir, the area is devoid of any bipeds within a hoz of the end of that structure, and beyond that it is sparsely populated with small groups of individuals all around, spread out in a ten hoz wide area. With it being dark, we will have no way of distinguishing who it is we seek. We will have to wait until daylight."

"Scan for Kreete signatures, you fool! You should be able to separate them from the humans!"

"Yes, sir! But Reaper, sir...you know as well as I that a simple masking vest would be all they needed to alter their scans enough to elude us...and if Karne has thought enough to have that secret escape plan, he surely would have thought of that as well."

Treage had deduced that contingency too, but hearing it spewed back at him by a subordinate just caused him more aggravation.

"Destroy that underground hideout, you flarge dung! Maybe we will get lucky and they are still in there!"

"Yes sir!"

The fugitive group had been saved by Ron's innate sense for survival, but now it was Karne's turn to issue orders.

"Everyone back!" he shouted as the rumbling intensified. "Back the other way!"

"But I saw no other exit," Ron said, confused at the Reaper's move but hurrying along just the same. "We should attack and try to fight our way through them. In the dark, we might escape."

"I would have, if the ship was not in our path, but we have nothing to handle that kind of firepower. As soon as the entrance is pinpointed, they..."

'Fffffrrrrrooooooooooommmmm!' came the deep, echoing sound of a massive explosion from exactly where they'd been standing, followed shortly by a compression blast that knocked all of them from their feet. They went flying forward and skidded haphazardly on the floor of the tunnel just as the lights winked out.

The eight of them came to a rest several peors further on with their ears ringing and their skulls pounding. Karne was on his feet again immediately, hauling his wife and daughter with him roughly. "Move!"

They barely made it another hundred peors before the way ahead was abruptly destroyed as well. There was a blinding flash followed by a powerful eruption of such intensity that it rocked them to the ground once more, magnifying their bodies' discomforts tenfold and blurring their vision.

"Shit!" Ron growled as he spit dust and debris from his mouth, "Penetrators!"

After the ringing in his ears subsided a tad, he felt the distinct press of the moist nighttime air wafting across his face, undoubtedly rushing in from that gaping hole in their escape route.

"I've had enough of this crap!"

He was off in a blink, tearing along the corridor toward that last explosion, his eyes stinging from the grit of the dust cloud that he had to navigate through. A few hundred feet further brought him to the edge of a debris field where he slowed to pick his way along more carefully over piles of rock and earth. Water was beginning to intrude into the tunnel as well, creating a muddy sludge on the once pristine floor.

When he finally caught a glimpse of the stars twinkling back at him, Ron felt his way onto the settled block debris and tested his footing while dirt swirled all about. He shook the grit and dust from his head and pulled his weapons free, never taking his eyes off the opening above him.

There was a soft breeze pushing into the hole that did a fair job of clearing the dust, so after another couple litas he could see. It was a good thirty feet to the upper lip of the crater the explosion had formed, and he had no idea what might be waiting for him, but he knew the inside of the tunnel was not where he wanted to be. Without further hesitation he leaped as high as he could out of that long, narrow coffin his enemies had intended for him and his friends.

The cone-shaped pile of dirt provided him little to grab onto, but his two swords bit deeply into that soft, loosened soil and kept him from sliding back down. His feet never slowed either, churning furiously until he'd clawed his way to firmer, level ground, and to freedom.

As the ebony blade sunk into the grassy turf of the upper surface, a brilliant flare suddenly burst into life a hundred feet above him and hung there as if suspended from a fixed line. It illuminated the entire area with harsh, white light that washed out most of the normal colors and left the scene an eerie, dismal sight.

Ron's head popped up cautiously, just clearing the ground's level, and his eyes swept the landscape instantly only to find three Kreete scouts moving toward his position...and one was on the radio calling for assistance.

"Sir," came the voice of Reasde into Treage's booth, "we have destroyed the exit point and have opened up several others along the subterranean route, but there is no sign of..."

"Target acquired! Target acquired!"

"What?" Treage screamed back from the communication center. "What is happening?"

"Our ground team has engaged an enemy. They are moving in at him. We are swinging around to approach."

More tense borts drifted by while Treage paced his station...his mouth frothing...anxiously awaiting more audio transmissions.

Each of the charging Kreete soldiers wore light armor and felt fairly safe from the single human foe they now faced...but they didn't comprehend the extent of peril awaiting them. They didn't recognize who it was that gritted and bared his teeth at them like a wild animal, his chest rumbling in a deep, menacing tone that should have alerted them to his deadly intentions.

Those who'd seen Shartae's bouts during the five santaris he spent in the Retribution Games would surely have paused to prepare themselves for such a horrible foe...but those scouts had no clue as to just who it was that they faced...until...

As they closed, an awful, low, growling howl that quickly rose to a spine tingling wail of challenge and ferocity ripped from Ron's lips and announced to all within half a hoz, just what creature now made ready for battle.

"Shartae" was a name that struck pride in every human male that didn't have to face him, and fear in every Kreete soldier within his reach. He was widely known as the most famous, most fearless, most vicious, longest surviving participant in the death-sentence matches known as the Retribution Games. He was a foe who'd been dubbed unassailable to all form of man or beast...and now he was loose among them!

Ron quickly noted the ship which had been moving back along the tunnel, dropping more of the ground piercing charges. It was hoping to either kill or trap Karne's party below ground. He saw it begin a quick turn as soon as that soldier called for assistance, and estimated its time to his position. An instantaneous clock began ticking in his mind...but there were other matters to attend to, and they were closer!

He heaved himself over the lip of the depression and rolled sharply; using the additional inertia of that maneuver to aid the speed of his arm as it released a beautiful, foot-long shaft of blue steel, directly into the chest of the lead attacker. The metal plate he wore in that location was designed to stop swords, arrows, even off-center ax blows, but it could not prevent or deflect that razor-edged missile from its target. Five steps further on, the scout fell limply to the ground and his fellows stuttered in their attack, suddenly unsure of their unrivaled superiority.

Now it was Ron's turn to attack...and he did not hesitate! He rushed at the two Kreete who then stood shoulder to shoulder with their shields at the ready, prepared to do battle as they always had, with brute force. It wasn't another Kreete they faced however, but a demon-man who was rumored to be invincible in battle.

Ron feigned a hacking blow to the scout at his right and dove to the ground beside the fellow's feet, the black sword whistling through the air as if made of solid shadow. The scout blocked outwardly at the apparent position of Ron's flashing sword and countered with a powerful swing of his own...but his blade found nothing but empty air, and then he felt his left knee tingle with a cold sensation...just before he sensed himself falling. His mind couldn't understand why he was no longer connected to anything below that joint.

Ron's momentum carried him through another swift tumble that left him behind his final adversary, and when he surged forward, there were no more fancy moves on his mind. He came in with his blades flashing and sparks dancing off of his enemy's sword and shield. The scout fell back quickly, overwhelmed by the onslaught of meshing steel that battered his blade to the side and smashed his shield so frequently that he felt the friction of the blows heating up that metal barrier. Ron pounded away for a brief while longer before he finally crushed the defense of the floundering Kreete and the intricately carved hand guard of his short sword slapped audibly against the helmet of the scout...its tip protruding a foot out the back of that metal headgear.

Ron detected the faltering moans of the wounded soldier to his left and silenced him with a quick backstroke of the dark blade...his eyes and ears already scanning the immediate area.

He wondered briefly at why he still was alone on the turf until he took a few steps back to the crater. Larson and Neidar were trying to climb out of that pit, but the soft-churned ground could not support their more massive bodies, and they kept sliding back down, even with the use of their long, deadly claws.

The scout ship was coming up fast by then and Ron could hear a large number of troops clanking in his direction from the opposite way, so he knew he had little time.

"Toss me a rope!" he shouted down into the black hole.

Nearly instantaneously, a coil of stout cord shot out to him and he spun about to find a solid point to fasten it to...but there was nothing within reach of the end of that line. He needed a tree, but they were nowhere nearby, cut back away from the area, undoubtedly when they'd excavated the tunnel. Ron knew he didn't have the time to haul each of his party up himself, but a quick glance at the corpses gave him an idea.

Their combined dead weight created a perfect anchor for his needs, so he dragged the three of them together hastily and slipped the rope through their belts. He worked furiously until an arrow sunk into one of them as he tried to tie the final knot, just missing his chest, and forced him to pause.

Before he could move to defend himself though, he heard a strumming sound from behind and saw the archer off to his right stagger sideways as an arrow impacted his shoulder.

"I see a Caronian engaged with our scouts," called the commander in the shuttle to Treage's vantage point. "He has vanquished two, no all three, and is..."

"Another human has emerged from the tunnel," reported the pilot, having a better view of the fight, "and is aiding the first! They are defending an open pit. What the...get down you fools! Sir, four...now five of our men are down!"

"Continue," ordered a voice from behind Ron. "I'll cover you!"

Ron growled at the sound of Roe's voice, hating to have him in such a supporting role...but he had little choice. Five litas later, the rope was secured.

"Try it!" Ron shouted as he pulled his own bow around and set up a position to help guard the blown-out earthen pit.

The line drew taught instantly, and for just a moment he wondered if his plan would hold, but he was put to work straight away and could worry about it no more...the Kreete reinforcements had arrived.

They were just coming into his visual range and he cursed that flare for providing him no cover, but he would not abandon his post.

The enemy soon had five soldiers racing forward at him, and a good number charging Roe. Two scouts dropped at the receiving end of Ron's aerial weapon and two others were wounded enough to slow them down. Roe accounted himself equally well, but by then they were both overrun and had to toss the long range weapons aside to meet the newest attack.

Ron fell back to Roe's location with one of the Kreete's shields looped loosely to his arm...it being far too large to secure properly. He could just see Karne's head rising above the surface of the ground at the edge of the depression before he was compelled to brace himself for battle.

The ricochets of several arrows sounded sharply against that heavy steel barrier he gripped, but didn't stop them all as one rebounded into his side, just above his right hip. He felt the burn of the wooden missile, and knew exactly what had occurred, but didn't flinch as two scouts wailed away at his protection.

The impact of the huge creatures' battle axes crushed even his impressive defense and forced Ron to his knees, blocking one with the shield and narrowly deflecting the other with his sword. That huge, double sided weapon just grazed his thigh as it sunk into the ground, and more of Ron's blood fell to the grass.

An angry snarl escaped his lips as the black saber clashed with the heavier device, able to keep it at bay, but unable to strike. Then suddenly one of the attackers flew away to the side, surprising the other so much that he froze and didn't even attempt to block Ron's thrusting sword.

Ron sprang upward with the ebony razor leading the assault and buried the blade through the metal chest-plate, through his thickly muscled torso, and through the protective back-plate as well. The scout reached out to grab at his killer but Ron slammed into him with his shoulder hard enough to lift him from his feet and send him tumbling into the crater, and eventually into the underground corridor.

Ron took a hasty look at the soldier who'd exited the fight in such rapidity and found him dead, twenty feet away...an ax buried completely into his ribs. Karne Gitove was now part of the combat!

"Now six," called Reasde Oudrec, "...make that eight of our soldiers are dead. More scouts are moving in from the perimeter.

"Someone else is emerging from the pit. Reaper Treage! It's Karne! Karne Gitove is here! He is with the Caronians!"

"Fire on them!" Treage ordered frantically. "Destroy them all!"

"We cannot comply, Sir!" replied the pilot. "Article twenty-one prohibits the use of energy weapons on the natives unless they are so armed!"

"I know the dragen law, you stupid fool! Follow my orders!"

"We have another dozen from our strike team closing on them now, so we cannot. I will land and deliver the rest of the troops. That should handle it."

"You had better be right!"

As Karne drew up to his full, ominously imposing height, the newest attackers slowed their pace considerably, preferring to wait for more help. The Reaper had left his youngest son down in the pit to guard the women, but Neidar managed to scramble up and join Roe at the other direction.

"What madness is this?" queried the pilot. "Another Kreete is now in the battle alongside the Caronians...it is Neidar!"

A dozen scouts now ringed the four outlaws completely, and that would have been enough to cause any normal souls to acquiesce, but this group was like no other in the history of warfare...and so without a moment's hesitation, the four charged the much larger band with easily distinguishable roars issuing from each.

Karne swung his two axes like they were short-swords, swiftly and nimbly, and with unbelievable power. One blow to an opponent's shield smashed him to the ground with its force, his arm crushed and his leg snapped when the edge of that heavy metal safeguard was driven into it with acute ferocity. Another felt the unstoppable cleaving edge of that blade's twin as it blew through his blocking thrust to bury itself into his skull. Karne quickly cleared a swath that stood at six feet around him...the maximum reach of those terrible blades...and his adversaries were in no hurry to venture into that kill zone.

Ron stayed as close to Karne as he could, making sure that they were not outflanked, and caught a glimpse of just what it was like to be in true, all-out war against such a creature...and he was very impressed to say the least.

Ron himself also dealt out a good amount of grief to the congregated attackers. His blades flashed and darted in and around those who dared cross swords with him, his blinding speed outpacing his larger foes handily. He was soon engaging three Kreete soldiers at once while keeping track of any changes in the battle around him. A bort later he'd crippled two of his opponents before a new development forced a quick retreat.

Two archers moved in between the swordsmen that challenged Karne, and leveled their weapons at the giant Kreete. They had him cold too, because he lacked the protection of any shield, but suddenly twin, ten-inch messengers appeared out of the dark and delivered their resounding denial at that attempt. Those slim daggers each found a roost in the necks of the bow-wielding scouts...and then the black sword was once more on the hunt.

Treage's updates were supplying him with none of the news he'd wished for, and that caused him a great amount of irritation. His visions of revenge, conquest, and glory were quickly sliding away on an ever-increasing grade, and he knew it.

"You men in the back...to battle!" Treage heard the Raptor leader shout as he left the pilot alone in the cockpit and took personal command of the new attack force.

Roe and Neidar held their ground well also, and it looked like the four had fought to at least a stalemate, but then the scout ship landed only a couple hundred feet away and as the wide door slide aside, a surge of new, fresh troops leaped to the turf.

Ron cursed that confounded flare one last time as he felt they'd surely met their end. They had no chance to evade those soldiers, and no real hope to prevail against them. But just when that thought flashed across his mind, Roelantish reached back into his belt pack, pulled out a softball sized device, and squeezed it hard.

Ron saw the bounty-hunter's motion out of the corner of his eye and heard a distinct "click" before Roe's arm shot forward hurriedly. The big brute then fell back with a warning shout.

"Get down!"

Neidar saw that object flying toward the ship and retreated immediately as it morphed into a bright blue, glowing orb. The surrounding enemy scouts that would have pressed their advantage all took a fleeting look at what was sailing through the air, and then they too instantly disengaged and dove to the ground as well.

Ron simply dropped to one knee, not knowing what was about to happen, but Karne's huge right arm slammed across his shoulders and pressed him down harshly, profoundly aware of exactly what would soon transpire.

"We are down, Reaper Treage," reported the pilot. "The Septenant and his men should have little prob...NOOOOOOO!"

### Chapter Five

### Escape

It all occurred in less than three full litas, but it seemed much longer to Ron.

The flying blue object arched upward and caught the eye of the shuttle's pilot at once, he being intent on the fight that was underway only a short distance to his immediate right. He'd been well schooled in all forms of weapons and knew that what was sailing at his ship could easily cripple it at the very minimum. His training and his orders to protect his craft at all cost sent him swiftly into direct action...an action that was totally wrong.

"What is happening?" Treage demanded...his veins full of ice from that panicked scream.

"Grenade!" shouted Reasde Oudrec.

The pilot slapped down on the pressure point of his touch sensitive control panel at the spot that governed the shields, and those protective layers snapped into formation once more at maximum power...but it was too late...the radiant device was already past their perimeter.

'Whhhhoooooooommmmmm!' was the last sound Treage heard from the communication system.

The shield that had formed around the shuttle was an energy shell of interwoven charged matter that could completely protect the vessel from such weapons, both of the physical sort as well as the energy kind, and it was extremely effective. The only drawback to that strength was the fact that when it initiates, whatever might be in its way would be hit by the entire blast of energy that makes it up.

Three charging Kreete scouts were captured in that field and disintegrated. A fourth lost his arm and half his long-sword to the barrier and was left shocked and bewildered at that fact. The rest of the exiting assault force pulled up short, seeing the green-tinged surface of the shield materialize directly in their faces.

The thermite/plasma grenade struck the ship at the forward end of the right engine nacelle, just forward of the wing, its casing having changed into a soft, sticky substance that allowed it to adhere to virtually anything.

"Down!" Reasde shouted out as he dropped face-first to the grass.

By the time it took the sound of that wet splat to reach Ron, the device exploded into a white-hot flash of incredibly destructive energy.

Typically, the grenade would have cut into the nacelle and destroyed the engine, spreading jagged shards of metal all around for a hundred peors and threatening anyone in the area. But since the nearly impenetrable shield had been initiated by the pilot to defend them...to keep that weapon away...the blast was contained within the protective sphere and enhanced considerably due to that fact. As a result, it held every ounce of its explosive energy within its small confines...with horrendous consequences.

The entire side of the ship imploded from the massive concussion that ensued, shredding every Kreete soldier outside the ship with the ricocheting debris, and hurling all the troops inside the craft violently against the walls, their bodies compressed brutally by the blast. Even in the well-protected flight compartment the pilot felt the effects painfully, and rocked in his chair as if he'd been physically struck, holding his skull in his hands while blood drained from his ears.

As the detonation of that weapon resounded through the speakers in Treage's command station, he himself exploded in a fit of rage, understanding precisely what that sound meant.

"Aaaaaaarrrrrgghh!" Treage roared as he tore his sword free and cleaved the radio in two.

"Get my transport readied! I will handle this myself!"

"But, sir! The council will not approve."

"Do as I say! I can use my ship when and where I please, just not for warfare against the Caronians!"

He turned away from his men and pounded his fist down on the nearest workstation.

"I should have known you would anticipate such an attack, Karne!" he grumbled to himself. "I would have!"

Outside that force-field barrier, the only thing anyone felt was a strong rumble through the ground...so Karne, the most experienced man on the battlefield, was up and on the move before that vibration had even ceased...straight at the shuttle.

The shield flickered briefly and went out, the blast having put too much strain on the one remaining operating engine, thus leaving the craft open to attack from the enemy force.

The pilot's vision settled to a light blur after a moment and he checked the ship's systems immediately. It was bad! He had no shields even charging, no weapons' control, minimal power on the one remaining engine, and massive structural degradation along the entire right side. At best, he could limp the ship back to base empty.

A flashing form caught his eye at that moment however, and refocused his attention outside the wounded vessel where an immense individual was charging directly at him. His cycles of training took hold once more and his fingers called for maximum thrust from that single straining power plant, urging the damaged craft into the air with all haste.

Karne's maniacal attack had slowed only long enough to scoop up a dropped spear from the bloody battleground as he passed. He ran flat out, his huge body blazing across the open grassy meadow much faster than Ron would have guessed. When he reached a point that was as close as he would get to the now retreating ship, the remaining coherent warriors behind him heard the report of a tremendous grunt. His gargantuan arm let loose that ten-foot-long rod of hardwood, tipped with a two-foot-long, seven bladed spearhead, and it was a literal blur.

The spear entered the lower section of the hull, directly below and adjacent to the pilot, and kept moving until only a foot of it was left outside the fuselage. Karne couldn't tell exactly what he'd accomplished, but hoped for the best as he immediately broke his attention from that speeding ship and turned back to the main battle.

The scout transport soared up to the height of the treetops, hastily exiting the area and spinning swiftly around until it pointed west...back in the direction from which it had come. It soon disappeared into the darkness, outside the dome of light the hovering flare was producing, until only its superheated exhaust plume could be seen in the distance.

By then, the surviving five Kreete scouts were once again engaged with Ron, Roe, and Neidar. The gnashing of metal weapons rang out clearly and sharply in the cool night air, until...

"Hold!" came a loud, bellowing order from the Reaper class warrior. It was a command that brought everyone to a stop...even Ron who then backed away quickly from his adversaries, wondering what Josy's immense father had in mind.

"Neidar, Roe, Ron...step back!"

They complied with his wish, carefully separating themselves from their opponents while still watching them intently. They each breathed heavily from the stress of the fight, but all were in good shape to continue as none were too badly injured.

"You soldiers," Karne barked at the five scouts. "You attacked me and my family! Your quarrel will now be concluded with 'me'...and no others!"

Karne's battle-axes lay on the ground near Ron, where he'd left them to make his attack on the ship, so now he drew his long and short swords and calmly stepped forward.

An ominous commotion reached them just then from behind Karne, from the direction the ship had gone. They could all clearly tell that it was the demise of the shuttle...it crashing into the Kessleton River with a horrendous splashing explosion.

The pilot's life extinguished over that waterway due to the two inch thick rod of wood completely impaling his body.

Karne did not look back...did not slow down...did not flinch in the slightest. He simply walked up to the enemy band and paused, calmly allowing them to surround him.

Ron's pulse quickened again, but there was no need. Karne already knew in which order he would kill each of them!

The most impetuous scout shot forward in a lunging attack to Karne's back, thinking he had some advantage because the Reaper couldn't see him. The massive leader moved with blurred speed at that hacking blade and slapped it aside offhandedly. Then the scout felt the uncompromising wrath of such a formidable creature as Karne Gitove. The Hellion commander punched the scout's shield with his giant fist...while still gripping his sword...and the fellow went flying off his feet and well out of reach. The Reaper's hand may as well have been an iron battering ram!

As that soldier left the ground, Karne was already parrying the next closest foe's blade and stepping toward him. The Reaper's four foot length of double-edged steel slipped behind the scout's shield in such a smooth and precise manner that the soldier simply froze...his body skewered entirely.

Karne then brought his knee up sharply, forcing the dying warrior's shield into the path of the next incoming blade as if the move had been extensively choreographed. His short sword then whipped up seemingly from nowhere to smash into the side of the attacker's helmet, sending him reeling away several steps with that ringing blast.

Karne continued on in a blazing, spinning motion and caught the next weapon screaming in at him with all the power the trooper could muster. The blade suddenly seemed to just hang there in midair though...motionless...locked against his foe's defense. Karne's newly freed long sword flew in and separated the fellow's arm from his shoulder, speeding further along to crash into the shield of the next opponent, a blow that clearly shook the warrior hard. That shock destroyed the scout's intended angle of attack, and left him open to a long sweeping leg that sent him sailing to his back.

The fifth and most advanced Kreete, a Tusepten, saw his opening and lunged. His sword tip sped inward only inches from Karne's cloth-covered chest, but as if he could literally feel the location of the weapon, Karne twisted his body hard, outpacing the razor killing device by the slimmest of margins. That powerful thrust carried the Tusepten forward much farther than he intended...and into the reach of the Reaper. Karne dropped his blades and grabbed the sword arm of his adversary in his enormous hands. The Tusepten realized his predicament instantly and smashed Karne with his heavy shield and all the shoulder he could manage, but Karne absorbed that blow, quickly switching his grasp to the outer edge of the shield and shoving back hard. That heavy metal barrier jabbed up into the commander's throat forcefully enough to snap his thick neck and hurl him fifteen feet away.

Karne retrieved his two swords quickly, turning back to the last two scouts. They stood against him like true warriors, showing no outward signs of fear...and perished the same way!

When the last scout fell, Karne turned from the massacre and stepped toward the crater...toward his family who still hid there.

"They died well," was all he said.

Ron recalled, with perfect clarity, his own sword-to-sword conflicts with Karne, and mentally updated his opinion of Josy's giant father. "He was definitely holding back against me!"

They all rejoined at the edge of the depression and Karne turned to Ron.

"Are there more?"

Having already carefully swept the area with his hyper-keen senses, Ron replied, "No...I think not."

"Larson," Karne called softly down into the crater...always the intelligent, wary soldier, "send them up."

To Ron's surprise, the lovely ladies, not what you would normally think of as "strong", climbed out on their own...and quite handily. Larson followed immediately, and after many quick inspections of one another, aided by that infernal flare, Mishea and Josy got them all tended and patched up in a hurry...one excellent benefit of having the Kreete's advanced med-packs at their disposal. The inspection fortunately proved that none of their numerous injuries was life threatening. Even Ron's arrow wound and nasty gash were already mostly stopped from bleeding, so after Josy thoroughly cleaned the damage and added a thick layer of synthaskin, he was good to go.

After retrieving each of their salvageable weapons of war, they all pitched in and dragged the nearby soldiers over to the pit and dumped them into it. The last bit of subterfuge Karne could think of was to drop an incendiary charge, removed from the Tusepten's person, down into the tunnel. There its blast would obliterate the mass of bodies and make it a very time-consuming task to identify the remains, obscuring and delaying any confirmation of the accomplishment or failure of the attack.

At that point, the Gitove group set off again to the northeast, leaving the still burning flare as a beacon to the deadly battlefield...a place that had once been a gentle, peaceful, beautiful meadow of grass.

The three Kreete warriors donned their light-enhancing eyewear as they all filed out into the deep, shadowy obscurity of the Caronian night. Neidar took point, followed by Karne who was trailed by Mishea closely. Ron was next with Josy in tow, followed by Roe, and Larsen served as their rear guard.

Ron was impressed with the group. The soldiers were well trained and moved quietly, as did Ron and Roe of course, but it was the ladies that received a smile from him. They maintained a fine amount of stealth and didn't hinder the expedition in the least. Karne had been very thorough in the training of his family!

Only once did they have to brace themselves for an impending attack, when another ship...one much larger than the shuttle...moved slowly overhead and then looped around back to the east. But when it failed to return above them, they knew their party was safe.

"How is it that the ship could have missed us?" Ron asked of Karne when the sounds of the flying craft drifted away.

Karne simply tapped his pack and said, "Scattering field."

Ron then realized that they were each carrying some type of device that could disrupt the sensors of the enemy vessel, and he grinned at the sound preparation of his host.

The group moved through the thick forest steadily all night long in a fashion that did well to mask their intended destination, and as the end of the long billots of darkness approached, they paused for a respite and a conference.

"Karne," Ron said as they rested and ate a hasty breakfast, watching the white star flood the land with its brilliance, "what's your plan?"

The nine-and-a-half-foot-tall warrior released a hideous grin and replied, "I was hoping you might have developed one, since deception is your people's specialty...the rebels, I mean."

Karne was not concerned with his own welfare in the least. He and his two sons would just as soon break away from the group and attack those who now hunted them, but Mishea and Josy were another matter and needed their protection.

"In that case, I recommend that we make our way to the training facility we're organizing, and keep your existence a secret from those outside of Gardilane for as long as we can. There are accommodations for you all in the instructional compound that should be comfortable as well as hidden from the common population. That will be about as safe as you can hope for."

"Very well then. How do we proceed?"

"The women are not being hunted. I can escort them straight ahead without much suspicion, posing as their bodyguard, which would give me good cause to dress in the shrouded garb that would hide me as well."

Karne considered that plan. "That sounds plausible enough. What about the rest of us?"

"You are well-known and will be impossible to disguise with such a hunt as will surely be amassed. You, Larsen, and Neidar should go east to the next ridgeline and then turn north. It's wild country that way and so you should have no one to interfere with you along that route. Hide your trail as best you can, just in case the posse gets this far...and try to keep a low profile.

"I really doubt that you will be followed, but take no chances. I will be waiting at the point where the Saincey River takes a hard bend at the base of the mountain, where the erosion has created a huge vertical cliff."

"I know it well," Karne acknowledged. "Six or seven dactrais on foot."

"Good! Be wary on your journey...especially at night. There are many predators that might try their luck at you...and not all of them walk and run. There are plenty of flying creatures that hunt in the night, and tales of the verdure that set snares for those who encroach through its domain."

Karne grinned and nodded. "What of this one?" he asked of Roe.

"Baushe'," Mishea cut in, using the same pet name for her husband as Josy used with Ron. "May I have a word with you?" she asked, stepping aside with her huge mate.

Ron spent a few moments glaring at Roe, uncertain as to what to do with him. He would just as soon finish the fight they'd started back in the bunker.

"I will accept your plan with a slight change," Karne said to Ron as he and his wife rejoined the group. "The boys and I will take the eastern route, but Mishea wishes to be with her family and I request that Roe guide us."

Ron could not suppress his surprise at the suggestion and turned to stare at the woodsman.

"He is an experienced man of the mountains, is he not?" Karne asked.

Ron nodded hesitantly.

"Well then, it is settled. You go on ahead and make the arrangements at the compound, and we will meet you at the designated point as soon as we can. Josy, do you wish to join us or travel with Ron?"

She walked up and hugged her mother goodbye without a thought, then blew her father a kiss and latched onto Ron's arm. "Be safe! We shall see you soon."

### Chapter Six

### The Waterfall

Ron and Josy watched her family and Roelantish vanish into the underbrush with conflicting emotions. Ron was full of anger at Roe's apparent ties to Josy's family, and worried that he would somehow betray them as he'd done to him and Cache.

"At least," he consoled himself, "Karne has his sons and an Intuit to watch his back."

Josy was anxious for them because she feared how far the Kreete would go to find and slay them, knowing from past experiences her father had relayed that vengeance was not something his people took lightly.

After a few moments though, they pushed those concerns to the back of their minds and then began their own trek northward. They were still in dense forest and didn't want to leave a clear trail, which made the going slow and painstaking, but both of them were well aware of what needed to be done so neither voiced complaints.

The level of immediate danger they were in was unknown, so Ron would typically have kept any and all sounds to a bare minimum, but this was different. It was their first time alone since they'd parted on the morning following the fierce battle at the farm, before the obliteration of her home, so Ron let a bit of his normal caution wane to speak with her.

"I'm very sorry about your beautiful home, Josy," he whispered.

"Thank you, Baushe'. It has been very trying on us all, especially mother. We have lived there for almost my entire life...since I was four, I think...and I clearly remember watching with wonder and amazement as hundreds of workers toiled to build it."

She paused for a long while, lost in her memories of a childhood spent exploring such a grand, new adventure. Ron allowed her that quiet reflection as he constantly scanned the surrounding woods, slipping through the thick growth without so much as a click of broken twig. After a good while, Josy returned to the present and grabbed Ron's hand, pulling him to a stop and into her arms.

Ron had no problem with that little pause and drank deeply from her lips. She was so beautiful, so sensuous, and so easy to love. When their lips parted, Ron held onto her longer, studying his amazing lover...and that, she minded not in the least.

She allowed him a long, drawn out examination of her without protest or feigning embarrassment...her intuit abilities letting her know why he was feeling the need for such a moment. He'd lived in near panic for a day and a half of arduous travel. He'd pushed himself and his poor mount to the edge of physical exhaustion to get to her, to see if it was true that the woman he'd fallen in love with had been killed. Then, just as he was unwinding from that desperate flight, the confrontations at the bunker had sent him surging into peril and battle once more. Now, as she held him, and her touch cooled the bestial fires of his drive to prevail against his enemies, she felt his emotions shedding that burden and replacing it with other thoughts...thoughts that were filled with her. He was once more at peace...at peace and so very happy.

Ron memorized her as she allowed him, and was amazed. Although they'd been on the run more than fourteen billots now, under the strain of their deadly situation and through the hot, moist climate of Caron, her hair still retained its glossy shimmer. Those long black waves seemed to deliberately defy the climate even as the tips of the layer against her skin dripped with perspiration. Her dark skin was flawlessly smooth under the sheen of a salty coating and of such an even caramel coloring that it gave him the urge to taste of her anytime he was in her proximity. Josy's face was absolute perfection of symmetry, as was her entire figure, and her full, deeply red lips parted with breath-robbing power as they formed her dazzling smile.

Her petite nose gave accent to her high, flushed cheeks and added a level of beauty to her that Ron found to be...well...purely delightful. He gazed into her eyes and was mesmerized by them all over again, as they were large and very clear, even under the current strain, with not a single red line to be seen. Those entrancing orbs were deep chocolate brown...radiating her charm and warmth, but had a starburst band of sapphire blue around their corneas that flashed with the fires of her passion. And those gems of heavenly entrancement were trimmed in lashes that were easily half an inch in length.

A few litas staring into her face cranked his internal furnace to "max-hot" and his heart was once more running full bore...only this time, instead of battle, he was after another form of release.

"My God, you're gorgeous!" he whispered.

Josy's eyes went smoky and glazed from her own inner fires making their demands, tempting her powerfully toward quenching her cravings right then and there, but a tremendous screech of a passing bird abruptly broke the two lovers' trance.

"I should be...we had better get moving," Ron said with a terribly dry mouth and a hasty scan of the woods for any enemy.

"Later then," Josy returned in a very husky tone.

"Count on it!"

The couple walked all morning before coming to a road that cut across their path, east to west, and forced them to make a decision. Ron had to guess which way to continue and admired his luck when they were strolling into a small town a short while later.

Josy was very familiar with that region of the territory and recognized the name of the place, Seedanz, right away. She immediately directed Ron which way would take them to the village of Gardilane, where his men were rallying and organizing the training facility.

Once their route was settled, Ron led Josy around the perimeter of the town to come up just behind the stables. They weren't far enough away from her home that he could be sure she would not be immediately recognized, so he stayed cautious. Josylinia Gitove wasn't an easily forgettable person to any healthy man, so he bid her wait under the cover of a tree with very low hanging limbs while he made some adjustments to his appearance. He removed a hat with a huge, drooping brim out of his pack, thanking Mishea for her extraordinary preparations once more, and pulled it down low to hide his disfigurements. Then he donned his cloak to obscure his weapons and his arms and drifted casually into the large barn.

Half a billot later, he walked out leading a large, fine looking pony the size of a Clydesdale, and meandered around to her by a circuitous path, constantly watching his surroundings. Once he was confident of the status of their anonymity, Ron lifted Josy's cloaked figure easily into the saddle and they walked out of the town slowly, him leading her horse as a servant might do.

They stopped for lunch a few hoz further on and then doubled up on the mount for a while, Josy clinging to him lovingly as the big steed trotted along.

Later in the day, they repeated the act of picking up a horse and tack in the next town and were then making great time. There had been no sign of pursuit, no extra anxiety in the towns, and not a single Kreete soldier on the road all day, so even though he didn't understand why, Ron was confident that they were finally in the clear.

"Well," Ron said, as they trotted along briskly in the waning sunlight of the evening, "we'd better find a good spot for the night."

Josy was about to let him choose some place to the side of the road when they drifted past a large boulder that appeared completely out of place, causing her to stare at it intently. Since there were no other such natural markers anywhere on the road, it caught her attention and tugged at an almost forgotten memory...and then she suddenly recalled where she was.

"Oh...I know a place!" she blurted quickly. "I came here once before, with my father and brothers, during a business trip. Follow me!"

Off she tore down a narrow side road for over two hoz before slowing to a walk. Ron pulled up beside her and started to question the significance of the locale before he heard the roar in the distance.

The small road dwindled abruptly into a tight path for a bit further before it opened up again at the edge of a large pond...the catch pool of a fabulous, fifty-foot waterfall. That spectacular flow was split in two by an enormous shard of rock jutting out of the water at the upper lip, creating twin falls of equal splendor.

It looked right out of a picture-postcard from Yellowstone National Park, and Ron paused a few moments to take it all in.

The wide stream was lined closely on either side by thick forest vegetation, and framed the frothing, sparkling water perfectly. After collecting in the pond, the endless torrent exited to the west through a series of two, four-foot drops that churned with white water as well. Following gravity's influence, it bounded this way and that across and under large, rounded rocks until disappearing a quarter hoz downhill into the wild forest.

The rich, blue sky above that magnificent scene was graced by a few very white clouds drifting lazily by with Kika, (Caron's second largest moon) at near full luminescence, hanging just to the northwest above the falls. Ron smiled at the sight, always having been an ardent admirer of nature's beauty.

After a bort or two though, his thoughts returned to more practical issues.

"Boy, I could really use a dip in that!" he muttered to himself. "I smell like an overheated goat!"

Josy set about making a camp while Ron conducted a thorough sweep of the pond and its surrounding woodland, taking note of any track or sign of a creature that may be dangerous to them, but found none that were fresh.

When he returned, he found their accommodations in perfect order with a primitive shelter built and wood gathered, but no Josy. He immediately stood tall and began a visual investigation, a prickly feeling starting up his spine. A moment later though, he spied his gorgeous partner and relaxed. She was carefully picking her way through the shrubbery toward the waterfall and so he set off in pursuit, closing the gap with her just in time to witness her glancing about quickly before she began to strip.

Ron pulled up short at that, and stood next to a sapling tree which partially hid him from her view. His heart quickly leaped to his throat and the engine that powered his sexual drive revved hard.

He watched carefully as she kicked off her calf-high boots and unlaced the trousers she wore. One last cautious look about allowed her to spot her voyeur...Ron...leaning against that nearby tree. She jumped at first, startled to find she was not alone, but then a dazzling smile lit up her face and she continued with her task...only now she moved incredibly slowly!

She inched the waistline down first on one side, then the other, acting as if it was a very difficult chore to accomplish.

Ron's lips parted slightly as his breath came shallow and fast and his heart pounded in his chest so loudly he thought she must be able to hear it...but he did not move.

Finally, she managed the task...her form-fitting shorts and outer britches clearing the flare of her marvelous hips at last, and then down they slid, her body bending haughtily at the waist, and her raven triangle becoming briefly exposed to Ron's straining eyes.

The erotic nature of her movements was completely mesmerizing, and so his temperature nudged upward even further until he could no longer sense the world around the two of them. If a Kreete scout ship had landed a hundred feet away it would have gone unnoticed as he was completely transfixed.

Josy worked the trousers down her tanned thighs, seemingly ignoring Ron completely, slipping each of her fantastic, silken legs free with unbelievable daintiness before flipping that piece of clothing away playfully. When she straightened herself up, the bottom of her long sleeved, camouflaged shirt covered her enticing nether region by just a razor thin margin, and she paused there for a few moments, watching Ron from the corners of her eyes.

Next, she pulled at the lacing of that garment and it began to spread open...a little at first...just a tease, until it had revealed all it could. Then she helped it along by gripping the lower edge, and in one smooth, sweeping motion, lifted it up and over her head, and then down her slender arms until it finally slipped away. She managed that seductive, brazen maneuver while giving Ron a look of innocent, schoolgirl bashfulness.

Josy was now bared to his eyes from the lower swell of her bosom down; the sweetness of her slim waist accentuated spectacularly by the alluring dip of her navel...and Ron swallowed hard. The entrancing caramel coloring of her toned body shown completely unbroken in each and every delicious curve of her incomparable figure...and he began to breathe more raggedly through his opened mouth, his inhalations growing stronger and quicker.

It seemed like five borts had passed as Ron's comprehension of time and space narrowed to an extreme extent. His brain raced, producing high speed snapshots of every minute detail of this experience and burning it all into his permanent memory...but in reality, it had only been litas...and there was so much more to come.

As Josy's blouse slid from her fingertips, one hand slowly reached up to her neck, into that long, wavy mass of sable hair, and released the clasp of her halter-top.

The dark green cloth succumbed to gravity's influence instantly, but her large, voluptuous, spectacular breasts did not, standing out proudly and defiantly...expecting to be viewed...and daring to be resisted. One last move of her hand and the lower clasp was undone, and she stood before Ron as starkly nude as the moment of her birth.

His grip on that tree had been slowly increasing as he watched until now the bark was actually crumbling in his palm!

Josy reveled in Ron's attention and took a few moments to stretch her arms and her back...arching and twisting in exquisite, maddening positions.

Ron thought his heart would explode.

Finally, that breathtaking vision of female flawlessness turned and stepped toward the falls once more, her posterior view being as sensuous as the front. Josy's legs were firm and shapely, and the swell and contour of her derriere seemed absolutely sumptuous, almost made-to-order, causing Ron's mouth to water as those glorious hips swaying scandalously when she walked.

The edge of the falls was undercut a small amount, leaving an ideal ledge on which to stand and enjoy the natural shower, it having a narrow space under the water's arcing main flow that was merely a heavy drizzle...a fine shower spray. That flat, stony surface of the natural shelf even extended out far enough for a bather to step into the primary flood as well, if the full force of the stream was preferred.

Josy tread lightly out on it, easing into the heavy spray of cool water, but she jerked quickly to a stop, the chilly temperature of the fluid shocking her a bit. A moment later though, after acclimating herself to it, she moved forward again and was engulfed in the endless, exhilarating flow of the falls.

Ron would have felt a bit guilty, a bit crude at taking so much pleasure from the spectacle that was her flagrant nudity, if he could have had a clear thought. As it was though, he was numb to every consideration of decency and chivalry...he just wantonly craved her.

When she turned around again, he made an observation that the water was undoubtedly cold as he saw her large areolas pursed tightly enough that the sheet of water cascading down her body was divided around those succulent points of flesh...and he gulped again.

When she first sauntered up to the falls, Ron hadn't noticed (somehow) that she was carrying an object in her hand. Now it made itself perfectly clear to him as thick white lather appeared as she passed her hands along her flesh, and then was quickly washed away. His teeth ground together powerfully as his primal imagination envied that bar of soap tremendously.

Josy turned her face upward then; scrubbing and rinsing her long hair until it hung straight back, tight against her scalp, while the thick suds drizzled down her spectacular body, weaving in and around her luscious curves.

The scene resembled an erotic, fantasy photo shoot for some pin-up magazine which had miraculously come to life before him...one he never wanted to end. Even the setting sun, cutting across the treetops at an acute angle, seemed to be directed at that beautiful creature in the water as its beams brightened the scene to an almost ethereal degree.

She bathed for fifteen borts under his nearly unblinking stare until every inch of her stunning figure was thoroughly cleaned...and then her attention shifted pointedly. She leaned a bit forward until the cascading fluid was on her shoulders but her eyes were no longer flooded. She then tilted her head down a fraction more, and with a glare that was as clear as a written sign, she looked straight at Ron...and he could swear he saw actual steam billowing off her.

Now it was her turn to feast her eyes...but slow and deliberate was not part of the deal. He released the weapon's harness at his chest with a quick flip. His boots were cast aside in a handful of litas and his sleeveless shirt took even less time than that. And when he pulled the knot that secured the front of his own trousers, that lacing burst free hurriedly from the strain being placed upon it. He kicked the garment away and paused only a moment to join her stare, his body tensed and vibrating. Now it was Josy who could not think, could not swallow, and could not even breathe.

Ron moved toward her like a panther, and the sight of him caused her to melt with anticipation of the feel of his body. She easily looked past the obvious outer layer of scarred tissue that covered his entire form to behold the beautiful man he'd once been.

His face was strong and his jaw was square, a visage that radiated a powerful wave of dignity, self-assurance, and confidence that made everyone who met him instantly sense his natural leadership. His nose was as straight as ever, even after having been broken many times, and his steel gray eyes were as steady as the rock on which she stood. Such poise made her heart flutter when she was held in his gaze...and his smile was so grand that she quivered with delight whenever she saw it.

He was striding toward her quickly now and she trembled as she saw the muscles of his body tighten and relax. His broad, rounded shoulders and chest rippled as he moved, and every muscle of his abdomen bunched and twisted with astonishing definition, outlined in the deep bronze of his skin tone. His long legs, adorned with more amazing, chorded sinew, sent him towering over her, causing her to feel tiny, delicate, totally in awe of him, and even more willing to submit to him.

Ron was only steps away now, and she couldn't help but hunger after what he had for her. His massive organ would fill her, spread her, enthrall her...and she could barely wait.

Josy stepped further back, toward the central flow of the waterfall, giving Ron room enough to wash the last few days' ordeal from his body as she had. Without taking his eyes off her, he reached out and retrieved the soap she'd placed on one of the rocks to the side of the falls, and then copied her act of bathing. The effervescence of it felt wonderful, but it was even more exhilarating watching Josy's eyes follow that foamy material all around his body just as his had with her.

Seeing the rising desire in her eyes was extremely tantalizing, and a powerful aphrodisiac, but when her tongue eased out and traced the deep red of her luscious lips provocatively, he nearly lost that slippery bar. Ron's inner fire was running so high by then that he never even noticed the water's shocking temperature when he stepped over and doused himself.

His thick black hair was still relatively short, and so it took almost no time at all to remove the sweat, grime, and dirt of the road, leaving it sparkling and crushed to his skin as was hers. He then returned to the drizzle and began to work his way down, but got only as far as his shoulders before the lovely goddess at his side stepped up and stole the cleanser from him...preferring to finish the job herself.

The next several borts left Ron vibrating from his desire for his lover, her caressing hands slipping and sliding over his body in mind blowing, earth-shattering scintillation.

Josy could scarcely finish the task as her hands began to shake from the adrenaline level coursing through her in such close proximity to the god of a man whom she worshipped with every beat of her pounding heart. Kneeling at Ron's feet as she completed her undertaking, she slid the bar of cleanser away and pressed her face against his thigh...the object of her unbridled lust merely an inch from her cheek...and she could not pass it up.

Ron flinched slightly as her lips and tongue slipped over him, and then his face went up to search out the cool rush of water...to fight his urge to relax and give in to the exquisite pleasure she gave him. Josy's own desire ran down her thighs as she slid her tongue over and around his member, waiting hungrily for the reward she craved.

Ron finally released his grip on the stone surface of the cliff and pulled her from him, completely out of breath, his chest heaving from the strain of holding back his need to grant her wish. But Josy squirmed free of his grasp and her mouth continued up his rock-hard body, covering his stomach and chest with her full, hot lips, nibbling hard on his own sharp points of pursed flesh while her hands continued their delicate inspection of him, slipping and caressing at his most sensitive areas.

At length, she turned her gaze up to him and he locked his gray eyes with her two-toned ones. He then cupped her face I his large, rough hands and traced the outline of it with extraordinary gentleness. A moment later those hands that could rend flesh and break bones...that could kill with unbelievable ease...followed the curve of her neck with a touch as light as a downy feather. Josy's stare fogged over as his caress slipped down her shoulders slowly, and then moved inward to allow his thumbs to rake across her extended nipples. The feel of those hardened peaks made his organ pulse and Josy jerked with a gasp, pressing ever closer to him in response.

Her fingers then mimicked his movements as she felt his granite-hard pectorals, her eyes closed now...guided solely and completely by feel and emotion.

Ron filled his hands with her large breasts and the fullness and firmness of them sent another tremor racing through him, his desire for her soaring at Mach speed. Josy's hands then slipped downward to Ron's waist as his dipped to hers, and her fingers lightly brushed him where his shaft pressed firmly into her stomach. She felt his searing heat for her, his need for her obvious...reaching out to her.

Ron leaned down and engulfed her lips with his, their tongues touching and sliding and probing one another. Josy's hands moved quickly to Ron's chest again as they kissed, but when the tenderness turned to more like devouring one another, she slipped them around his powerful neck to add leverage to her wish to be even closer to him...to be crushed to him. As he felt her rising passion, he locked his masculine digits about her tiny waist, completely encircling that slim location until they touched, and then she felt her feet leaving the rocky ground.

Her left leg gradually slid with a silky smoothness that was absolutely amazing, up the outside of Ron's right thigh until it wrapped around him firmly. Ron stood up then, lifting the curvaceous Josy with him as if she were the air. Her right leg mirrored the left's action until she was clinging to him...completely open to him, and she kissed him harder, as if she would perish should his lips ever leave hers.

Ron adjusted his stance a hair and then the hands that had lifted Josy at the waist, and held her now, moved in the opposite direction.

He needed no help to reach his objective, no outside guidance whatsoever. The satin smooth thighs of his lover were heavy with her body's oils and she slid onto him with no resistance to his entry at all, other than his girth.

The instant, mind-expanding pleasure that surged through her forced her lips to rip from his and she gasped loudly...a great grunting inhalation of desperation as her arms clenched to his neck for dear life. He lowered her more and she coughed...having inhaled a gulp of water in her frantic search for more air.

"All right?" Ron asked through his own fog of pleasure.

"Yes, yes," she groaned, "don't stop!"

Down her liquid body slid until she felt as if he had impaled her, so much of him was now joined with her.

Her quaking and shuddering eased after a few moments and her grip on his neck slowly relaxed to allow all of her weight to drift down to her nether area.

Josy's eyes were slammed tightly shut and her teeth clenched as she began to bend and writhe, fighting her wish to release...praying it would last. Ron slid one hand under the curve of her bottom and wrapped the other around her shoulders before he pinned her against the cliff while he twisted and surged within her. He moved slowly, also worrying that the ecstasy of their joining would pass too quickly...and Josy melted even more.

The sound and feel of the pounding water slowly evaporated from their senses, as did the rest of the world. Their hearts beat together so fast that they trembled, their breaths coordinated in a rhythm as ancient and primeval as the stone upon which they stood. Their inner pressure rose and rose until the cool water seemed all that kept them from literally bursting into flame. Time itself seemed to stop as they reveled in the thrill of the moment...in the pleasure...in the astonishing joy that enveloped them both.

Such a physical and emotional connection can never last forever though, and it was not much longer before Josy's smooth, scintillating movements transformed into harsh and uncontrolled spasms...the waiting was done, the wanting was over, and the time for elation had arrived.

"Oooooh, Rooooooonnnnnnn!" Josy cried out as she suddenly pitched and arched and clutched at the chorded body that was now so deeply merged with hers.

She moaned and grunted and sunk her teeth into his shoulder in the rapture of the moment, until finally she had crested the peak of her passion and her movements abated...her breath still ragged.

Ron was immensely grateful to hear that vocal response from Josy's release. He'd been holding on by only the slimmest of margins, and could finally give in to the animal drive he'd been wrestling with for control like a mortal foe.

His own climax arrived during the downslide of hers, in a long, prolonged series of abdominal crunches that pressed his hips to Josy's with enough force to raise her several inches, only to have her body crash back down onto him in a ride of incomprehensible sexual paradise. That energetic transfer of delightful pressures evoked several more eruptions of a vocal nature from her as her waning orgasm was revitalized by the overwhelmingly masculine way that Ron now used her for his personal, animalistic gratification. She was dominated totally...in body, mind, and soul...and she could think of nothing that could be more perfect than that!

Although their hearts seemed at the overload point, the two lovers grappled and struggled onward, holding onto that moment as long as they could.

Eventually however, they both felt the approaching end, and all they could do was savor it.

Josy's arms were around Ron's neck still, allowing him to manipulate her body in any manner he chose, her head swimming and reeling from the emotional tide that surged and crashed in her mind. It was all she could do to maintain her grip as her energy seemed to be literally draining away...evaporating by the lita.

As Ron's release concluded, and his need abated, Josy pressed her face to his wide chest and the pounding of his heart made her smile.

His breath was deep and coarse as he started to extract himself, but Josy refused.

"Wait, my love," she told him as she was still feeling the pulsing throb of his organ inside her...and she shuddered.

A few moments later, she loosened her grasp on him and he lifted her clear and lowered her to her feet once more.

Her legs trembled so much that she slipped abruptly to the rock ledge with a sharp giggle of embarrassment.

"Oh, Baushe'," she exclaimed with a chuckle in her voice.

Ron was leaning against the rugged surface of the cliff panting harshly, and he broke out in soft laughter as well.

"I know what you mean," he admitted, feeling his own legs waffle as the passing of that erotic rush seemed to carry with it all of his strength reserves.

With a long, deep breath and a splash of the falls, he shook his head vigorously to clear it of the emotional stupor that had so thoroughly clouded his thoughts. He then scooped up his divine partner and strode back to their campsite like a conquering hero.

He couldn't control a huge grin escaping his lips as he gave himself a mental pat on the back. "Well done!" he congratulated himself as Josy curled up against him with a breathy moan, pressing her fantastic figure to his.

Ron flipped open the large cloak of his and then he dropped to one knee to set Josy's nude form upon it. She tried not even a little to cover herself, stretching like a cat on the warm, dry surface. When she had that out of the way, she lay on her back with one hand under her head and the other curling a finger to call him down to her.

Ron granted her request and was back in her arms in a blink, a passionate embrace welcoming his adherence. They enjoyed the feel of one another for a long time, as the sun dipped low and the veil of twilight gently settled around them.

Finally though, a sudden shiver from Josy sparked Ron's brain back to the reality of the moment and he disengaged himself from her and lit the fire. He then gathered their packs and fished out clothes for her.

"You prefer me covered?" she asked innocently while sitting up and arching her body into a scintillating pose.

Ron felt his desire kick back into overdrive, but held himself in check.

"Not in the least! But I also don't want you to be cold. I prefer you hot!"

She rolled her eyes and shut her lids as if in the throes of her climax.

"So do I!"

Ron chuckled at that and tossed her what he'd found before he dug out some suitable attire for himself. Afterward he went about heating up some of the rations Mishea had organized for them. Josy caught another waft of the breeze that rolled off the waterfall and shivered harder, suddenly very ready to clothe herself, and did so much faster than she'd disrobed.

They ate and talked lightly about nothing at all...preferring to live in the moment for a while longer. When they were satiated at last, the two lovers lay down in each other's arms and enjoyed the peaceful serenity of the incredibly romantic location.

Ron heard the call of several hunting beasts, instinctively categorizing them by position and potential threat level, but could tell they were far off and upwind of the camp, so he was not alarmed. However, just to be cautious, he turned his innate abilities on full blast for a while and listened closely to those nighttime calls and screeches, feeling very much at home under the brightly lit stars and moons. Once he validated his first conclusion, that there was no immediate sign of any real danger, he returned his attention to his lover.

"I hope you're not afraid, Josy," he began before he caught her face in the flickering firelight.

She was dead asleep, her lips curled in a tiny smile and her body nestled tightly against his. Ron smiled too and was out in a flash.

### Chapter Seven

### Gardilane

Josy awakened to the crackle and smell of the newly stoked fire. It blazed once more in the misty morning predawn, and its glowing flames radiated light and heat to her unpleasantly cool bed...cool due to the absence of her masculine bed warmer. The sleep had not quite left her as she slowly peered about, absentmindedly sweeping that fantastic mane of sable hair back away from her heavenly face. It was still dark, so the firelight was as far as she could see and Ron was not in that proximity. She shuffled over closer to the flames, dragging the thick cloak with her, and huddled there while her body's temperature came back up, wringing the chill from her sluggish figure.

After a few borts had dragged by without a hint of Ron, she began to get a real sense of dread. She couldn't hear any sound of his presence with the waterfall so nearby and her imagination tried to assist her in an explanation...and not of a good nature. The dark woods took on an alien and evil mood as she strained to see into them.

"Good morning!" Ron suddenly called out in an unmistakably cheerful tone.

She jumped nervously and spun about to see him returning from the waterfall's direction...his face and hair still wet.

"Guardian protect me!" she blurted as her hand went to her heaving breast.

"I'm sorry if I startled you, Josy," Ron added with a 'forgive me' look on his face. "I was just cleaning up a bit."

"No, no...that's alright," she replied, taking her hand from her racing heart and pulling the cloak tighter once more. "After what all we've been through though, my mind was just beginning to get little anxious. I guess it will take some time before I can truly relax again."

Ron reached her side and dropped to his knees to hug her. "I won't let anything happen to you, Josy. You have my word on that."

"Oh, Baushe', I never fear anything when you're around me...only when you're not."

Ron kissed her luscious lips and wondered about that. He wouldn't always be in a position to protect her, and that caused him much concern, but the unknown future was not a foe that could be defeated so he tried to push that grating agitation away. After all, he was already fully aware that, one way or the other, fate would rule the day.

"Are you in a hurry to get moving?" she asked, indicating the saddled mounts.

"No...it's nothing like that. It's just that the last time I spent the night at the base of a waterfall, I awoke to a less than peaceful scenario, so I suppose I wanted to make sure that didn't happen again."

Josy's expression instantly changed from one of harmless curiosity, to one of obvious regret.

"Oh, Ron...forgive me! I completely forgot about that. I didn't mean to force you to relive that..."

"No-no-no...don't worry. Sh-sh-sh," he told her quickly, hushing her softly with a stroke of his hand along her cheek. "Don't let my over-caution spoil our morning," he whispered as he leaned forward and gently brushed his nose with hers. After a few moments, he pulled back a bit. "Now I hate to see a frown on that gorgeous face, so do you think you might grace me with a smile?"

Josy instantly returned her devastating grin and pulled him to her for a long embrace.

After that, they sat calmly for a leisurely breakfast...one last stint of tranquility before continuing their journey. They just enjoyed the peace of the wilderness and the beauty of the breaking day, which turned out to be spectacular because the rising star lit up the waterfall perfectly, its spray creating a small but brilliant rainbow. Ron felt so happy with her...just the two of them in the Caronian countryside. It was almost like a fairytale...the knight and the damsel...as long as he didn't ponder the future.

It had to end though, as everything must, and after another half billot of carefree bliss, the two of them sighed resolutely at the same instant; and then snickered at each other. They were so in tuned with one another that it tickled them both.

Still grinning, they broke camp and went on their way again, and Ron's recovery from that nightmarish journey to Josy's rescue shown through in many obvious ways. It made him silly and playful with her as they rode along...joking and laughing at each other like they were kids in high school.

At one moment though, late in the day, they were riding through a winding stretch of forest that seemed completely devoid of any other persons while the sun leaned hard to the west. Ron glanced innocently over at Josy and caught her staring back at him with unexpected intensity. He eased his steed closer to hers just at a point when the white star cut through the thick foliage as if it were a mighty searchlight, bathing her figure in its glorious light. He was overcome with desire for her once again and quickly swept her from her horse with one hand, hauling her to his lap like a feather pillow.

"Oooh!" she squealed with glee as she was whisked into his arms, and then lay there totally at his mercy...her will bent to his desire.

Ron eased his leg over his horse's shoulder and dropped to the ground with Josy cradled to him firmly. He released his cloak to fall open on the roadway and slid her down atop it, his eyes locked on hers and his hands already stripping her.

"Ron, what if someone comes along?"

Ron stared down at her for a moment with a mesmerizing gaze.

"Then their memory will be forever graced by a glimpse of the most beautiful woman on the planet!"

The horses both stepped to the side of the road for a quick munch on the tall grass growing there, and twenty borts later, Josy's screams of ecstasy rang out resoundingly through the forest.

Over the next three days, the two lovers slowly found their way to Gardilane. That marked the end of their private time together and the beginning of a new chapter in their lives.

Ron delayed that moment as much as he could, but knew it would come eventually. His mood wasn't light as they rounded that final sweeping turn in the road that hid them from their goal...and his demeanor returned instantly to its former state of caution, suspicion, and wariness.

They finally rode into town just after dark, and Ron immediately detected a strong sense of foreboding in the area. He kept very close to Josy's horse with one hand on the hilt of the black sword and his eyes and ears straining in the gloom. He had Josy wrapped in his cloak to mask her identity, which worked very well since its length covered her totally, even her dainty boots.

They slowly made their way through the shadows without saying a word, straight to where he knew he should find Jarle.

When he determined the town was calm...quiet other than the normal voices, the clanging of pots, and the laughter of children at play, he began to settle down. And once he reached his goal and saw the guards performing their duties as usual, he felt confident that all was as it should be. However, he bid Josy wait in the shadow of a nearby shed while he ventured forth on foot.

"Stay where you are!" ordered one of the watchmen as the two sentries snapped to attention briskly, brandishing swords.

At that point, Ron detected the subtle, yet distinct sounds of two more men on either side of them in the darkness, so he pulled back his big, floppy hat and stood still, waiting for their inspection. One of the men lit a lantern and motioned Ron forward until he stood illuminated in the light.

"Ronin!" they both said in unison, with obvious reverence in their voices.

"Ronin?" asked the men to the sides.

"Thank the Guardian you are well, my Lord," said the man on the right, Greger Hoshe. "There have been wild rumors that...well, we shouldn't speak out here. Come, Ronin, let me get the door. Jarle and the others will be greatly relieved to see you."

"A moment please," Ron said to the men softly, before motioning with his hand for Josy to join him. "I have a guest."

"We must have approval, Sir. Forgive me, but that comes directly from Jarle and Lilea. Any new man to join..."

Josy was at Ron's side by then and she tossed back her hood to accommodate their inspection. The blackness of her hair rivaled the night itself and reflected the lantern's light with a bluish hue that sparkled at the guards and framed her sapphire laced eyes magnificently...as if glowing back at them. She allowed the cloak to open, draping from her shoulders so that the men might judge her threat level more accurately. Such a display permitted them a good view of her typically haltered bust, bared midriff, and form-fitting riding britches...and her physical beauty seemed to radiate at them overpoweringly.

Ron always found it interesting to read the reactions of men when they met Josy, and in this case, the two fellows up front simply stopped in their tracks, their mouths open and nothing issuing forth. The others, those still in hiding, no doubt with loaded crossbows trained on the stranger, both let out breaths of air...as if in disbelief.

"Check with your superiors," Ron said to them after several long litas ticked by with no further input from the sentries. "See if they approve of our passage."

That brought one of the men back to his senses.

"No...that...that won't be necessary. You vouching for her is good enough I'm sure!"

"Thank you then," Ron told the two men as he escorted Josy into the huge meeting building with a smile bursting from him as he passed them.

As Ron entered the building, waves of suspicious silence swept down both long tables spanning the length of the extensive structure. Each person in the room was innately guarded with their speech due to the nature of the gathering, and they didn't want even a single word overheard without first knowing who might be listening. But when their eyes confirmed the man before them, further silence...from wonder, amazement, and joy...propagated down the ranks. It was as if a king had entered his court, drawing every eye and freezing every thought.

Ron stood one step inside the doorway...with Josy hidden behind his larger frame...searching for faces he knew, and he immediately noted that there were not many. That was to be expected, of course, because of the rotation of the training groups and schedules. Also the need to get as many troops as possible back to where they would not be missed was vital, so he didn't fret over it.

He saw highlanders from the southern mountains of Oorteage, plainsmen from the open grasslands east of the Meantig River, farmers from all around the province, wetland folk, and what looked like mercenaries...trained killers out for profit.

Whispers then began slowly, radiating down the same course as the silence had gone.

"Who is this? What group does he represent? Where is he from?"

Jarle Raidene and Heath Sarvand were far away at the other end, in serious discussion with a dozen men who seemed distressed at the conversation. As the murmurs reached them though, Jarle glanced over his shoulder and then he too froze briefly, his eyes adjusting to the lengthy distance.

"These guidelines 'must' be enforced," Heath continued with his explanation to the surly men, "to keep the entire movement at peace and working together. We cannot have fear and intimidation snarling our support lines. You must agree..."

"No! We will not! No one tells us what spoils we can or cannot claim. Who made up these rules?"

"He did!" Jarle broke back into the disagreement, tossing his head toward the figure at the entry area. "And if you care to try and change his mind, feel free!"

"Who is this man?" asked the leader of the twelve. "There's nothing special about him. I have five men here that are bigger and probably stronger."

Jarle had to laugh at that.

"That, my fine friend," Jarle announced in a strong enough voice to carry all the way back to Ron, "is 'RONIN'!"

As the name left his lips, the backwashing wave that carried the name with it rushed at Ron like a rising cheer...until...'RONIN' struck its owner unexpectedly.

Ron barely seemed to notice the reverence in their words as he finally spied Jarle and raised his hand in a wave. A moment later the room practically burst into excited conversation, centered solely on him.

Jarle and Heath instantly left the disgruntled man to his own group and rushed to their friend where they locked wrists and bashed into one another, shoulder to shoulder, like brothers.

"It is good to see you again my friend!" Jarle told him.

"Yes, yes. I second that!" Heath added, both of them beaming at him.

"RON!" came a feminine scream from off to the side of the long building, followed immediately by a dashing coif of chestnut curls whisking through the throng of burly men and leaping the last five feet into Ron's outstretched arms.

"Oh, Ron!" Lilea said to him, hugging his neck tightly. "Are you alright? It's such a relief off my mind to know that you're not dead! What happened? Did you find out who attacked the farm? Did anyone survive? Is Josy..."

Ron squeezed her back hard enough to force a grunt from her, which stopped her string of questions long enough to allow him to jump into the conversation.

"I'm fine!" he said...their faces barely an inch apart. "And...so is she."

Ron extended his arm for Josy to join him in the meeting hall, and the ravishing brunette glided into his grasp like a breeze, her face alighted with happiness. Lilea's eyes flew open wide.

"Josy! You 'are' alive!"

Ron set her down again and she crushed Josy as if they were lifelong friends. When they separated, Lilea tore into them both for information about what all had happened. Ron saw how wound up she was getting again and so he hauled her back into his powerful grip for another hug.

"We should wait for a more private setting, Lil," he whispered into her ear.

She squeezed him hard again. "Of course!"

They parted once more and it was Ron who began the new round of questions.

"Tell me...how are things going here?"

Heath led them all over to a small table in a nearby corner and they sat and talked for the next full billot.

"We really need you to make some kind of speech, Ron...to steady the troops. They're beginning to waver because of some reports of your untimely demise."

Ron issued a low rumble from his chest...his temper flaring from the news of how easily these men would waffle on their commitments.

"What do they want from me?" he inwardly grumbled. "I can't be at every battle, at every meeting, shoring up their pitiful resolve. Sooner or later, they will have to decide to fight or flee. I just hope it is not when 'WE' need 'THEM'!"

He especially wanted them to choose a different leader to follow...a true Caronian...one that he himself could stand behind alongside them instead of being worshipped like some kind of heroic saint...but he knew that would never happen. They had dubbed him 'Ronin', the legendary, immutable soldier from their ancient culture, and that was that.

"Very well," he told Heath.

"YOU!" called a deep, gravelly voice, causing the group to turn as one to face the leader of the twelve mercenaries that Jarle and Heath had been arguing with.

Ron was already growing agitated, so he faced the fellow with a stern expression.

"Who are you to lay down such rules of conduct for this army of a hundred different peoples?"

"Miekka...do not provoke..."

Ron put up his hand abruptly to stop Jarle in mid-sentence.

"I don't understand your question," Ron returned, straining to maintain his calm. "What is it exactly that's disagreeable to you?"

The man pressed close to the table, so that he could look down on Ron, his hands gripping the edge of the wooden surface as he leaned in menacingly. Jarle merely sat back, his disposition calm and almost comical.

"This should be interesting," he thought lightly.

The stranger, Miekka, then growled at Ron in a condescending tone. "I've heard of nothing but admiration about how great, how fierce, and how brave this 'Ronin' is, but all I see is a little man, like any other. You don't look special to me.

"I fight with men who wage war! When we march, we don't worry about whose land we cross, whose beasts we feed on, or whose women we take for our pleasure! We do as we see fit! We are the Azire'!"

Ron looked up at the grisly fellow with utter contempt.

"If that is how you men feel," Ron said as calmly as he could manage, "then you are free to leave. The door is that way. And of course, we'll expect you to keep your mouths shut about our plans!"

The leader of the Azire' stood as still as stone, his face a mask of astonishment at Ron's gall.

"Oh yeah...by the way," Ron added, nonchalantly, "before you go, I need you to understand something. We have loyal supporters everywhere...and if I receive even a breath of word that you have betrayed us, I will personally hunt you down and slit your throat. Good day!"

Ron ended his proclamation with a stare as cold as space itself...his eyes now hard as steel.

They unsavory band each looked at one another briefly, astonished that anyone would speak to them in that manner. Their leader reached to draw his sword, but before it cleared its leather scabbard, he found out just who it was he was dealing with.

Three things happened so quickly that their order would only be described as simultaneous. Ron's chair ejected from beneath him and dropped the fellow closest to the table, his right hand slapping against Miekka's throat while his left hammered the fellow on that side squarely in the jaw.

Six feet behind Miekka stood a support beam that held the roof structure for the wide building. It was a foot square and five peors tall, having another four feet of it sunk into the hard-packed dirt floor.

A blink of time later saw Miekka slammed against that support post with enough force to rattle his teeth and cause dust to rain down at the far end of the building a hundred feet away. He saw the world dim momentarily and then return, only to find tiny bright specks flying about his vision.

Miekka blinked hard twice to clear his head, and when he looked again his eyes flew wide with uncontained surprise. He found himself staring into the uncompromising face of Ron Allison barely six inches away, with the most dramatic scars burning bright pink against his tanned skin. One other major detail was the fact that he also felt the cold edge of a weapon pressed firmly to his throat...a blade that was as deeply blue as a sapphire. It was so unusual in its appearance that at first Miekka thought it a mirage, but the forearm that pinned him against that beam was impossible to ignore...especially since his feet were not touching the ground.

His eyes danced to the right where he noted a beautiful, ornately carved handle of a short sword in Ron's left hand, and its' razor edge laying against his lieutenant's throat.

"Do not move!" Ron ordered to the man beside them...the one with his fingers gripping his own weapon. He'd been too slow on the draw to clear it.

His men also reached to bare steel, in an effort to aid their commander and fellow soldiers, but thirty other blades, all stout supporters of Ronin, were out and pressed close, so they stayed their motions.

The leader made no further move, but his pulse shot up tenfold and his face flushed deep burgundy as a light trickle of blood eased down his neck.

"I have no wish to fight you," Ron told him easily. "This place is supposed to be for the joining of the various sects of Caron, not causing more strife between them. You do not wish to help us! Fine! Get out! But don't try to threaten us into accommodating your vile sense of self-worth!"

The man's eyes spoke for him as they broke their link with Ron's and fell to the side.

Miekka couldn't disguise the fear and awe he felt for the man who'd just bested him and three of his best men in the blink of an eye. His fingers shook as he fumbled about his person and then he shoved his blade back into its sheath.

"Agreed," he mumbled, a bit nervous about moving any more than that.

Ron removed the blue dagger from his chin and eased off enough so Miekka could slip to the turf. Then he wiped his foot-long throwing knife clean on the mercenary's shirt and stowed it as well, stepping back afterward and lowering his sword.

"Go now! Return to your lands and let the 'MEN' of Caron fight unencumbered!"

The leader from Azire' felt the sting of those words bite harshly as he regained his shaky feet...and then he and his men quickly slipped away without further complaint, out of the meeting hall and into the night. The remaining crowd watched them go in total silence.

"You may have just created a grave enemy," Jarle said after the doors had closed, his previous smirk replaced with worry.

"Perhaps," Ron allowed, "but I think not. I'll venture a guess that they will be back."

Lilea and Josy began breathing again right about then, and both shook their heads at the incomparable abilities Ron continued to display as if he were doing nothing more hazardous than card tricks.

The entire building radiated energy following that incident...everyone whispering and grinning at the feats of their hero...but Ron merely returned to the conversation he'd been having and tried to gather his thoughts for his upcoming speech.

Before long, gifts of delicious, home-cooked food began arriving at their table due to the fact that messengers had been sent to every nearby home and café. The news that Ronin had returned was like a spring breeze, and cause for celebration. Soon the entire assemblage was eating well and drinking heartily, their faith reestablished and their hopes rekindled.

When the night was well along and most of the gathered folks had gone, Ron requested a new place to stay, after first promising a full accounting on the morrow of what he'd been through since they saw him last.

The last time he stayed in Gardilane he bunked with the other men from Lampsh, much like any common group of soldiers, but now with Josy along he would need a little more privacy. Heath led the way to a small stone hut which was hastily set aside for him upon his return. Lilea personally saw to that little detail, feeling certain he and his nurse would now be very difficult to separate with all they'd been through.

Ron and Josy thanked Heath warmly and bid him good night before entering their new, albeit temporary home. It was a one-room bungalow that would have suited Ron just fine, but he easily recalled the lavishness of the mansion Josy was accustomed to and his emotions sank as he lit the single lantern in the cramped, modest space. It showed signs of being well lived in, but not well kept. The floor was dirt and a heavy coating of the stuff covered every inch of the place. There was one small bed that his feet would surely hang off the end of, and a dirty washbasin. Two large cupboards and a counter constituted the kitchen area, with the fireplace as the stove, and the bathroom facilities were outside and a hundred feet away, down a dark, narrow trail.

"I'm so sorry Josy. I know this is bad, but..."

She silenced his worry with her small hand lightly settling on his lips.

"Baushe', I would live under a tree in the middle of a swamp and be perfectly content as long as you were with me."

Ron looked deeply into her sparkling eyes and knew she spoke the truth. They embraced for a long, joy-filled moment and then got down to the business of the moment.

Josy foraged briefly in her pack and removed a blanket, setting it across the bare matte bed and then used Ron's blanket as a cover after they slipped onto the pathetic little platform.

The hour was very late by then and both of them were feeling it. They squirmed about for a few moments, trying to find a comfortable position, which wasn't easy. But when Josy finally nestled herself into just the right spot, her lips reached up in the dark and found his cheek for a quick peck before she moved no more, and then her breath grew slow and regular.

Ron sighed once and smiled. It was true that this tiny little hovel was less than he'd grown accustomed to in his life, and a far cry from what he would choose to live in, if given the chance, but he wouldn't complain. It was a place that sheltered him and his love from the elements, he was surrounded by friends that would lay down their lives for him, and he held a goddess of a woman whose only thoughts were of his happiness.

"Could life really be better than this?" he wondered.

He was asleep almost instantly, she pressed up against his bare chest with her legs intertwining his, and his long arms enveloping her.

### Chapter Eight

### Tenuous Allies

The next morning caught Ron and his heartthrob sleeping in...at least for him. The sun had nearly broken free of the horizon when he finally arose and went to the community well for water. Once there, he found much of the activity in the small town running like normal...until he was spotted. After that, he couldn't take a step without hearing 'Ronin' whispered and having fingers pointed in his direction.

"This will take some getting used to," he told himself as he headed back.

He and Josy were the instant talk of the town...every woman heartbroken that he was taken, and every man fantasizing that they could trade places with him.

Following a large, hot breakfast, they found Jarle, Heath, Lilea, and Janson right away and spent the next few billots filling them in on their recent activities. Together they all assessed the urgency of their circumstances and in the course of that, Ron could tell that something important was going unsaid. His friends had a heavy burden on their minds. Undoubtedly Josy could sense it too because she excused herself and headed back to their hut under the pretense of needing to get the place livable.

"Okay, you four," Ron said when she was away, "what is all this?"

"Ron," Lilea began, feeling she would evoke less agitation from him than the others, "you know that we are all very fond of Josy...and very happy for you both."

She hesitated at that point for a moment.

"But?" he urged.

"But...what do you suppose the rest of the army's leaders are going to think when they find out that you are...so close...with the daughter of one of our enemy?"

Ron had never considered that perspective. Josy was simply Josy to him. He quickly tossed around the notion in his mind that the rank and file would likely never guess the affiliation/connection with the Kreete. However, he knew almost instantly that such hope was extremely naïve and likely dangerous...at least to her. Literally thousands of men had made the journey to, and through, the training camp, and it was inevitable that someone would surely recognize her.

"I will announce it in this...this speech that I'm supposed to give. We'll just see after that!"

Ron dismissed the subject afterward, but the Lampsh folks were far less confident than he about the possible outcome of such an announcement, exchanging secretive glances of apprehension with one another, although they kept that fact to themselves.

Immediately after lunch, the entire town emptied out and gathered at the large, open venue of the training grounds...a walled area the size of a football field, and the only place that could hold so large a gathering. Luckily, it was a very calm day, overcast with thin clouds, and quite comfortable for the meeting. There was no podium, so Ron suggested that everyone get seated in the short grass in a semicircle around him as he gathered his thoughts. The Lampsh contingent sat by warily and quite tense as he began.

"Most of you have never seen me before this day...or if you have, it has been a brief, probably terse encounter. I am not a politician, nor an orator, so if my words or opinions seem harshly abrupt, I mean no disrespect and hold no malice.

"I have been given a grand title that is vastly overstated, to say the least. While it is true that I have some skills for battle..."

The crowd broke out in a raucous chuckle at that enormous understatement and it took a bort or two to settle them down again.

"Perhaps more than most," Ron added with a grin, acknowledging the crowd's sentiments, "But with that said I need to make something perfectly clear. I am no Guardian! I am not invincible! I am not all-powerful nor can I be in more than one place at any given time. Many refer to me as 'Ronin'...a great warrior from a legend of long ago times...and I am proud to have received such an honorable title. I will strive to hold such an appointment to the very highest standards I can achieve...but I implore you all to give no more weight to my name than the respect you grant your own leaders.

"Most of you will return to your home lands when you're finished here, to rejoin your people and gather with your kinsmen as the time draws near to wage this upcoming war. You must realize that I will be far away from you then. Your faith in your own countrymen, your leaders, and your neighbors is what you will need to get you through, not in some mythical man who you may never even see again!

"Many have traveled here on a pilgrimage to see this 'Ronin' and were probably disheartened that I was away, or that I was not what they'd expected...but more than the sight of a man lives in the legend! More than the feats of a single man have made up this awe-inspiring fervor of hope. I think each of you...each of us...wishes 'he' could be the great warrior, or fight beside him in battle, especially when facing such a foe as the Kreete.

"I tell you now that 'Ronin' lives in each of us...in each of you! You will witness it when the moment comes and you find yourself fighting for your lives. 'Ronin' is the spirit that will add speed to your sword and strength to your body to fight on even when you know you have seen your last sunrise. This spirit will allow you to suffer through the long marches, the horrible weather, the hunger and thirst you are certain to face. It will spur you onward so you can rally to the aid of your fellow Caronians in their time of need, no matter who they might be.

"Such drive and determination will be crucial to our success, because when this war begins, it will be for all of us, not just me and not just you or your family. If we are to survive this coming storm, we will have to lay aside all disputes, all borders, all distrusts, and all prejudices.

"We have a saying where I come from that is especially appropriate to us here and now, and should be carried to the edges of Caron. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend!'

"We all must fight every battle as if the very lives of our families are at stake...because believe me...they are!

"Are we agreed with these facts?"

"Yes!" called the thousands of voices, intermingled with cheers and chants.

"There is one last thing that I need to inform you all about."

Ron waited a few moments to make sure the crowd was focused and hanging on his every word.

"Most of you know of, or have heard tell of, my time in the Retribution Games. I have gained much honor, much grandeur, and many accolades because of my infamous escape from the arena of Gratoon. I know that it is widely assumed that I simply swam to my freedom and vanished into the wilderness forest where I lived until recently. Many believe that I spent those long weeks skillfully evading the vast search parties our enemy sent out while they scoured the land in brutal fashion in their maniacal hunt for me.

"Well, the truth is much more unbelievable than that."

The gathered crowd was transfixed on him then, even more than before, because they each had their own personal version of how he'd survived, and were about to find out what really happened.

"A family of affluent farmers found me on the brink of death...the treochy's poisonous quills having deposited a fatal dose of its venom. They placed themselves in direct contradiction to the Lords' laws, inviting certain and cruel death, in order to help me. They hid me from the Kreete, administering constant, arduous, compassionate care to me for weeks before I regained my strength. I am absolutely positive that if it had not been for them...for their bravery and sacrifice...I would have perished on the banks of the Kessleton River.

"Since then however, their duplicity in my aid was discovered and they were attacked. Their beautiful home was completely destroyed and they are now all marked for death. Four of the family of five are at this very moment braving the dangers of the wilderness to make their way here, to safety. In fact I will be heading out in the morning to meet and guide them the rest of the way. One of them is with me now, having chosen to stay at my side even though she knows what lengths the Kreete commanders will go to in order to find me.

"I would like you all to meet the person most responsible for my being able to stand here today.

"Josy?" he said softly, extending his hand to her.

Josy rose to her feet and glided up next to Ron, and into his outstretched arm. She was nervous to be the focus of so many strangers and clung to Ron for reassurance.

"This is Josylinia Gitove. She is my companion!"

There was a thunderous explosion of applause erupting from the throng, along with hundreds of whistles and howls.

"Some things never change," Ron thought to himself about the moderately lewd noises and expressions made by the men in the group, "no matter what planet you're on."

After a long while, the group settled down again and awaited his words.

"Thank you all for that warm welcome!" Ron continued. "However, it has been mentioned to me by my most trusted friends, that you may not feel the same way if you truly knew who this beautiful woman is."

The crowd's enthusiasm abated sharply and much whispering instigated...their faces turning concerned.

"What could possibly be wrong with such a spectacularly breathtaking woman?" many wondered. "Especially one whom had saved their hero?

"The family into whose care I fell is the Gitoves of the Thackere region. The patriarch of their clan is Karne Gitove, a Reaper class Kreete commander, and leader of the roving Vanguard known as the Hellions!"

Murmurs turned quickly into arguments, though many who came from distant territories were in the dark about the identity of the person mentioned until they overheard others, or were directly informed. Ron let them all ramble on for a while before putting his hands up again.

"Please!" he shouted. "Listen to me!"

The huge crowd was now on its feet, confused and frightened.

"Do you wish me to leave?"

"No!" cried the majority.

"Then will you accept the Gitoves into our protection?"

"How can we? How can we trust them? No! We cannot!" were statements all spoken simultaneously from the multitude.

"As I have said, I go tomorrow to meet them and guide them here."

"NO!" cried a loud refute to his announcement.

Ron listened for a short time and then raised his hands again. Josy now clung to him fearfully, her eyes swollen and dripping tears.

"I understand!" Ron bellowed to them. "I understand, and I shall honor your wishes! You are afraid, and I respect that! You wish to protect yourselves and your families! That is commendable, and as it should be! We shall be gone by daybreak! Good luck to you all!" he concluded, wrapping Josy in his embrace and moving away guardedly.

Jarle, Heath, Janson, and Lilea were all on their feet by then, their hands on the hilts of their weapons, flanking their friend and his lover.

"Wait!" called at least a hundred from the front area, but clearly the mass was divided.

One tall, broad-chested fellow stepped forward a few strides.

"Why would you choose them over us?"

Ron empathized with their feelings completely, but would not waver.

"As I have stated, these people have already risked everything, and lost all they have except their lives in order to save me. They have earned my gratitude, my respect, my sword, and..." he squeezed his nurse tightly, "my love."

A new round of heavy and indiscernible mutterings swept among the people again as much deliberation ensued.

"I do not expect any of you to feel as I do," he continued. "How could you? I, myself, was so shocked when I found out that I'm certain I could not have believed it either...but the facts are still the same."

Ron swept his free arm in a wave that encompassed his Lampsh friends. "We, here, were involved in the first attack on the Gitove farm and stood shoulder to shoulder with Karne, his sons, and his most trusted scouts. We lost blood together and we spilled that of the Avators...each of us holding our positions to defend the other. That kind of commitment is what 'must' come to pass across this harsh land. Josy and her mother, Mishea are accomplished physicians and mended men alongside the Kreete warriors who are their kin and their friends. There was no thought of status or class, only the extent of the injury. 'They' have proven themselves to us and all I ask is that they be permitted to prove themselves to you as well."

More deep discussions ensued rapidly throughout the masses and Ron gave them some time to sort out their decisions.

"Do you trust me?" Ron called out to them after a while, willing to give them one last chance.

"Yes!" called back a great many...but hardly all.

"Do you trust my friends?" indicating the Lampsh folks.

"Yes!" they called back stronger, more unified.

"We have all met with the Gitoves and we vouch for their sincerity and willingness to assist Caron in winning its freedom. This is their home too, and they feel much the way we do! They believe in family, in hard work, in respect and honor. They reject the ways of conquest and the senseless brutality of the Kreete Triad, and we can learn much from their knowledge of the Kreete army and its tactics.

"Will you at least meet them?"

"Yes," was the hesitant answer that resonated thoroughly among the people.

Ron had banked on the fact that humans' nearly insatiable curiosity might sway their decision...and he was right. For the rest of the gathering, they discussed where the Gitoves would reside...and the obvious choice was inside the confines of the walled training camp, which Karne formally (yet secretly) owned. They also wanted assurances that Karne would not impose himself their 'Lord', and Ron heartily agreed, having absolutely no wish to try and insert him as their leader.

After another couple of billots of questions and decrees, the meeting drew to a nervous end, allowing Ron and Josy to walk away much more at ease. The townsfolk didn't shy away from them either, even with the uncertainty of the future, so they were able to relax a while before dark and enjoy a comfortable meal. Groups of men, and even families, strolled by the café to get a glimpse at the couple, instilling the notion of hope in the guise of curiosity.

Ronin would not let them down!

The following morning, the camp went back to business and Ron and Josy set off for their rendezvous with her family, finding them two days later exactly where they were supposed to be.

They had tales of a nightmarish adventure since the land they'd traversed was boundless with dangerous beasts. Larson had been painfully assaulted by a jefarr (snare-vine), but would heal with no ill effects. They were all happy to see the couple again, knowing immediately that all was in order and that they could at least put aside their worries of being hunted for the time being.

At midday, two days after their reunion, they met the outer sentries of Gardilane, who immediately dispatched runners to relay the news of their arrival. By the time they meandered their way to their objective, the crowd that awaited them was almost as large as the one which had cheered for Ron.

Karne did not try to hide himself, since that would have been quite impossible anyway, and walked as he usually did, with the stride of a king. Mishea was close at his left side, Ron and Josy were beside him to the right, Larson and Neidar flanked him, and Roelantish was a bit further to the rear.

Karne seemed extremely calm, but he was the only one. This was the moment that would either lay the foundation of their alliance or destroy it, and not a word was spoken as the family crossed an open field on the outskirts of town. The field was lined on either side with the multitude that constituted their army and its support groups...or at least the primary nexus of it...and they were heavily armed.

The tension began building quickly to a palpable state, and Ron's concern grew at an equally rate. He worried that the assemblage might have one hothead who felt the need to try and evoke some form of revenge on those whom he saw as merciless masters. But that fear came to an abrupt end by one small, unplanned event.

A girl child about ten cycles old, who managed to escape her parents' eyesight during the excitement, had wormed her way through the throng to the front of the villagers. She burst from the crowd suddenly and ran boldly up to Karne before she stopped.

A great gasp issued from the nearby onlookers who were too startled to react. The giant Reaper class warrior, towering six feet above her tiny figure paused and regarded her coolly.

"Are you a monster?" she asked as innocently as only a child could.

She lived in a remote area and had never seen a Kreete soldier. Mishea smiled at her inquisitive little face. Ron held his breath.

Karne just looked down at her with the usual stern expression of a commander. Then he glanced up, scanning the nearby mass of humans and returned to the girl.

"Yes," he replied in a voice that was as deep as a well, "I suppose to most of those here today, I am a monster."

The little girl stared up at him, her mouth open in wonder at his rumbling voice.

"Are you here to kill us? Father says that's what you Kreete people do."

Slowly, so as not to frighten the child, he dropped to his knees, stooping even further until he was eye to eye with the little girl. Ron detected a nervous shiver sweeping through the natives, and a clear air of uneasiness abounded. At least twenty bows held arrows knocked...but as of yet, they remained lowered.

"Do you see that woman?" Karne asked, indicating Josylinia.

The child nodded her head vigorously.

"She is my little girl. I love her just like your father loves you."

"She is really pretty," the girl told him, smiling up at Josy.

Josy returned her smile with warmth that radiated to the crowd.

"This is my wife, Mishea...and these are our two sons, Larson and Neidar. They are very big, but they are still my boys."

"Wowwww!" the girl replied.

"Do you have a brother?"

The girl nodded her head again. "He's eight."

"I will wager that you take care of him...your 'little' brother, right?"

"Yep."

"Well, let me tell you something. I am not here to hurt anyone. We all have come here, far from our home, to try and help free the people of Caron from the evil people...the others who look like me, but do not think like me."

"That's good! I wouldn't want Father to have to fight you, cause you're really big!"

Karne smiled and chuckled, sounding like a rolling bit of thunder.

"Where are your parents?" Mishea asked her softly, stooping beside Karne.

"You're really pretty too!" said the girl before she looked about at her surroundings. "Oh, oh! I can't see them."

She turned back to Mishea. "They'll be angry. I wasn't supposed to come up here...but I wanted to see."

"We will find them," Mishea assured her.

"Are you afraid of me?" Karne asked.

"Are you nice?"

He laughed hard at that, considering the life he'd led. "To little children I am. I think they are very special, and I would never harm a young person."

"Okay. Then no, I'm not scared."

"If I pick you up, you will be able to see your parents. Would that be alright?"

She beamed at him with the wide-eyed wonder of a child and nodded enthusiastically. Karne held out his two gigantic hands and she sat herself right down in them like they were a living basket. He felt her gripping his thumbs to steady herself and then up he went.

The crowd gasped loudly and in unison, in a fast wave of inhaled air.

"Which way, baby?" Karne asked as she reached the level of his chest.

The girl looked to the north. "Over there...I think."

Karne lifted her a bit higher so that all could see.

"This little girl has lost her parents!" he announced...his deep voice carrying across the field like a bullhorn.

Instantly, there was a panicked scream from a woman, fifty peors away. "Libby!"

"Mommy! Mommy! Look at me! Look at me!"

The frantic woman rushed through the crowd to the front...the nervous onlookers stepping aside quickly.

"Jacob! Jacob!" the girl cried down to her brother, who was being fairly dragged behind his mother. "Look at me! See how high I am?"

"Give her back!" the panicked woman demanded as she approached at a run.

Karne did not get excited or insulted, understanding her state of worry.

"Of course," he said to her smoothly, setting the girl gently back on the grassy turf.

"Did you see me?" the girl asked her mother excitedly, forgetting that she was probably in a good deal of hot water.

The lady gathered her up, frightened and angry and relieved all at once, and hugged her while crying...her eyes slammed tightly shut. Behind her, the young boy walked up to Karne with the same unfettered interest as his sister.

"Can I ride too?"

Karne smiled broadly but repeated the event to the child's delight, and the mother's dismay. She was just catching her breath again when she turned to see what everyone was looking at. It was her youngest child, twelve feet up in the air, waving and smiling at the large gathering. She took a breath to scream again but Mishea sidled up next to her first and wrapped a comforting arm about her shoulders. She was as calm as a sleeping baby.

"He is fine," she assured the woman gently, feeling the shuddering vibrations running through her. "Karne loves the attention from the little ones. He is very careful, so please do not worry."

The exasperated woman just gawked and held to the girl. The little girl stared up at her brother...her face lighting up as bright as a lantern.

That simple, natural scene took much of the tension and apprehension away from the crowd. The humans then slowly began to approach the new group with obvious trepidation and an awkwardness that quickly turned to open interest.

Over the next couple of billots, the crowd slowly dispersed and the town went back to its normal activities, and the new members of the community drifted on to the main gladiator-training complex where they would reside.

### Chapter Nine

### The Challenge

The next few days in Gardilane were spent with introductions, explanations, and information dispersal about how and why these Triad military men were now willing to assist the human population of Caron. Also, Ron, Lilea, Heath, and Jarle attempted to bring Karne and his sons up to speed on the state of plans that were in work.

In conjunction with that dissemination, the interjection of the Kreete soldiers...a group of premiere, well-disciplined warriors who thrived on precision and order...caused the schedules and workshops to become very regimented and efficient. There were a few anxious moments here and there, but all-in-all things went smoothly, and their tenuous arrangement seemed to be working out extremely well.

The peace held out until the third day after the group's arrival, when Roelantish Sonebane decided it was time to speak with Ron about that fateful day so long ago.

Ron was out in the exercise-training field as usual, preparing to begin one of his instructional sessions with a group of fifty men, when Roe walked up. Dozens of other members of the militia were out in the practice area with various weapons as well, trying to learn the advantages and subtleties of combat with such instruments. Ron bristled when he saw Roe coming, and turned away in an attempt to ignore him.

"Ron, we need to talk!" Roe announced in a loud voice that grabbed the attention of many in the vicinity.

Ron immediately stopped his exercise and turned to face Roe with a fiery glare that would have halted most any other man. But he'd given his word to Josy that he would not draw swords against Roe, so his hands stayed at his sides.

The woodsman had saved her and her family, so he owed the man that...and he had every intention of honoring the agreement with his raven-haired lover...but it was not easy to check his temper.

"About what?" Ron growled, not caring if everyone knew of this man's loathsome betrayal of him. "How you tracked me down and delivered me to the Kreete?"

Every recruit within earshot brought their attention to bear on those two at that moment.

"Or about how you turned the woman I loved into a traitor? Or about how you bartered with the Kreete for the bounty on my head?"

Ron's irritation was soaring by then and the more he thought, the madder he got.

"Maybe you want to discuss that santari I spent underground with those slags."

He was steaming now as Roe continued to approach.

"You don't know the entire story!" Roe insisted.

"You've had plenty of time to dream up a story that will suit your needs. After what you pulled on me, I wouldn't trust you to bring me water. In fact, if you said it was daytime, I'd have to check for myself!"

Roe was close now.

"What would it hurt to listen for half a billot? I can clear up..."

"Hurt?" Ron cut him off mid-sentence. "Is that what you said? What would it hurt?"

Roe was directly in front of him by then.

"SMACK!" cracked Ron's knuckles against the cheek of Roelantish, taking him completely off his feet.

"All right!" Ron said to Roe as he stood over him, his chest heaving. "I tell you what! If you can put me down, I'll listen to whatever you have to say."

Roe was flat on the ground, rubbing the stinging spot of that punch and gazing up at his onetime friend.

"Fair enough!" he replied as he got to his feet. "Weapons?"

Ron unclipped his harness and his short sword, tossing them aside. He was determined to keep his promise...no swords.

"So, you're a 'tenner', eh?" Ron asked with open disdain. "Show me what you've got, big man!"

Roe dropped his weapons belt and raised his hands like a prizefighter, squaring off against an opponent whom none of the nearby soldiers would even think about challenging.

Roe looked to outweigh Ron by easily ten percent, and it was quite clear to the onlookers that this was going to be one hell of a fight, so the entire training area ground to a halt to watch.

Ron gave up two inches in height to the Chavarre warrior, and Roe was more solidly built...his great barrel chest being stout and his arms thick. He was a very powerfully constructed fellow.

The pair of dueling men met like a couple of heavy-weight boxers...nearly toe to toe they stood as they traded blows that sounded like someone tenderizing a side of beef with a baseball bat. Ron drove Roe back with quick combinations that pounded his mid-section but would also set him up for the occasional headshots as well. That went on for the first ten borts or so with neither showing much sign of faltering.

"Geez, this guy is tough!" Ron heard his brain admit before his anger pushed that small compliment aside.

Roe realized his opponent was slightly advantaged with his quickness, and had to adjust his style, but he landed plenty of hard blows on Ron too, enough to have crushed any normal man in fact. However, he saw no indications from 'Shartae' that he even felt them.

Ron threw flurry after flurry, smashing Roes arms and body, yet not derailing his adversary's challenge enough to notice...and the surprise of that registered profoundly into his strategy. He felt the pounding too, but after the Retribution Games, pain was barely a bother, so until something important either broke or tore inside him, he would continue.

Spectators quickly gathered about the two combatants while calling to each person they saw to come and join them, and before long, the entire town was emptying out to run to the fight.

Most of those in the crowd knew only Ron's reputation, but many quickly began to wonder and speculate about this new fellow...an adversary who could withstand such a terrible assault and return the same. It wasn't long before bets were being made throughout the throng...with most favoring Ronin-Shartae...but just who was this new man?

A couple of newcomers from the western side of the great plateau knew of Roelantish and spread the word of his reputation as a hunter of the yetsole cats, as well as a fighter and bounty hunter. He was both feared and admired at the same time. No one liked the fact that he hunted men, but since those that he was paid to find were typically outlaws...murderers, rapists, and such...he was more revered than hated in that land.

After a good while, the boxing gave way to some new moves. Ron leaped suddenly and kicked at Roe's face, sending him down again, but as he landed, his own countering move swept Ron's feet. In a blink they were both on the ground and splayed in the grass. Each rolled quickly, springing up neatly and attacking again straightaway.

The fight turned into a fantastic, uninhibited brawl at that instant with both men driving hard at the other with fists, elbows, knees, feet, and even a well-timed shoulder.

Ron was bleeding at the nose and lips as was Roe, and Roe had a cut over each eye from Ron's incredibly fast feet, but relenting was not on the option list, so on it went.

Another half billot of such warfare found each of the mighty foes beginning to show definite signs of fatigue. And as more devastating punches were thrown and blocked, they each felt the tingling in their limbs telling them to end it...soon. But 'stubborn', 'obstinate', 'willful', and plain, old-fashioned 'hardheaded' would have fit the two of them at that point as neither would admit defeat...so on it went.

Their faces had turned bright red from stinging blows as had their torsos, blotchy in countless spots that marked each powerful strike, and the crowd was now in a frenzy. They were sharply divided between the two fearsome adversaries...between their respect for Shartae and their rapidly growing admiration to anyone who could stand against him. Could there truly be such a man who could match the legend of the Retribution Games?

Roe finally threw a straight right that Ron slipped inside of and returned with the back of his elbow crashing into Roe's temple, sending the big man down hard. Roe rolled and made it to his knees but he was clearly dazed and put up a weak block to counter Ron's next punch, taking it full on...his senses sent reeling into nothingness and his body lay sprawled out on the ground.

Ron rocked back, his entire body dripping sweat and shaking from the fight.

"Holy crap! That's one tough sonofabitch!" he thought as dozens of men rushed in to congratulate him, slapping him on the back and cheering his name.

"Shartae! Ronin!" mixed in a cacophony of raucous chanting.

Ron swayed under the friendly assault and made to leave, feeling relief that it was over...but a deeply sad sense of loss as well. He'd truly enjoyed his friendship with Roe, back during his first few days on Caron. He'd been so sure of that bond.

"Are you ready to listen yet?"

Ron turned back to see Roe pressing himself up to his knees.

"What?"

"Are you ready to listen yet?" Roe repeated, wiping his bloody face on the back of his filthy forearm. "This is not over until you listen to me! Or kill me!"

Ron just glared at Roelantish disbelievingly.

"No more playing around either," Roe announced as he retrieved his swords from one of his men. "Let's get serious!"

Ron donned his harness once more and the black, razor-edged weapon of death slid slowly from its berth with a resounding chime. He then put it into motion with a sizzling figure eight pattern, and switched hands in mid swing so smoothly that no one even saw the change. The crowd all murmured in awe of his abilities, but Ron was not trying to impress...he was merely loosening up. He took a moment and accepted an onlooker's offering of water, splashing his face and head with it and then shaking his short, shaggy mane vigorously.

The last time they crossed blades; Ron had been exhausted from a day and a half of sleepless travel and worry. This time they would be equally drained. This time they would find out who was truly the master.

Josy came rushing up through the crowd at that moment.

"Let me pass! Baushe'! No! You must not fight him! Please...you promised!"

Ron held up his hand to her.

"Stay back, Josy," he said...his eyes never leaving Roe's approaching form. "He made this call."

Roe also took an offered drink and a cooling splash of water, and then his expression of determination returned. When the two heavy-worlders clashed, the front two rows of spectators cringed in unison and fell back; not believing that metal so thin could withstand such force.

The contrasting weapons, one bright silver and the other black as pitch, were the only differences as the two goliaths fought with equal ferocity. They locked blades several times but neither could make any headway on the other.

"How could they still raise swords anyway?" the spectators wondered after witnessing that punishing hand-to-hand bout.

The next time they found themselves straining, blade to blade and arm to arm, snarling and growling at one another, Ron twisted hard and lashed out with a spinning kick that surprised Roe enough to send him stumbling away. He quickly followed that move with a strong attack to keep the bigger man off balance, hitting Roe with a barrage of unrelenting fury, and was sure he had him beaten finally...but he did not.

Roe retreated swiftly and hung on under an assault that he couldn't have fathomed before this day. No man had ever pressed him in all his many cycles as an adult, always able to overpower any challenger, holding back to keep his true ability secret...until now. Now he fought with every possible ounce of strength and every hard learned tactic that he could draw on. This man from the stars was a true master...and a pure demon.

Ron continued his attack, across the wide training ground twice, drawing on his own hard won experience to keep changing and alternating his style...to keep Roe off balance. Roe no longer chose to lock blades with Ron, but instead, just kept deflecting the dark blade no matter how fast if flew at him, and Ron finally came to realize just what a fantastic fighter the Chavarre man really was. Roe was incredibly strong, yet immensely patient. He was able to turn aside every attack, waiting for Ron to slow down, to tire out...conserving his own energy as much as he could. Even though he too was being drained, Roelantish knew that when the attacker finally gives up, he is most often beaten. Having spent his strength and not attained his goal, the aggressor typically loses his determination as well; having little hope to stop what he feels is a forgone conclusion.

As the bout grew in length, the crowd of swordfighters watched intently as Ron's form gradually got sloppy. His once powerful strokes diminished and his push slowed. Roe saw the look in his eye fade from exhaustion and so he suddenly felt hope again, changing gears abruptly...taking the fight back to the attack mode...now pushing Ron back...and back...and back.

Now it was Ron's turn to struggle to keep up the pace, his blade slowing even more, barely swift enough to get into position to nudge the incredible pounding slashes of Roelantish's sword aside...and a few times it cost him some minor wounds.

The cheering spectators were astounded that anyone could continue such a struggle for so long, they themselves growing tired from the stress of merely watching the battle...yet on it went.

Roe pressed and wailed away, getting closer and closer to breaking Ron's defensive guard...he could feel victory was near and so drew back on every reserve of energy he had. He didn't intend to kill or maim Ron, but he also knew that in a contest as fiercely fought as this one, that may be the inevitable outcome...willing to take that chance out of pure desperation. If they were ever to collaborate against the Kreete, Ron must first be made to listen!

Ron was falling back heavily now, stumbling in his retreat, his shield of defensive blocking moves was cracking.

"Just another few litas and he'll be finished," Roe thought as his great chest heaved and gasped for air.

But by then something else occurred...Roe felt his own strength ebb quickly. That little extra he'd drawn on had been it...the last of his vast well of strength. His arms were unexpectedly growing numb from the unbelievable demands he'd forced upon them. His weapons felt as if they were being coated with lead...every swing getting heavier and heavier, compounding his labor until his muscles no longer obeyed his brain's orders. His once commanding and precise blows now missed their marks badly, forcing a new realization to strike home in his thoughts...he was spent.

When that epiphany registered clearly in his mind, a sudden transformation materialized instantly on his opponent's face. The demon from the Retribution Games unexpectedly reappeared...in full fury!

He'd been duped!

Ron was not flailing about, barely keeping up with the fight. He was resting...and baiting his foe. He played Roe's game perfectly...and now it was over.

With four tremendous blows, Ron disarmed Roelantish and then his fist smashed Roe again, sending him once more crashing to the ground.

Before the larger combatant could shake the stunned, spinning confusion from his mind, he felt the cold edge of the sable blade at his throat.

Ron waited until the light of reason returned to Roe's eyes before he spoke. The crowd around the two champions went dead silent at that point. They all waited to see if Shartae, or Ronin, or Ron...whatever each called him...would exact the ultimate penalty from the burly challenger, or show him mercy.

As Roe's focus locked onto Ron's unwavering glare, he ceased all attempts at a struggle, no more fight left in him. He was beaten...and exhausted. For the first time in his life, another man had put him down...not a Kreete warrior...a man. He was both humbled and inspired.

"You will leave this camp now and never return within sight of me! Do you understand?"

Roe lay there fighting for breath, his whole body quivering from over exertion.

"Are you ready to listen yet?"

Ron just stared at him as if he were deranged. He held the sword at Roe's throat for another few litas before withdrawing it with a grunt and rising to his feet.

"See that he leaves immediately!" Ron said to a few of his men as he turned and walked away.

He too was exhausted, and his entire body ached from the pounding of the last billot's clash. His hands throbbed, as did his head, and he had to peel his fingers loose from his sword. He'd held on to win the bout...but just barely, and as he moved toward Josy, his heart was very heavy and his soul was in profound turmoil. He knew he would need her soothing company.

"She did not betray you!" came a shout from behind him.

Ron ignored it.

"I tricked her into helping me...and she nearly killed me when she found out!"

Ron kept walking.

"She was in the stands at your matches...with the boy! It was her who figured out a way to get food to you! Food that was laced with special medicines that helped you heal...and live!"

Ron stopped short at that...his back still to Roe. There had been a slightly taller, hooded figure always next to the boy who threw food to Ron in the arena. That boy had saved Ron's life...he was certain of that.

"If this is just a lie, how did he know about the boy?" Ron pondered.

He turned back to face Roe as his men began ushering the Chavarre leader away.

"Hold!" he ordered.

They all stopped instantly, and the audience that had been dispersing regrouped hurriedly.

"What city was my first bout?"

"Sartsisen."

"What was my first match?"

"I don't know. I wasn't there. But 'she' was! I didn't know what happened to you after your recapture in Huinrag until two santaris later...and then it took another three weeks to find you...but somehow...by the Guardian's grace alone, she tracked you every step of the way!"

Ron stood still then, his mind racing at what all this meant.

"You men...take his weapons. You!" he said to Roe. "Get cleaned up and meet me in the great hall in one billot!"

Ron then left to tend to his own grime-covered person, the divine Josylinia Gitove at his side holding on to him tightly and extremely relieved that he had survived. She had only recently been made aware that her father had apparently investigated Roelantish thoroughly at some point. Karne told her that Roe had fought in the Caronian Games long ago under another name, that he was a "tenner", and that he was rumored to be the finest human swordsman on the planet, possibly greater than even Kaskle Dangarth himself.

### Chapter Ten

### The Explanation

Ron Allison stormed about the small backroom of a local tavern...the Chugalug Café...as Josylinia tried to get him to stop so she might tend his injuries. His lip was split in three places, his nose was bleeding, he was exhibiting a few slashes from Roe's blade, and there were several partially hidden bruises and scrapes that she wanted to investigate. Their brawl had been extremely intense.

"Baushe`, please!" she pleaded with him. "Sit down and let me clean up your face at least!"

Ron grudgingly flopped onto a short stool where she immediately rushed in and started doctoring him, standing directly between his splayed legs, worried that he would spring up and begin his pacing once more if she dawdled.

"He'll be spewing a pack of lies that I'll have no way of confirming!" Ron growled. "Why am I even meeting with that flarge dung?"

Josy stopped her medicinal mending and gripped his face firmly in her delicate hands.

"Father trusts this man, Baushe`," she told him warmly. "And I will be there to try and judge his sincerity. Remember, he is all that saved us when they attacked our home! Just listen to what he has to say! The most complicated..."

"I know...I know. The most complicated of situations may have the simplest of answers," Ron repeated gruffly, but then as he gazed into her lovely eyes, he couldn't suppress a tender smile. "I am grateful that you're here, Josy. You're my 'good' conscience...especially when I feel the need to let the 'evil' one run the show."

She leaned in slowly and gave him a long, passionate kiss that forced the fire of his anger to squelch to a simmer.

Josy then went back to her nursing duties and Ron held onto her by the waist, his eyes filled with the incomparable beauty of her. She dabbed and winced at some of his uglier wounds until she had a good, thorough look around, and then she inched her way right up against him, to have access to a deep cut at his hairline. Ron didn't make a move to avoid her probing attention as her ample breasts ended up barely an inch away...directly in front of his face and straining hard against the cloth that corralled them. She finished with the cut above his brow and then slipped her fantastic legs around his to sit squarely in his lap, facing him.

His mind easily switched gears from the previous subject matter to a totally new one, and as she cleaned his injuries, kissing each one softly before moving on, he felt a much more pleasant focus rising to the forefront of his mind.

Josylinia knew very well how to distract and placate her man.

The café's door suddenly opened and an enormous figure stooped to enter. Karne Gitove had arrived, per Ron's request. Josy didn't pull away from her lover in the presence of her gargantuan father, his approval of their coupling having already been acquired, but she did return to her doctoring. She finished her work a few moments later and then kissed Ron again quickly before slipping out of his grasp and moving to the side.

Karne's sons weren't with him on this visit. He didn't dawdle at all, taking a seat close to Ron on a long bench that stood against the wall.

"I thank you for coming, Karne," Ron told him, his mind returning to the previous dilemma, but with a bit less fervor. "I know you have much to do so I'll try and make this quick.

"You know of the fight that Roe and I had earlier?"

"Yes," was all that the Reaper had to say...he not being one to be overly talkative.

"Josy and I will be meeting with him in a short while and I would like to know something."

Karne simply stared back at Ron, his silver eyes completely blank to any reading by the man, and unwilling to venture a guess as to what he wanted.

"I would like to know why it is that you trust this man. He turned me in, coerced Cache against me, and possibly set up that whole ambush at your home!"

"No...he did not!" was all Karne replied.

Ron stared back at the huge fellow with clear amazement.

"How can you be so sure? What do you know of him anyway? From what I've been able to find out, he's a man for hire...to the highest bidder...no matter what!"

"Your information is flawed. He is with us to help. He is one of the only two 'men' I truly trust! You are the other."

"Thank you," Ron countered while still puzzled. He was honored that this fantastic warrior held him in such high regard. "But why do you trust him? How has he earned such esteem?"

"Simple. He is my brother!"

Ron couldn't have been more mortified if he were flash-frozen into a solid block of ice. His eyes went blank and his mouth hung open in the middle of a breath. Even Josy was a statue of surprise. Ron and she slowly exchanged stares of bewilderment before he became animated enough again to let out the first of a thousand questions that had instantly flooded his thoughts.

The room they were in was designed expressly for the privacy that it was being utilized for and so they spoke freely amongst themselves.

"Your 'brother'?"

"Father!" piped in Josy. "Why have you never...?"

Karne put one of his platter-sized hands in the air and stifled any more inquiries from the pair whose brains were spinning at a furious rate.

"You recall the story that I told you all...about why I pulled back from the battles and the wars?"

They both nodded before sliding a couple of chairs over to sit facing the Reaper.

"That was all true, but I left out a few details that I did not want to make so widely known. As you can see, Ron, I have not even allowed this information out to my own family...other than Mishea. She has known from the beginning.

"I am the eldest of a very large family. My father has spread his seed widely around the Kreete Empire during his long career as a military officer. He achieved the rank of Fleet Commander of a Dreadnaught battle group more than two hundred cycles ago. His ship made first contact with at least a hundred worlds.

"One of his last children born before his death was a boy...Roelantish...by a heavy worlder woman from Obsidiane...a class ten-point-two planet at the far side of our realm. He was strong, even for his home planet, and our father had extremely high hopes for him.

"When Roe was still young, I was stationed on Obsidiane and lived in a large house with him and his mother, and I grew very fond of him, and he of me. He always looked to me for inspiration and advice because our father was no longer in the same quadrant as we were. As he came of age, I had just surpassed the rank of Master Killer to reach my current status, and my new duties were going to take me far away from him.

He feared no one and nothing...and let me tell you, on his planet, that was really something. But he was not sure about the 'Treatments'; those series of genetic drugs that convert men into Kreete warriors. He preferred to stay a man. It should have been his right to choose, but our father would have none of that. He would be a Kreete warrior...the strongest ever! Father was furious at his wavering and immediately took leave from his duties, returning to Obsidiane to monitor the procedures himself.

"Now, let me explain that in some cases, these genetically forced changes do not work. The being's body may reject them, and often times it results in a very excruciating, prolonged death. That was the case with Roe.

"Our father blamed him for not wanting to become what he should...that he had caused the reaction due to his cowardice!

"I watched that boy mature into manhood, Ron, and I can tell you that such accusations could not be further from the truth!

"At any event, when the prognosis was ninety-five percent certain death, Father slew Roe's mother in front of him for bearing such a pathetic heir, and then left in disgust. He returned to his battle group, leaving his son abandoned to suffer through the horrors of that agonizing fate.

"I wanted to be there with Roelantish during that time, but my obligations delayed me. I arrived barely two billots after our father's departure, and I swear to you that I would have fought him to the death for such a dishonorable act...but it was not to be.

"I managed to delay my new assignment and was able to get Roe treated illegally, by some highly experimental reversal agents that had been developed as contraband. It took an entire cycle of painful endocrine flushes to rid his system, but he survived.

"After that, I smuggled him here, where he is never allowed to be Kreete and is condemned never to be Caronian. He has been happy though, and now he wants to be free of the Kreete and all ties with that life...other than me."

When Karne's explanation concluded, it was time for Ron to meet Roe in the Great Hall, so he had no opportunity to ask any further questions. He doubted any would have come to mind anyway however, so he and Josy simply rose and headed off for the conference.

"Thank you, Karne, for trusting me with your secret."

"We must trust one another, Ronin...you and me...if there is to be any hope of survival."

Ron admitted he was undeniably correct on that assessment. They would be key players in the upcoming conflict, of that there could be no doubt.

"I heard I missed an impressive bout," Karne rumbled as he followed them out to the street. "That is too bad," he added before heading back to his quarters.

Roe was sitting in the designated location with ten men guarding him when Ron and Josy arrived. His eyes were already beginning to blacken, as was Ron's, and his lips were swollen and bloody, as were Ron's.

Ron dismissed the guards and sat down across a wide table from his former friend with Josylinia glued to his side, her arms lovingly draping his shoulder for an added calming effect.

Ron gave her a quick squeeze of thanks and then turned to Roe. "All right then, let's have it!"

"Ron," he said with a slight mumble to his words, the result of speaking through his torn and puffy lips. "In order for you to grasp the entire story, we have to go all the way back to the city of Mardesh, where our paths initially crossed, unawares."

Ron's expression turned to one of extreme confusion, but he stayed quiet.

"To begin with, I was sent there for a meeting by coded document, from a source that I still don't know...only that they represent the rebellion. I didn't know who I was going to meet in Mardesh, only that he...that is, this person...was the one the resistance had been in contact with for the past cycle. I just naturally assumed it was a man, and in fact, I half expected it to be you...because of our discussion that night out on the mountain. But when I met secretly with the leader from Shavore, Gordan Farnsede, I found out that the Raulden ambassador was a woman.

"He and I met through a complex series of prearranged message drops and signals as we always did...you can never be too vigilant or cautious as you know. The problem was that the whole process took a bit too much time."

"The night I was supposed to meet this contact face to face, I followed Gordan back to the Hand's Width Inn and up to Cache's room. We found her missing, but she'd left him a note explaining her absence. The message said she'd been summoned by her contact to meet at a certain location, which she provided. Of course it was immensely obvious to us both that something was amiss, and since she was our greatest hope for assistance against the Kreete, we tore out of the hotel immediately and rushed to the address she'd left.

"We were too late to prevent her capture though and spent the next several days desperately hunting for her, until we happened into a private arena where we witnessed her fighting. Gordan recognized her straight away. She was in unarmed combat with a man from the audience who was easily twice her size, and she used several unorthodox moves to fend him off, eventually putting him down with a crushed kneecap.

"That lady is one feisty little female," he said with a slight chuckle. "I have to give her that!"

Ron felt his blood boiling at the thought of tiny Cache in such a situation, but he too remembered that she was no dainty little doll to be pushed around, and her dense molecular structure gave her some formidable abilities. At any rate, he said nothing...his stare unwavering. Roe acted as if he didn't notice and continued.

"We immediately made an attempt to purchase her and ended up in a bidding war with another fellow, the representative of Meerstal Chardaal...the governor of Huinrag... who had much more money with which to work. We had to withdraw but kept a careful watch until we found out when and where she was to be sent. I took all her possessions with me, said farewell to Gordan, and then rushed ahead to gather my fifty-man security force to set up an ambush for the slave caravan that transported her.

"That would have been a dicey battle too, if it had come to that...trying to take out the convoy's troops and not injure the prisoners.

"As it turned out though, I was waiting just a few hoz further up the road when Graen veered into the forest in an attempt to thwart what he apparently thought was an attacking band of men. I had no idea he'd made that detour at that time, so I waited a good while, quite impatiently, until my advance scout brought word to me of the change in course of the caravan. I then gathered my troops for a more dangerous attack, feeling certain the Commander had somehow exposed our plot and altered his route to thwart us.

"We set out fearing we would lose many in the battle, but Cache was just too important to us all to allow her to reach the fortress of Huinrag.

"Oh, I almost forgot...one other bit of information had presented itself too, before Gordan and I parted ways back in Mardesh, but I didn't give it the weight I should have at the time. He told me a man was supposed to have met her in Shavore, but he hadn't seen the fellow and didn't know if he ever made it...and he surely had no idea how frantically that guy was trying to reach her, as were we.

"Anyway, my men and I went to the head of the side trail that first night but decided to make camp there. If the slave convoy was aware of our plan, we would have been walking into a disastrous ambush, so we chose caution. It would have been extremely difficult no matter what, to get my troops to venture into that dark, wooded land even without the threat though...it being widely known as too perilous to chance moving through at night. That bit of hills is crawling with naars and brendies, not to mention the poisonous jefarrs."

Ron knew those creatures from his studies of Caron, and thanked his luck that he'd stayed mostly in the trees. The ground foraging naars were huge, scaly, pig-like critters that were nearly impossible to see at night. Too, they sported long, razor sharp claws that could cut through three-inch-thick tree roots with ease, and were well known for attacking any mammal that might cross their path. The brendies were similar in appearance and ferocity to the Komodo Dragons of Earth, however their ability to attack in large groups further added to their deadly reputations. The jefarrs were flesh-eating vines that grew across game trails and ensnared their victims as they passed through, injecting them with a paralyzing venom which allowed it time to grow over the animal and devour it slowly. Death by jefarr was known to be extremely painful.

"As you know, I've spent countless days out in the wilds, so, after only a couple of billots, I grew too impatient to wait, feeling daring enough...and arrogant enough...to risk it, and decided to chance the hazards. I set out to see what was going on, and my first lieutenant refused to allow me to go alone, so he joined me while the rest of the men stayed in our camp.

"It was very slow going, with the darkness looming so heavily that we could almost feel its weight on us...fearing every strange movement or snap of a twig. Toward morning, we eventually got close enough to hear some of the screams from the caravan's group, but whatever was happening sounded menacing enough that we decided not to continue on any further until daylight.

"It was apparent that the camp was under attack, but with just the two of us; we couldn't chance getting caught up in a battle between foes we couldn't readily identify. Also, we agreed that it seemed very unlikely the slave wagon would be involved with any fight...and if some members of the caravan were killed, the better for us.

"Things calmed down as the sun's glow began to fill the sky, but we moved forward at daybreak very hesitantly...and after finding a couple of badly mutilated corpses that morning, we paused again to reconnoiter and consider our options. By the middle of the day, my guardsmen were with me again and we had completely investigated the scene of all the commotion of the previous night.

"There had indeed been a battle, as many lay dead on the ground of the clearing where they'd camped, and in the surrounding forest. But what was very odd to my men and me was that the dead were all from the one group. No other bodies could be found...nor could we locate even a few tracks from any other party. Arrows were stuck in the nearby tree-trunks as if fired blindly from the camp, but no blood was found...or any evidence of a threat. It was as if the forest had unleashed its wrath against them on its own.

"We cautiously took up the trail of the Kreete's convoy once more, but paused at each of the dead soldiers that had been slain along the path...as well as the slaves they'd killed before perishing themselves. We still found no answers to the question of who was at war with them so I began to think that possibly they'd tried to overthrow their Kreete commander and were slain, or perhaps he went mad and was killing them without just cause. In any event, I was certain by then that Cache was in grave peril and Caron's hope for help would be lost with her. After all, who would volunteer to assist us if we, in turn, couldn't even keep her alive long enough to meet with her?

"Further along the way, we found one of the male slaves who'd dropped by the wayside due to over exhaustion. He was entangled in a jefarr and was suffering badly from a high fever, so he couldn't give us any information about what had happened.

"With the evidence that clearly showed most of the slave wagon's escort had been killed, my men moved much faster. If we were to run up on the remaining force, we felt confident we could easily overwhelm them, so caution was quickly becoming less of a concern. We soon were blazing along at a strong gallop in the wake of the panicking Graen, but not fast enough to catch them before the entire battle at the suspension bridge was long done. We arrived there on the morning after you left the area with Cache in your arms...from what I have pieced together from her accounting of the ordeal.

"I discovered bloody hand prints descending the dangling bridge planking and wanted desperately to follow your route across the river to save time, but my men convinced me that was pure folly. They argued that I couldn't risk so much when we had no idea if she were even still alive...and they were right.

"We finally backtracked all the way around to another crossing and didn't get back to the scene of Graen's demise until two days later. By then, rain had obliterated the trail badly and we wasted another day following the main road away from the bridge before reaching a little community which confirmed the caravan had never reached that point, and no other strangers had either.

"We returned to the bridge and scoured the area anew, only to be interrupted by the Hellions under the leadership of Karne's second in command, Brauchic. I was at least alert enough, or lucky enough, to get my militia disbanded before the Kreete crashed the scene from the north, and so I waited there alone.

"I was growing even more desperate by then, so I offered my services as a tracker to locate the group, proclaiming the woman as my property who had mistakenly been mixed in with Graen's caravan by an unfortunate happenstance.

"I am well known in the territory as a bounty hunter who's willing to be 'in league' with the Kreete if the money was right, so they didn't doubt my story...but the Kreete commander was a bit too proud to accept my assistance until the next day, when his own men admitted they could find no trail.

"I spent two more days locating your escape route and then followed it very slowly since it was exceedingly weak. Also, I kept expecting it to veer off up one of the many animal trails that were widely spread across the wilderness, not considering that those we sought might find comfort in the wilds.

"When finally I found that little cove, Brauchic's best man was practically joined with me at my hip. I recognized Cache's golden haired glow instantly and my spirits soared...but I didn't know who she was with. Too, I didn't want to risk an all-out battle that could injure her, so I thought furiously and came up with a plan. I sent the Kreete back to inform his superior of our find while I stood guard to prevent your escape.

"I would have tried to say that you two were not the ones they were looking for, but Raighn, the Kreete scout I was with had a very detailed description of the woman from the manifest they'd received over the com. He used his field glasses to make a positive identification of her. The man...you...was another matter. I was too far away to see you clearly, and the scout was unwilling to share his optical device, so I just presumed this stranger was one of the guards...or one of the slaves...either way, it mattered little. I'd found what I was looking for.

"It was still early morning and the man was in the falls when I saw Cache rise, cast aside her night garment, and then move off to join him. At that point, I crept closer, but couldn't chance being seen, so I stayed in the heavy thickets and never got a good look at the fellow...not really being overly curious about him anyway. My focus was on her.

"When she ventured out into the forest to take care of her personal needs, I found myself fortunate to be in the same locale. The Kreete scout was still away, so I grabbed Cache when she headed back to the camp. I kept her quiet by holding my hand over her mouth, and identified myself by our prearranged protocols...five separate and unrelated statements that were answered by her precisely. With my identity established, I told her to come away with me...that she and the man were surrounded by Kreete, and that I would guarantee her safety.

"By then, you...I mean, the stranger...was at the waterfalls rinsing out his clothing, and time was short.

"'What about him?' she asked with her voice full of fear and hesitation.

"Mind you, I still didn't know who the fellow was, but quickly understood that Cache was joined with him. I didn't ask who he was, and she offered nothing.

"I had to think very quickly.

"If the Kreete see him armed," I told her, "they will attack and kill him. Gather up all his weapons and stash them out of sight. Tell them that he found you wandering around alone, abandoned after a terrible battle, and that he nurtured you back to health...that he is innocent of whatever happened to Graen. There is no one to prove differently, so he will simply be sent away. We can contact him later."

"I could see that Cache's mind was spinning from the frantic situation, but she hastily accepted the plan.

"Now, let me explain this next part carefully. Before she arrived on Caron, we had to come up with a new identity for her that would allow her to move about with us and not draw excessive suspicion, which she understood would be a 'last resort' alias. It would explain away why she could be always surrounded by numbers of men yet barely draw attention. As deplorable as it may seem, it was the most logical justification in our society."

Roe hesitated long enough to assure Ron that what he was about to say would not be well received...and he was right.

"She was deemed a sex slave," he concluded.

Ron felt his jaw clenching tightly and the blood rush to his face. The idea that she might have to make good on that cover story set fuel to the flame of his anger.

Roe hurried on with the story to occupy Ron's thoughts, if not suppress his anger.

"While she was trying to assimilate the tentative situation she was in, I told her; 'One other thing is that we'll have to act out the cover story that Gordan provided you with. I've already told them that you are my pleasure girl...and have shown them your papers as such...so you will have to play the part well. Do you understand?'

"Her eyes lit on fire at the mere suggestion, and I saw her expression morph to fury and suspicion instantly.

"'Just a welcoming kiss will be sufficient,' I told her, 'but I will have to touch you rather vulgarly.'

"'Where exactly?'" she asked with her face as red as a ripe parc.

"'No, no, no, not like that. Just a little fondle of your backside. I apologize now for that, but what else could I have told them? They think you're my personal slave.'"

"Cache reluctantly agreed because she knew that we...even you...couldn't possibly fight our way through twenty-five heavily armed Kreete warriors with just a couple of swords, a few knives, and no arrows.

"Mind you now, she still hadn't told me who you were...her being either too overwhelmed with the plight we were in at the time, or simply not ready to trust me with your identity.

"I hastily gave her a temporary, yet very convincing 'slave mark' before we parted company. Then she went into the camp and did as I'd asked, and I went back to my lookout position just as the main Kreete force arrived and took up positions all around the cove.

"When they were finally ready, I found out that the Lieutenant's commander, Karne, had found my men who'd stayed behind to help the sick slave I mentioned. That fellow had recovered enough by then to tell them he saw the phantom up close. Apparently, this demon-warrior who decimated Graen's troops had stopped long enough to check on the poor man and leave him some water he took from one of the guards he'd killed. That was before he stumbled into the poison vines.

"The slave described you in great detail and confirmed that you were one of those who had attacked the caravan when they showed him a picture of you.

"I was in a bad bind then because I knew that the Kreete wouldn't be likely to spare the stranger, but my priority was still all about getting Cache to safety, no matter what else occurred, or who else got hurt. No matter the outcome of their decision about the man...in the end, Cache and I would be allowed safe passage, so I just followed through with the plan. I justified my decision with this thought; 'Her safety and that of our global project was worth one man's life. I was willing to sacrifice him...you...for the future of our entire people.'

"It wasn't until Cache had already played her role as my slave wench that I realized who the man was...and frankly, I couldn't believe it was you. But by then, of course, it was much too late to change the arrangement, so I played my role out to the end with the hope that another opportunity to free you might arise later.

"This is the part that escaped you in those first few borts...and subsequently solidified your own point of view about the matter.

"You were knocked unconscious too quickly to see Cache's horrified reaction to the Kreete's attack. She screamed in absolute horror and ran at the soldiers...ready to throw herself between them and you...and would surely have been slain if she'd reached them. When she sprinted by me though, I corralled her roughly and carried her away to a place where I could make her understand what had happened.

"When the Kreete lieutenant questioned her about the attacking force of men, she said that she never saw anyone due to being knocked out during the last attack. She said she didn't revive until she was found by 'that man' wandering about the edge of the ravine, over three hoz south of the bridge.

"She was asked about her 'fraternization' with the man and responded that she felt she owed him for saving her life and repaid him with what she could. She was absolutely convincing, since her fear was genuine as well as her distress.

"Her bondage tattoo was examined and then she was given to me for my part in the capturing of you; the murderous outlaw they sought. We were requested to go with the Hellions to Huinrag for debriefing and to get my bounty money for you...the standard fee for all armed traitors of the Kreete Triad.

"We had to go and collect it, Ron, or they would have been suspicious.

"You never saw Cache crying uncontrollably day after day and her constant fighting with me...threatening to pull Rauld's support if I didn't somehow get you released.

"She even tried to seduce your freedom through Brauchic at the banquet just after you were brought into Huinrag. I brutally stopped her at that time, as you no doubt recall, because I knew that she would only be used and then discarded.

"Ron, she would have sold her body and soul to the Kreete to spare you what she feared was to come...what, in fact, did come."

"But Brauchic said that you two had done this many times before..." Ron blurted out at that point, interrupting his story. His voice was tinged with fury.

"What?"

"He told me she was just a plaything that you used to seduce men into falling into your traps...and that she was the one who'd planned and controlled the whole ambush they laid out for me."

"That's ridiculous! We never met before that day...I swear it! Oh, I see...I see! Did you know...well how could you...Brauchic is a Krosepten warrior...a Master Killer. He has been thoroughly trained in the art of interrogation. He saw your reaction at the cove, when you were so surprised that Cache would come willingly to me...and then again when your unblinking glare tried to burn through her at Huinrag. He must have pieced together enough of your situation...that you had tracked down and destroyed the caravan and only saved 'her'...and that you stole her away to such a remote location. So that gave him an attachment to work with.

"One of the most basic needs of men is the love and adoration of a beautiful woman. He could tell that you expected such things from her, so he just twisted the entire scenario around to get you to feel abandoned, distraught, and used...the first step in breaking one's spirit, and thus, his will to resist. Of course, that didn't work too well for them, did it? They didn't know who it was they were dealing with!"

Roe could see the wheels turning in Ron's mind...recalling those memories and the events of such profound pain and distrust. He could see how agonizing it was.

"Another thing you should know is that when you made your escape attempt from Huinrag, you were not the only one firing at the Kreete on that high wall.

"You missed us in the Inn by mere borts, when we went to the bank for our reward money, but we heard of your miraculous escape and followed you about the city by watching the pursuit. When you dashed for the outer wall, Cache was trying to cover you from her own vantage point...and did a fine job of it too. She put down six scouts as they tried to close on you.

"I tried to explain that if she were noticed, we'd all be doomed, but the fire in her eyes told me to back off or get drilled by one of her arrows!

"I had no other alternative and no long-range weapon because they took it from me when we entered the city, so I did the only thing I could...helped her reload the crossbow she'd stolen from a fallen scout.

"When you went over the wall, she leapt with joy and flew down the stairs from her third story perch, on her way to the main gate. Once there though, she was stopped by a throng of Kreete military might who were pouring from the city...and when you were carried back through the gate, unconscious and full of arrows...blood pouring from your body, she collapsed and had to be carried off as well.

"I moved her to a safe little town, just north of Huinrag...one that had a competent doctor who could look after her, but she refused to eat, lost weight, became very ill, and I think she nearly died in the weeks following that failed escape effort.

"When she finally recovered, she barely spoke to me and was constantly disappearing for long periods of time. During the sixth week following your disastrous escape, she just vanished one afternoon.

"By then, I assumed you were dead. No one could have survived that long in the torture cell. I was so discouraged that I left as well, and went back to my old haunts. I eventually put out feelers to try and make contact with her again, hoping that she would eventually respond and that I might somehow convince her to return to our cause, but I had little faith in that.

"After more than a santari though, I heard of a great fiend of a fighter in the Retribution circuit called Shartae...a man who fought like a beast and could not be killed by any creature.

"That is when I began to have real hope again.

"It took me a while, but I caught up with you eventually and began following your every match. I knew she would be there as well, so I searched the crowds every day, but I never saw her.

"Then, one afternoon I received a note from her. How she found me, I'll never know, but she asked me to go to a little town called Wreetage, and spread the news of 'Shartae'. She wrote that the people in that area would eventually figure out who you were and join forces to rescue you.

"When that was done and I caught up with you once again at your latest venue, Gratoon, an opportunity came to me one day. After seeing you repeatedly accomplish some physical feats that were nothing short of astonishing, I expanded my thinking to incorporate acts that no one would consider possible.

"On that miraculous day, before your bout, a giant ceatary was part of a gruesome event between beasts. The apparatus the trainers used for the bird was a huge crossbar mounted on tall posts, where the creature was lashed. When the team of preparatory workers began reorganizing the layout of the arena, I managed to distract the overseer long enough so that he ran out of time and couldn't remove that device without delaying your match. I convinced him with a huge tankard of strong ale that it didn't matter and might even add to the bout.

"I wasn't positive that it would be useful to you, but I suppose it was...eh?

"Anyway, after your escape from Gratoon, I followed my usual methods of information gathering and began blanketing the area for news about Cache, still convinced she was paralleling your every move. I finally received word that she was living in Tabey and went to her.

"She was furious at the mere sight of me until I told her about aiding your escape...at least the miniscule part I played in it. For that act alone she agreed to let me join forces with her in finding you, warning that if you were found dead or recaptured, she would never help the Caronian people again.

"We collaborated for about three weeks before I made contact with a certain buonta-bean farmer, whom we both know now."

Ron didn't volunteer the information Karne had so recently shared with him and Josy...to maintain a certain level of discreet knowledge he might use in the future.

"When I finally passed the Reaper's customary background check and was invited to his home, Karne informed me that I'd missed you by barely a billot. Josylinia didn't wish to betray you and would only tell her father that you'd gone to Tabey on an errand. But I knew immediately where you were headed and rushed back with all haste with the hope that I could at last explain and resolve the horrendous calamity I'd caused you...and beg Cache to not give up on helping Caron.

"When I found you ready to kill her, 'I' nearly passed out. If you would've only let me explain!" His expression was one of such frustration that Ron knew it was the absolute truth without Josy's help. "No matter what, it should've been me at the end of your sword, not that lovely, compassionate, brilliant woman.

"She was not seriously injured, by the way...at least, she was fine when I last saw her.

"My men trailed you out of town, but I stopped them before they got too far after Cache warned us not to follow you. She said that if you thought we were hunting you, we would all die.

"That was probably the best advice I've ever received.

"She broke down and wept openly over the clothes you left in her apartment, convinced that you would hate her forever. She was still coughing, and her neck was bruised and sore from her fight with you, but when I tried to look after her, she wheeled around at me and screamed, 'I deserved it, did I not! He should have killed me for what I did to him. Did you see him? Did you see what they have done to him? I should be dead! I should be dead! Get out! Get out now!'

"I left her on her knees, rocking back and forth in a panicked state. She kept repeating, "What have I done? What have I done?"

Roe stopped his story then, his words catching in his throat as he remembered the pitiful, dejected sight of her. It was several litas before he could continue.

"I left her alone for a few billots to get something to eat, and returned later on...finding her still huddled on the floor. She was cold and unresponsive...in shock no doubt...so I got her dried off and helped her to bed before I left her again, hoping she would eventually sleep.

"My men and I stayed overnight in the adjoining rooms, with guards outside and in the hallway. When I went to check on her the next day however, she was gone again. I don't know where.

"Ron, no matter what you think of me, or what you think of my explanation, you must find her. You must find her and absolve her for the part she unwittingly played in all of this.

"She considers herself a monster for her betrayal of you. She's not thinking straight, and I'm afraid of what she may do to herself. You're her every thought...your safety, your suffering, and your love are all she thinks about. If she convinces herself that you would be better off without her, I..."

Ron was the one with eyes filled to the brink now, his face so red it looked baked from the sun...but that flush was no longer from anger...it was from shame. He knew, or should have known, that she could never have betrayed him. He tried for weeks to convince himself of that, through all the pain the Kreete imposed upon him, through the nonstop barrage of questions and the accusations that Ron's own people had betrayed him for money.

"They abandoned you," the interrogators had said over and over. "They bartered you...sold you to us! Why do you protect them with your pain? Who are you? Where is your army?"

But eventually he'd given in to that pain. Over time and ceaseless agony, it had turned his rational thought into unrelenting want of revenge. Ron hung his head low then, so disgusted with himself that he felt nauseous.

"Ron," Roe finally continued, "my friend...and I know how this all sounds now, after what I did, but I always was your friend...she is not safe from herself. She was overwrought and exhausted and scared and hurt...but I think it might be more than that, and I don't know how long she can hold on to her sanity without you. I think she may end up...suicidal."

Ron's head snapped up like he'd been jolted with a thousand volts of electricity.

"What did you say?"

"I think her guilt, her disgrace, her remorse, has led to a depression that may be too much for her. She has no one to turn to for support. She is alone in this harsh world, surrounded with only strangers whom she can't truly trust. Up till now, she's had her entire focus on helping you, on freeing you, on righting the wrong that has eaten away at her for all these long santaris. Her unrelenting drive was the hope that she could make you understand the depth of her love and devotion to you...to get your forgiveness."

Ron couldn't have been more dumbstruck. He stared at Roe for several moments...too shocked to respond to the news. Time, location, exhaustion, worry, and even joy all were put on hold while his brain absorbed that information.

He turned his head slowly, and the sight he beheld brought him back to reality like a sledgehammer...Josy! She was in tears as well, her expression a state of pain he hadn't seen before, and he could easily guess at the cause.

His mind spun furiously then, not knowing what to say, and not wanting to hurt that gorgeous creature beside him.

"Josy, I..."

She waved her dainty hand across his statement like sweeping his words aside.

"Baushe', you don't have to explain," she told him softly, wiping her eyes and nestling up even closer.

She took his large, callused hand in her small, soft ones and gazed up at him with love and tenderness. "I know that you loved her before me and I'm honestly overjoyed that you've finally learned the truth about that terrible day. I told you no one whom you truly loved could have ever betrayed you. But I don't know how she has managed through such an ordeal, my love. Just trying to imagine what it would feel like to have you think I had betrayed you like that...and that you truly hated me...wanted me dead..."

She broke into sobs and buried her face in his shoulder at that point.

Ron's eyes still brimmed with salty tears from Roe's heart-wrenching recounting of the past, and they dripped fully now, as he was so overwhelmed with her compassion.

"Now," Josy said, sniffling and drying her eyes again, "I think Roelantish is correct in his assessment of her condition. You must find her, Baushe'. You must find Cache and bring her back to safety...for her own well-being as well as yours."

Ron could not believe the empathy of this lady. That news would have devastated any normal woman, but all she considered was what was best for him, and for Cache.

Ron pulled her to him and embraced her...and she molded herself to his body.

"Are all intuits as spectacularly wonderful as you?" he whispered into her ear.

She just smiled and kissed his neck.

"Thank you, Josy. Thank you for understanding."

### Chapter Eleven

### Where Are You?

The call went out immediately to every individual Ron was sure he could trust. He needed them to speak to their clansmen and disseminate a vague description of Cache...a petite woman with eyes the color of murge. He hoped someone might have seen her, or might see her in the near future and relay her whereabouts back to him.

Their instructions were very clear...find her, but do not approach her, or question her in any way. She was not an enemy, but rather a valuable asset to their army who'd been frightened away from becoming involved. Heath Sarvand and Janson Raidene even took the long trip back to the Yetsole Valley to investigate the chance that she may have gone there to join up with Crogan's army effort.

Lilea's heartstrings tugged at her mightily, wishing to return to her husband's side with every passing day. However, she felt compelled to stay, still waiting for the final dimensions and drawings for a new, high-powered weapon which was currently in development. And since she was the most technically gifted of the Lampsh group, that only made sense. Jarle stayed behind with her to be her escort when the time came.

At that point, the search turned into a waiting game...one that Ron did not enjoy.

"What happened to you, Cache?" he voiced one night while he was out all alone walking the perimeter and staring out into the darkness...his thoughts clouded with apprehension.

The night Ron Allison visited Tabey; from Cache's perspective:

Cache was incredibly sad. She'd just returned from a few days out on a house call far from town, and she always fell into depression when she had no one to care for...nothing to take her mind off Ron...and what she'd done to him.

She picked feebly at her dinner and quickly gave up on it, having little appetite at all, and chose to soak in a hot bath instead (A great luxury item in that town that cost her double the price of a normal apartment).

She dressed in her nightgown, still feeling melancholy, and slipped out of her bedroom silently, not wanting even the slightest sound to disturb her sorrow at times like that...when she was in a mood to sulk. She was missing him immensely and stood at the cabinet which held everything she had of his, just wanting to be close to something he once possessed. She wished the same wish as always; that she could go back...go back and correct the terrible decision she made that day.

It wasn't supposed to have worked out the way it did. She kept saying that over and over in her mind, trying desperately to convince herself she'd done the best she could at the time...given the facts as she knew them then.

She ran her hand across the black scabbard of the weapon she once made for him. The weapon he'd wielded to defend her so many times...to defend her people, her world. She closed her eyes and tried to remember him. His face was clear in her mind. He was smiling down at her after just having made love so wonderfully that she could still feel the coursing vibrations of its aftermath. That was so perfect.

She could almost smell his scent...but the rainfall was filling the world with its moisture, drowning out the sounds and smells of the land. Then...

Suddenly the hairs on her neck bristled. She could feel a presence, there, at that moment...in the very room in which she stood. Ron's longest throwing knife was a hair's width from her hand. She grabbed it and wheeled about instantly to defend herself only to be completely helpless in the next moment...held in the grip of such a formidable adversary that her face blanched. She'd felt such strength only once before, when a Kreete Master Killer wrenched her from his back while she tried to aid Ron, back on Rauld. But this was no Kreete warrior. This was a man!

He was tall, especially in such close proximity to her petite figure, but that alone didn't dissuade her. Her knee shot up sharply, the training her lover had taught her immediately snapping into action. The man easily slapped it down again. Her free hand swung at him then and he brushed the blow aside like swatting an insect. She craned her head up to see who it was that held her fast, but he was hooded and dripping wet from recent travel outside the apartment.

The pressure in the hand that trapped her then increased sharply, until she was certain he would snap her arm, but he eased up a hair as her knees give out. A moment later the sound of the knife imbedding itself into the wooden planks of the flooring echoed through the room.

"Why?" the man asked.

His voice was familiar to her. She'd heard it so many times, in calm tones, in tense tones, in passionate whispers...and now in nearly uncontrollable fury.

"Ron?"

A flicker of candlelight revealed that her long search was over. Her days, weeks, santaris of searching, praying, and hoping were all at an end. In an instant of time, shorter than the blink of her widening eyes, her emotions surged to stratospheric heights. Her heart lurched into high gear and a thousand prayers were finally answered. This man before her was none other than her heart's song...the love of her life!

"He is alive!" her heart screamed at her mind. "He is safe! He is here!"

Finally she was complete again...the other half of her soul had found itself back to her. She could once again breathe and smile and laugh! She could share with him the wondrous news of the precious gift they'd been blessed with.

"My darling? Is that you?"

"Why did you betray me?"

Then, as the smile began to form on her full, luscious lips...the ones that craved so desperately to be crushed to his, she truly saw his eyes. His hood was casting his face into deeper shadow than even that of the room itself, but those orbs reflected the faint firelight into a set of evil points, and then a sudden flash of lightning forced its way into the room, adding a bit of illumination to her visual receptors.

That smile she'd begun to form froze instantly from the sub-zero temperature of the man's piercing glare. His expression was stone...harsh, cruel, and malign...filled with anger that could not be hidden...and something more.

"What is wrong?" Cache's mind queried, "Does he not recognize me? Does he not know who he holds in his bone crushing grip?"

Another huge bolt of lightning flashed at that moment; obliterating a tree barely a quarter hoz away and flooding the room with light as bright as daytime for a long lita. In that span she got a better picture of his appearance while the booming sound of thunder rattled her nerves as well as the wares on the nearby shelves.

Those full, hot, luscious lips that had, only moments before, been ready to transfer the expression of her face to show the joy, the pride, the love she held for him, curled back into a shocked grimace of horror at what that light had revealed.

His once smooth, dark skin that encased his iron jaw and masculine countenance was literally covered with bright pink scars crisscrossing his face. They showed evidence of innumerable beatings, lashings, bites, burns, and other ghastly, cruel instruments of which were used to wreak such atrocities...and it was too much for her to accept.

Her reaction of horror was not meant to reflect the sight of his condition as much as it was to reflect the realization of what must have occurred to her love to have left him so badly injured. Her heart shattered for him. Her mind clamored for comprehension of what unbelievable, indescribable pain her heartthrob had endured. The gasp that escaped her mouth was not descriptive of her sight, but of an even deeper sense of guilt, remorse, and angst which she accepted fully as her soul responsibility.

"This is all my fault!" her mind screamed at her.

She tried to understand his statement, and responded quickly once she realized that he too blamed her.

"No! I did not!" she said hastily...fear jumping into her mind's comprehension of her predicament. "This has all been a terrible misun..."

His free hand slammed into her throat at that point, cutting off any attempt at explaining she might have had. The hand that once caressed her body into a melting pool of sensual desire now was doing the exact opposite.

She tried to speak but no air could escape his powerful clench. She doubled her efforts to explain, to tell him what insane circumstances had caused her actions, but it was no use. He lifted her up to his level...to have her face closer to his, releasing her arm so that he might loosen his cloak and let it fall away. She could then see the terrible signs of his captivity did not stop at his face, but ran on down every inch of his torso she so admired. Her tears flowed freely by then and she pulled and pried at his arm while his other rested calmly on his hip...as if bored.

Her fight went to the iron-hard digits that were half buried in the tender flesh of her throat, but they were solidly entrenched...immovable...rock.

She tried to mouth the words; "I did not! I did not!" hoping to get her message across to him. He just stared back at her blankly.

He let up on the pressure in his hand as he saw her eyes lose their focus. That allowed blood to get to her brain but was still far too tight for her to take a breath. She then clung to that limb with both of hers, hoping she could ease the strain on her neck...her feet swinging freely a foot from the ground.

"How does it feel?" he asked her with a sneer of his lip and his jaw locked down hard...practically hissing at her.

Cache could hear his words as if she were watching from off to the side...not able to respond at all. Her ability to think was rapidly burning away because the air in her lungs was dipping dangerously low again.

He let up a bit more and she coughed and gagged and fought feebly as her cognizant functions returned.

"How does it feel to be choked to the edge of death only to be brought back again, just to go through it all over once more?"

The force on her throat increased again and she began to panic. She changed her own grip on his arm to one of attack, her moderately long nails trying to press through his iron muscles, causing blood to flow freely. He didn't even flinch.

"Do you know how many times they did this to me?" he asked, pausing to think for a moment. "I can't even remember the count?"

Cache's mind screamed again and again, "I never meant to! I never meant to!"

"Do you know how many beatings I had...how many bones they broke...how many lashes they wore out...how many times they worked on me until they were too tired to continue?"

Her heart was a black hole of remorse, seemingly an endless void of sorrow and pity and regret. She cried for her lover, for the suffering he'd endured, for the unseen scars she'd unintentionally lashed onto his heart from her betrayal. It mattered not about how she'd convinced herself she'd had no other choice. The outcome was all that mattered now.

She felt herself floating as Ron moved over to the window so he might look out at the city cast in the gloomy, rain-soaked night. As he gazed through that portal, he lowered her to the floor and eased his hold enough to permit her to recover again.

She gasped and coughed more and her head pounded as if suffering from a bad concussion...the restored flow of blood slamming through her system.

Ron released her at that point and walked away, allowing her to fall in a heap to her knees where she fought her gagging reflexes to gulp in air once more.

He went to the cabinet and began to strip out of his wet clothing while she swooned and coughed.

As Cache recovered enough to try and speak again, she looked over at the man of her dreams. He was stark naked when the next flash of lightning turned the night to day again. Her eyes...bloodshot now from her grief and pity and guilt...locked onto his figure as he toweled off. She vomited.

"What have they done to him?"

Her mind was nearly ready to split, so distraught was she.

"What horrors had come to be in those dreadful lower levels of Huinrag? How could a sentient being be so full of hate and contempt of life that they could injure another to such a degree? And how is it even remotely possible that so much abuse could be withstood? Who could survive that? What would he become?"

Ron finished dressing...taking back all the items she'd so lovingly kept safely hidden away for him...for the day he would be returned to her. She had many times thought to give up on that dream...to simply turn herself in to the Kreete in exchange for his freedom. But she knew that no matter what she gave them, or did for them, he would not be released. The Kreete would simply add her to their list of conquered individuals and he would die in the arena.

She took comfort many times over the past santaris by clutching his clothes to her breast...to draw from the strength of her love. And in those times of despair, that slight comfort was the only thing that allowed her to sleep. She had to be strong for him...her will must not falter. She would aid him when and how she could until a plan for his escape could be devised.

Ron completed his task and approached her again, clipping the waterproof Raulden cloak to his ensemble, and then he crouched down barely inches from her, and stared at her for a long while.

"I love you!" she managed to squeak out between coughs, trying to defuse the visage of hate she saw in his eyes.

He jerked as if electricity had suddenly blown through him.

"You love me?" he returned with his deepest sarcastic tone. "Is that why you delivered me to THEM?" he screamed at her.

That tiny statement pushed him to complete and total rage once more and she tried to scramble away before he snatched her up by the throat again...but his moves were blindingly fast.

"Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!" he roared as he held her face even with his and his short sword poised at her torso, its tip just under the swell of her tender bosom.

She saw her life end in that moment as he seethed his hatred at her through his glare...his own eyes deeply reddened and tears streaming across his ragged cheeks.

She gave up her fight at that moment. He was right. The man she had pledged her life and her heart to now wished her dead. Her anguish overwhelmed her reason, overwhelmed her animal instinct to fight for her life and the life that was growing inside her. They would perish, but at least she would die knowing that 'he' still lived...and that he was free. That would be enough.

She stopped kicking, stopped squirming, and stopped trying to explain. She had betrayed him and now she would pay. Tears flowed down her face in rivers. She cried for the loss of his trust, for the loss of his love, and for the tiny child that now would never be.

Just then though, she saw a change in him. Ron's blade began to shake. His own tears doubled and his expression softened. He couldn't do it. He couldn't run her through and see her life end in his grasp.

Cache began to lose consciousness again, her air supply once more depleted to dangerous levels.

She felt the sword leave her body and heard it slide back into its sheath hard...but it was like sensing it from afar...in slow motion. She had the sensation of floating again as he effortlessly pressed her out the window and into the cold rain. She struggled not at all as her feet drug against the windowsill until they dangled three floors above the street.

The rain pelting down on Cache's body revitalized her enough to know where she was, and she stared back at Ron with empty eyes. All of her high-morality plans of helping worlds escape destruction at the hands of her one-time ancestors fell to the side. They'd been set aside anyway when Ron fell captive to their enemy, and she'd devoted every waking moment and her entire mental focus on securing his release. That too was over now. The only thoughts she had at that moment, while she waited for the gut wrenching sensation of free-fall was, "I am sorry. I love you. I failed you."

She'd sunken so low into her guilt by then that she welcomed it. Death for her would be a step up from her purgatory of continual suffering.

Ron was saying something else to her, but it didn't register in her mind. "Treachery and subterfuge suits you well!"

"I trusted you!" he shouted at her, shocking her back to focus.

"No!" she tried to say before he squeezed hard enough to have her spine pop audibly as the vertebrae realigned. "Please, no!"

"I trusted YOU! I killed for YOU! I...I loved YOU!"

She felt his hold on her drop to almost nothing and she sucked in air to fill her scorching lungs. "Here it comes," she thought, ready to pay her penance.

"I would have died for you!" Ron said then with so much heartache that it registered clearly in his trembling voice.

His glare of hate subsided as if his anger had suddenly drained out of his face, and was replaced, for a moment, with that of the old Ron. She saw something in his eyes just then...a glimmer of her old lover was surfacing...reigning in the demon that had burned its way into control of his faculties.

"Was it possible that he would return to his senses in time to save her?" she thought.

Then his attention switched to something else. His demon side snapped back in control and his head spun to look behind him. Cache could see almost nothing with the rain spattering in her eyes, while she waited for her punishment.

Ron shouted at someone behind him. Blood was eking its way back into her brain by then and that, combined with the cold rain, helped her return to full consciousness. She squinted against the downpour and saw a person in the room. He stepped a bit closer and she recognized him. It was Roelantish!

"He will explain!" her mind screamed.

She coughed hard and gasped, her hands grabbing hold of Ron's forearm once more as her will to live came rushing back.

"Roe will make Ron understand that it was entirely a freak coincidence which ended horribly...that she would never have betrayed her heart of hearts."

But Ron Allison was in no mood to listen. He was once more beyond anger...beyond reason...and beyond caring what Roe and his "little whore" had to say. He was thinking only of escape.

The next moment startled Cache so much that it was several borts later before she realized just what had happened.

The sensation of free-fall surged through her body and her adrenaline spiked with it. She wasn't dropping 'down' however, but 'sideways' instead. Twenty feet through the air, her body flew until it collided with Roe's and two of his men, trying to catch her before she hit the wall. They piled to the floor and when she looked up, her one true love, her unborn child's father, the other half of her beating heart, was gone again.

"Cache! Are you all right?" Roe asked in a huff.

She gave no response. She was desperately trying to catch her breath.

"Cache! Are you badly hurt?"

She managed to stop her spasms enough to shake her head in the negative fashion.

"Okay then, I'll be back soon!" Roe explained as he rose to his feet to take up the pursuit of Ron.

Cache grabbed his ankle with both her little hands and he pulled up short.

"Do not..." she tried to say, coughing more. "If you follow him..." she wheezed...pausing for a breath and a hard swallow, her soaking wet hair dragging across the floor as she went into a coughing fit again. She reached up to her badly bruised throat and her body shook violently from a combination of the cold rain and her near death experience. "You will all die!"

Roe let those words sink in for a few moments of contemplation.

"Are you all right by yourself, Cache?"

She gathered herself to her knees and shivered more. Roe snatched up a blanket from a nearby shelf and covered her with it hurriedly.

"Cache!" he said forcefully, trying to get her to respond. "Will you be all right if I leave?"

She reached her trembling hand out and grabbed the pile of wet clothes that Ron had discarded and pulled it to her. Roe watched as she gathered it all tightly to her and began to rock slowly back and forth, muttering...muttering and coughing.

"What have I done? What have I done? What have..."?

"I am going to stop my men, Cache. I will be back soon."

She uttered no response, so he made all haste to catch up with his band before they were slain by the ferocious warrior who had at one time been his friend.

At some point later that night, she heard Roe return. Her mind was turned off...too deep in shock to have a clear picture of those early morning events. She would eventually have a vague recollection of arguing with him, and about him helping her change out of her wet clothes and into something dry before he carried her to bed and checked her vital signs. She would recall a foggy memory of Roe kneeling for a long while at her side, until she finally closed her eyes, tears still leaking from those violet gems...her hands cradling her belly.

Cache slept fitfully for a few billots until a dream startled her awake with a jolt that nearly released a scream from her lips.

Ron had come back as a true demon, with burning red coals for eyes and fire flickering as he spoke. He attacked her straight away, pulling a maniacal looking sword which had a ghastly, serrated edge dripping with blood, and plunged it straight at her womb.

"I will not sire a child with such a treacherous BITCH!" the demon Ron roared.

Cache sat up with her eyes fairly jumping from her skull...only to acknowledge she was in no immediate danger at all. The rain was still pummeling the roof, and the one lamp Roe left on was quietly casting a dim light about her small boudoir.

She was fully coherent once more; no longer hysterically comatose and despondent, but instead, in the fiercely protective mode of a mother-to-be. Her poor decision back at the cove had cost her nearly all she cherished in the two worlds she knew. Ron was gone now and her hopes of reconciliation with him were done, but the brief time of utter joy they'd shared had brought her a gift she could treasure for the rest of her life. She vowed then and there to protect it through any and all means.

She had no plans other than to escape the place where he knew how to find her...to disappear as before and leave no trace of her destination. Possibly she would even return to Rauld so the child of their love would always be safe. She knew that when Caron's planetary shield finally initiated, her friends on her home-world would send Cnauts to come looking for her.

It was too early for that though. Right now she needed to go...and quickly. Ron would have slipped away to a safe distance to guard himself against Roe's men, but when he realized they didn't follow, he could return easily and complete what he began.

In less than half a billot she packed everything she needed, much less bulky and heavy now since Ron's belongings were no longer part of her collection. She strode quickly to the door...past the wet pile of clothes he'd discarded, it catching her attention momentarily. She paused for a brief time, searching the room and her thoughts carefully...but her focus returned to that pile.

"He is no longer part of 'us'," she told herself and the tiny life inside her. "We must move past this!" She then strode away, pointedly ignoring that glaring reminder of Ron.

The rain was still coming down hard as she left her rented room to stand on the open balcony overlooking the town. Without another lita of hesitation, she left behind her life in Tabey by way of a hidden rope to the roof, thus cleverly avoiding Roe's guards. It was a plan she'd devised when she first moved in...in case the Kreete should discover her identity. A few borts later, she stood in the alley next to her apartment, having repelled expertly down to the ground. She set out then, staying in the shadows as much as she could. She wanted no one to know she'd left for as long as possible, hoping for a good few billots head start to any pursuit.

Mixed with the heavy rain was a thick layer of smoke from the nearby chimneys belching away to keep homes dry and warm in the depressing weather. That added to the gloomy early morning darkness, but also to her stealthy escape while she made her way to the doctor's clinic where she normally reported for his assignments.

He was the only physician in that part of the territory and had to cover a great deal of area. He'd been extremely pleased when Cache offered her services and quickly learned that she possessed a great deal more knowledge than he did about the inner workings of the human body. She even coached him about how best to repair and treat the differing ailments they encountered, about combining medicines and increasing the potency of home remedies. And although he remained the primary physician to the locals he knew, he eagerly became the pupil to her...even while she refused to accept that advisory position formally.

She'd been well trained on Rauld as part of her required education lessons...to them, barely delving into the science at all...but would easily qualify as an accomplished physician on most worlds.

Cache went into the office to leave him a note explaining her deepest regret that she must leave unexpectedly. An emergency with her family was how she put it. As she turned to leave though, the sound of a galloping horse sent a jolt of dread racing through her once more.

"Who was coming?" she worried. "Was it Ron again? Was he returning to complete his mission of revenge?"

When that speeding animal pulled up and stopped outside, her heart nearly froze, but she managed to keep her head and faded into the darkness of the back office. A large man then rushed into the clinic, his heavy cloak spattering rain all about.

"Is anyone here?" he called at the empty darkness of the two-room clinic.

Cache hid inside a freestanding closet in the other room...her own sword at the ready, however futile that might be against he whom she feared.

"I need a doctor!"

She then recognized that it was not Ron's voice so she ventured out cautiously, still ready to defend herself.

When she stepped to the opening that separated the two rooms, the man saw her weapon and instantly shed his cloak and drew his.

Cache glanced about quickly. He was alone.

"You have come at a very early billot," she told him, still gripping the hilt of her naked blade.

He was a fellow of considerable stature and well-muscled. He wore no armor and no shirt...too hot in the moisture rich air, even with the rain. He stowed his weapon immediately and pleaded with Cache.

"Please, my commander has been gravely injured in a conflict with a goarn. His wounds are deep and I fear he has lost too much blood...or even worse, infection. I need your doctor as quickly as possible. We must hurry!"

"Where?" Cache asked.

"Half a day to the southwest."

Her note was in order for the doctor and she was already packed to go, so she took that opportunity to vanish.

"I will go with you," she announced, stowing her own weapon.

"You?" the man asked with open surprise and not a little disbelief.

"Yes, me!" Cache retorted with her old fiery spirit.

"Forgive me, but I have never heard of a lady doctor...especially a lady of such beauty!"

Cache's demeanor softened at his compliment, although still indignant at his previous comment. Nevertheless she continued.

"Where is his injury...describe it to me."

"The beast ripped open his side and I could see his lung, up under some broken ribs."

"Was his stomach or intestines punctured?"

"I...I don't know."

She stepped over to an under-counter cabinet and removed a tube made from the hollowed out rib of a bartcha, (a Caronian bull) and a crude pump assembly, adding that to her gear; then turned back to the man.

"We had better go now," she said calmly as she strolled past him to the door.

She seemed confident and knowledgeable so he decided he would trust her abilities, especially since there was no one else about. He scooped up his cloak and reaffixed it as he followed her out into the miserable weather and down the muddy street to the stables. A quarter of a billot later they were thundering down the road, side by side.

### Chapter Twelve

### The Policemen

When Cache and her escort finally reached the encampment of soldiers, she found his superior was indeed grievously injured. His abdominal cavity lay exposed in a horrid wound that contained four shattered ribs and had peeled back his skin and muscles to enable a full view of his inner workings.

The men standing guard over their commander had incredulous looks on their faces when she moved in for a closer inspection, and would have stopped her had it not been for the man who'd ridden with her.

"Leave her to her work," he ordered in a stern voice that the others did not challenge.

Cache tossed off her cloak and washed her hands quickly before turning to those very men with her own orders.

"You will need to hold him down while I conduct a survey of the damage." Her lovely face had changed to one of stoic focus. "This will be very painful for him, but must be done."

Four men gripped the commander's extremities tightly and her escort slipped a leather riding crop into his teeth as he moaned.

She had to use her small hands as well as the crude suction device she'd taken from the clinic to empty the open area of a large mass of pooling, congealing blood. Next, she carefully cleaned him up as thoroughly as she could and inspected him by feel for punctures to his nearby organs...greatly relieved when she found none.

His lungs were functioning as well as she could hope for, and though he'd lost a tremendous amount of blood, he was stable with a very weak pulse. She gave him a powerful sedative to let him sleep...once she was confident it wouldn't kill him...and then began to sew up his wrecked body.

It was long and tedious work, and the leader's guards rotated shifts twice before it was over, but Cache never paused except when her escort offered her water, holding the vessel so she might drink without contaminating her hands.

At the coming of dawn on the following day, she sat back finally in an exhausted slump and viewed her work. On Rauld, he would have been in no danger at all. Here, with no proper tools, or facilities, no Flarinca tank, and no Fortell with his group of overzealous assistants, she guessed he had a fifteen percent chance at surviving.

The man who had summoned her turned out to be second in command of the traveling police force in whose camp she now resided. His name was Jorin Graive and he never left her side through all that long day and night...other than to relieve himself. He had food brought to them and even hand fed her when she refused to stop her work to fulfill that basic need.

"You're finished?" he asked her softly as she drooped her head and closed her eyes...her hands still covered to the elbows in the man's blood.

Cache nodded without lifting her head from its resting place on her crossed arms. Jorin gently took her hands one by one and drizzled water over them, washing away the gore until they were completely clean again. She felt weak and drained, too much to refuse his attention, so she just sat there and breathed.

When he finished drying her now shaking hands, he hauled her to her feet and escorted her to a different tent, some hundred feet away. The meager structure was surrounded by men...two on each of its four sides...standing in the deep mud with a heavy drizzle still falling.

Cache looked suspiciously at the arrangement and then at Jorin.

"Forgive me again, but we have nothing better for you. There is hot food waiting for you inside, hot water and soap so that you may freshen yourself, and all of your things have been moved into there as well. It is my tent, but I shall stay with Rasche until he is on his feet again.

"These men will make certain you are not disturbed. You're in no danger here, Cache...you have my oath on that."

She was extremely tired and therefore decided more from necessity than actual trust, to take him at his word, so she did as he bid. The strain of her physician's duties had purged from her mind all the previous night's trials, at least until she was washed and dried and snuggled into a rather comfortable bed of stacked sleeping mats.

The sickening pull of guilt and loss tried to return, but luckily for her, her thoughts were so jumbled from fatigue that she had no chance to give in to her sorrow before she was out.

She slept through that day and the night as well, with the ever-constant rain strumming against the outside of the tent, drowning out the chance of any other sound waking her. Her rest was remarkably dreamless; her mind unwilling...or unable...conjure up any more visions of death at Ron's hands while her body regrouped, rested, and calmed her aching heart.

The following day began for her when a soft light struck her eyes and she awoke to a gentle hand at her throat, checking her pulse.

Her reaction was just as anyone's would be...her eyes flew open with a harsh glare and her fingers reached for any weapon within grasp...but there was none. She'd been too tired to prepare the way she normally would have.

"I'm so sorry, Cache," came a whispering voice that she didn't immediately recognize, so she shrank away from the probing hand.

"I mean you no harm...please...I'm sorry."

As her brain fought through the fog of such a long slumber, she saw that it was Jorin, and moved back a bit further...afraid of his intentions toward her and afraid for her helpless cargo.

"I didn't mean to frighten you," he said as he moved back quickly and knelt with his head down and his hands up. "But I was growing terribly worried when you didn't awaken at all yesterday and I...I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

Cache's heart raced from the trepidation of having a strange man at her bedside, until her bladder kicked in.

"Oh, my," she squeaked, grabbing at her very tender throat...her voice still ragged from her recent ordeal. "I have to go!"

"Please don't!" Jorin begged. "I'll leave and not enter again, I promise."

"No! That is not what I mean. I have to goooooo!"

"Oh...OH!" Jorin acknowledged as he shuffled to the door flap. "I'll wait for you outside then!" he told her as he stumbled out of the tent in a rush.

Cache found her pan for such a situation and moments later released such a loud sigh that it carried further than she intended it to, and she heard Jorin chuckle at the door. She was a bit embarrassed, but giggled too at the thought of her predicament.

Once that task was behind her, she got dressed and threw her cloak over her before joining Jorin in the still raining out-of-doors. The Commander remained completely unconscious, so they checked him carefully for signs of infection. Cache redressed his wounds and then together with Jorin's help, she poured some more medicine down his throat.

"I removed a cupful of blood from his cavity yesterday evening, but today he had almost no buildup," Jorin informed her.

"That is good," she replied hoarsely. "I am sorry that I left you with all that, Jorin. I apologize for not being there to care for him myself."

"Think nothing of it," he replied, now wondering why her voice was so ragged. Until then they'd been so focused on helping the leader that they really hadn't spoken much, so he'd assumed it was from the stress. "Undoubtedly you were greatly in need of sleep."

"Yes, I suppose so. It has been a rough couple of days."

Jorin took her over to a large open-sided tent which was set up for their meals, and got them both a good breakfast. Apparently, the nearby village provided the troopers with a few cooks to feed them during the long rainy period.

Cache ate and ate, until Jorin thought she would surely burst...his eyes getting wider at each vanishing bite. She finally saw his inquisitive stare and grinned with a full mouth.

"I have not eaten in a while, okay?" she mumbled as she continued.

A short time later, she felt her appetite satiating and she was getting warm, so she slid back the hood of her cloak and loosened it to drape back off her shoulders...immediately regretting doing so. Jorin went rigid instantly and he reached out to her, his fingers lightly touching her neck. The bruising was undeniably from a large and powerful hand.

Cache flushed and pulled it back up quickly, replacing the hood.

"Who did this to you?" Jorin demanded in a gruff voice, bristling with ire.

"Do not concern yourself with that," she told him softly, returning her gaze to her plate.

"I will not! Whoever has done this horrible attack shall feel my lash...or my blade!" Jorin announced through gritted teeth.

"No, please...you need not worry. I am fine."

"Cache, this is what we do! We are assigned to this territory to keep the peace and enforce justice! If I ignore such a brutal act, I..."

"I said LEAVE IT ALONE!" she shouted and slammed her hand on the table with remarkable force. "I shall leave this instant if you do not comply!"

Jorin jumped at her retort. He then sat motionless for a moment...too startled to do or say anything. This was not some submissive, shy young woman that he was dealing with. She was sweet and kind and gentle and compassionate, but she was fierce as well. Fire sparkled in those violet eyes and met his stare with a firmness that told him to back down...immediately!

He threw up his hands at that.

"Very well. As you wish."

There was a long pause in the conversation after that, which grew too strained. Cache was only picking through her food by then and Jorin was completely bewildered.

"I shall go tend to my duties," he said at length.

Cache's delicate hand reached out and settled on his arm as he rose.

"Please," she whispered as sweetly as she could manage. "It is a private matter...one that I wish to remain so."

Her eyes were gentle and soothing again...disarming and extremely beautiful. Jorin patted her hand and smiled down at her.

"As you wish," he said softly, his demeanor calm and controlled. "I will see to my men and check back on you later."

She sent him off with a sweet smile and they both released a huge sigh of relief.

The Commander, Rasche Brindle, survived the attack but was facing several weeks of rest and recuperation before he could ride and his group could once again begin their patrol.

Fortunately for Cache the rains stopped a few days after her arrival and so she began to return to her more normal, and more active, lifestyle. She tended to the minor injuries that the men received and got involved with every excursion that Jorin made, wanting to keep herself busy and in good shape. She even coerced him into sparring with her so that her skills would stay sharp.

She entered into contests with the men in knife throwing, archery, hunting...she even began running in the cool mornings. Jorin either joined her, or assigned her an armed guard anytime she ventured beyond the camp's confines, becoming extremely protective of their new doctor, and spending every free moment joined to her side.

When the day finally came that she released Rasche, Jorin was nearly distraught over the thought that Cache would be going back to her former life...and leaving him. He'd developed strong feelings for that gorgeous little woman and couldn't imagine her riding off. He pleaded his case to Rasche for her to stay on as their traveling doctor, noting that they could add emergency medical visits to their policing repertoire. He even suggested that she could have his quarters to keep from adding unnecessary equipment to their animals' loads.

The Commander accepted the recommendations easily, but then Jorin had to sell it to her, and that prospect made him very nervous.

Cache listened to him very carefully as he mapped out all the contingencies that he'd imagined...pressing his case as much as he thought he dared without dropping to his knees and begging her not to leave.

She'd grown fond of Jorin as well and could see a real opportunity to do some wonderful work for the people of the sprawling territory. So, with no plans on her itinerary anyway, and feeling the need for companionship and security as well, she agreed to his proposal.

The baby was beginning to grow enough to allow her to feel its movements often and she began to look forward to meeting that little person. Nevertheless, when she dwelled on that thought, she often grew melancholy that her great love would not be with her to enjoy the wonderful event. She consoled herself during those times with the assurance that at the very least she would not be completely alone and the child would be safe.

They traveled slowly through the territory in a large, serpentine, yet circular loop and Cache got to witness what a strong leader Jorin was, especially since Rasche stepped aside for much of the time, due to his injury inhibiting him quite a good amount. That allowed his second in command to run the mission for the most part, giving Cache a definitive view of his conduct and demeanor.

He was brave, and strong, and noble...and a fierce warrior in battle, to be sure, and so she grew to admire what a fine man he was, and didn't overlook the fact that he was very attractive as well.

He would make some lucky woman a wonderful husband, she surmised, but she also began to realize he was becoming hopelessly in love with her. That knowledge pulled her in two opposing directions, causing her a great sense of comfort as well as chagrin.

She was very happy to have someone she could trust to talk to and lean on when she was down. On the other hand, the little flutter she felt in her heart when she locked onto his lovesick gaze made her uneasy as well.

One day, two santaris after she agreed to join the squad, she finally divulged to Jorin that she was pregnant, her nerves jittering as she spoke.

He just smiled at her with his most relaxed expression and said, "I was wondering when you would get around to telling me. I have suspected that for quite a time now, but I felt you wouldn't be keeping it a secret unless you wished it so. You sometimes fail to hide that little paunch you carry, and I know that you are very fit, so I presumed the truth."

Cache blushed at her own naiveté for having thought she'd done such a good job of concealing her "secret".

"Thank you though, for confiding in me now."

"I would have told you sooner, but I..."

"Forget it," he said, waving away her explanation. "I feel I know you well enough to know that you have your reasons."

He never asked about the father and she beamed at his kind, patient understanding...and felt herself grow closer to him still. It was very reassuring to have someone's constant attention and devotion to call on when she felt blue.

She had absolutely no comprehension of the massive and frenzied search that was underway during nearly all that time by the very man she loved so hopelessly...and feared even more.

### Chapter Thirteen

### Surrender

In Gardilane, the days turned to weeks of constant worry, of jumping when every new stranger even mentioned a woman. Ron even journeyed back to Tabey with Roelantish and stood by in his hooded disguise as the mountain man spoke with the doctor whom Cache had worked with, but it was all for naught. It was as if she'd dropped off the face of Caron, and after an entire santari, he was beginning to wonder if she hadn't somehow managed to summon the Starflex Portal probe and return to Rauld.

It was approximately then that a new development immerged at Gardilane. Karne Gitove made a rather rare appearance outside the compound of the training facility one morning, to visit the coordination center of the leaders.

"I wish to speak with Ronin," he informed the group.

The gruff, straight-to-the-point manner of the giant leader made nearly everyone instantly nervous, and Ron knew at once that the Reaper wouldn't have even come into town if it were not serious, so he excused himself and joined the huge being for a walk outside.

"Something has come up, I take it," Ron said as they moved away, into the wide clearing.

"Yes. I have been monitoring the chatter of the Kreete assignment duties and have located the Hellions. I know where they will be ten dactrai from now, and I am going to rendezvous with them."

"I thought you needed to stay hidden? What about the rebellion?"

"It isn't the Kreete way to hide from their attackers. I have a theory about who it was that betrayed me...and I am going to find out if I am correct. As for the human army, there is little more I can accomplish here. If I were to join your men in battle, I would be only one. If I can rejoin my allies, well...that would certainly increase the support."

"But if your superiors have targeted you for assassination, won't they simply kill you as soon as you reappear?"

The gigantic figure of the elite warrior shook slightly with laughter.

"They will almost certainly try...but I doubt that it will be simple!"

At that, Ron joined him in his amusement. "No, I suppose it won't."

"The others will be suspicious of my absence," Karne added a moment later.

"Yes, that's true, I suppose. I'll try to calm them...make them understand."

"Do not explain to them what I have told you. This must remain between you and me! I will leave Neidar to help with the training...and Mishea and Josylinia will stay as well. Perhaps that will aid your position a bit."

"Very well. I'm sure that'll help."

"Larson and I leave immediately. This is farewell, Ron Allison! Until we meet in battle, may your arm stay strong, and your sword sharp!"

"To you as well, Karne Gitove!"

Karne strode away swiftly then, heading back to the compound to collect his son.

Ron gave the Reaper's words a fleeting thought as he turned back to his own responsibilities. "I hope he meant as allies."

Karne and Larson took a chariot pulled by a pair of enormous treen and traveled hard for the next eight days on a circuitous route that steered away from any posts or patrols. It added two days to their journey, but would hopefully keep their covert mission as quiet as possible. They did pass many human communities along the way, knowing that none of them would pay much attention to their movement. Most endeavored to void unnecessary contact with the Kreete...preferring that the 'Lords' keep going and not have business with them.

They eventually reached a point well known to Karne, and camped on a ridge that overlooked a wide, heavily traveled stretch of road in the rolling foothills of the Atshire Mountains. There they waited for the Hellions' arrival, listening to the com as much as they dared without giving away their own position by the carrier wave signature of their unit.

They didn't have to wait very long either, since the patrol-group was right on schedule, gliding through the wide-open mini-valley in their usual manner, late the next day. The patrolmen made their typical stop for the night in a broad, open field, on high, easily defendable ground. As per protocol, they swept the perimeter of the area before dark and placed sentries all around, just as he knew they would.

Karne and his son waited until late in the night, coolly biding their time before making their move. Normally, the Reaper would have slain the sentries of a force he intended to penetrate, but as they were his own men, he resorted to a less aggressive approach. He used tranquilizer bolts in his crossbow that were designed for capturing slaves or animals. They had a wide end with seven short, needle-sized prongs which could penetrate the skin and inject a paralyzing venom into the victim.

(That poison was derived from the klindore wasp...an insect from the plains regions of Caron that could drop a young pravort with a single, well-placed sting. Such insects then send out a chemical rally call to their hive which in turn typically swarmed such prey with millions of its fellows, stripping it to the bones in less than three billots. All the while the poor beast lives through the entire ordeal, completely alert, yet immobile.)

Once through the perimeter, Karne moved directly to the leader's tent, slowly and silently, weaving himself through the sleeping men strewn about the camp like a living shadow. Larson crept in from another direction, his bow at the ready to cover any surprises that might come up, and wondering at the ease of their infiltration. Karne slipped to the aft side of the tent and slit it open with one of his throwing knives, that sound barely audible, and then entered.

If it hadn't been for the light enhancement goggles, he would have been totally blind for the entire mission...none of the moons of Caron having risen just yet...but as it was, he peered around the interior of the accommodations as if it were merely a cloudy day.

The lone soldier in the tent slept soundly, until the cold edge of steel pressed against his throat. At that point he grunted himself awake and his silver eyes searched in the dark for his attacker's face, but he did not move.

"I have been expecting you, Karne!" came a voice from directly behind the Reaper. "You may as well put away your blade."

The former leader of the Hellions slowly complied with that order, turning about to see his once "second in command".

"Well done Brauchic!" Karne said, congratulating his subordinate and seeing that the sleeping horde of the Hellions was not as asleep as he'd thought. Larson stood surrounded by archers and swordsmen also.

"You taught me well. You scouts...light torches!"

"Come...let us speak together," Brauchic said as he led the Reaper away to a fire that was being stoked.

Karne was surprised that he was not immediately killed, and so went along with his captors willingly. Larson was held where he was.

When the two leaders were crouched down across the small fire from one another, Brauchic waved off his guards in order that they might have private words.

"I do not understand you, Karne! Why would you come here to slay me? You suspect me in some conspiracy?"

"You were there...at the house...when the Avators attacked. Someone must have informed them...or Treage...of our meeting!"

"It is true that I was there...and I agree that the circumstances of the attack were a bit too coincidental...but I was not the only one at that location. I was not the only one who knew your plans...and your charge!"

Brauchic's silver eyes showed no signs whatsoever, as they were genetically orchestrated to do. His stern expression remained steady as well, and his posture was ready to defend himself in a duel that he knew he had little chance of winning, even though his superior was now disarmed. Karne was well beyond his level of proficiency; having been awarded so many victories in the Kreete combat sports that only a very few would even consider challenging him. Also, Brauchic was only of the Master Killer rank and lacked the superior physical attributes that those of the Reaper class possessed. Too, he looked up to his leader like a hero...as his mentor...something quite rare in the Kreete society, and truly did not wish to cross swords as an opponent.

"I have no explanations, and offer no excuses, Reaper Karne. I am your first officer...I always have been! Now," he added, getting to his feet. He tossed Karne's swords to him as he backed away. "If we are to battle...let us get to it!"

The area thirty peors around them was now bright from a hundred torches. It was a dueling ring...a challenging circle for settling scores that could not be reached in any other manner. The other forty-eight members of the Hellions stood beyond that perimeter and watched closely as their superiors faced off.

Karne readied himself effortlessly, his blood surging and swelling the muscles of his immense limbs as his mind slipped into the mode of the fighter. It was easy, it was natural, and it was comfortable. He'd been a soldier over a hundred and twenty cycles. It was what he was born to do!

The Reaper class warrior stared at Brauchic calmly. He was a large, powerful opponent, but Karne knew his second in command would fall at the end of his sword. It was not a fair fight. He approached his one-time ally carefully, his two blades at the ready...and then he stopped.

He stared at his subordinate for a long few litas...and then his arms dropped and he turned around. He believed Brauchic absolutely. They'd been together for two cycles, and he'd never doubted the fellow's loyalty...and he didn't now. There was some other explanation for what had transpired. His swords slammed back into their sheaths and he walked away to the commander's tent.

Larson was nearly frantic, and stood stock-still. One never turns his back on an opponent! If Brauchic would have wished, his blade could not have been stopped.

The Master Killer did not however. He simply stared after Karne's retreating form...and then he too stowed his weapons and followed the great leader.

"Stand clear!" Brauchic ordered to his approaching men when he stood once more at the entry flap of the tent.

The members of the patrolling Kreete strike team all retreated immediately to a good distance from that shelter. These two warriors would not dismiss or forgive anyone they might suspect as attempting to eavesdrop on their conversation, and every one of them knew that.

The two commanders spent a large part of the night in close, secretive conversation, trying to examine every angle, every opportunity, and every possible gain that might have arisen from the three attacks on Karne. Each scenario inevitably came back around to one individual...Treage Vitrauge.

"He has been flooding the countryside with his spies, and bribing or threatening every flarge in every town for any information that might bring to bear the whereabouts of you or Shartae," Brauchic told him.

"Yes...of that, I am already aware. But what could he have obtained that would have convinced the Caronian Council that I was a threat?"

"I am not sure, but I have heard whispers of a video...of actual proof that Shartae was at your home."

A light bulb suddenly alighted in Karne's mind.

"So Treage somehow convinced Mochor to attack me, knowing that I would have a minimal force with me at the farm...probably offering to make him the new leader of the two strike teams, and during that raid, they must have been wearing recording gear that showed Ronin's presence."

"That seems likely. Mochor had been fairly blatant about his dislike of you and has made it quite clear that he wished to oversee your domain."

Karne let their discussion churn around in his mind for a long while...Brauchic patiently awaiting his superior's decision. He'd seen the Reaper in this type of thought pattern before and knew he would not be rushed. He poured them drinks of strong murge wine and they ate a late meal without speaking further. Finally, just before dawn, Karne rose and made to leave.

"I will go to Pigonta and see what that flarge dung has managed to dig up on me!"

Brauchic was clearly shocked.

"Karne! You must not! You will be executed immediately...or worse, sent to the public torturer!"

"We shall see," was all Karne replied.

"You know, of course that you must either kill me, or give yourself up to us to stand trial."

"Yes!"

He exited the tent and went to find his son. Together, they submitted themselves for escort to Pigonta, to answer the allegations they'd been doomed by.

### Chapter Fourteen

### Found Her

Another santari drifted by in the lives of the roving patrolmen Cache traveled with before news arrived one evening that altered her life yet again. Word came from their Kreete commander that there were reports of a group of Triad dissidents in the area they were approaching. The written communiqué claimed that these criminals were running a terrorist training camp, and engaging in nefarious acts against the neighboring communities. Rasche and his men were under orders to check out the validity of the information and report back immediately. And if they were unable to contain the situation, a Kreete strike force would take care of it. Rasche and his men's sole purpose was to maintain stability in their region in lieu of Kreete troops, so they performed their duties with great pride and vigor. No one wanted the Lords to install an outpost in their realm less than they did.

Cache, by then, was quite prominently showing the life inside her. One evening after their meal, she and Jorin went for their usual stroll around the open field he'd chosen for their camp. During that walk, a small, simple occurrence shifted their mutual attraction for each other dramatically.

She was in the beginning stages of waddling and was trying to adjust to that fact when Jorin recounted a particularly silly event of the day. He and six of his troopers were negotiating a swampy area next to a river when one of his men failed to see a low hanging limb. The man ducked harshly at the last instant, but his sudden shift startled his horse and it jumped to the side. He was in no position to absorb the move, lost control of his mount, and fell face first into a bog of slimy mud. The picture of that in her mind caused her to giggle hysterically and so she missed her next step badly and stumbled into him with laughter.

Jorin caught her easily, but let himself get swept up in his infatuated delight of being with her...of holding her.

"She is so incredible!" he thought as he held her to him, innocently supporting her, yet never wanting to let her loose.

"Oh, Cache," he said to her, "I love it when you laugh."

He looked long and hard at her exquisite face and knew that he could stare at her forever.

"I love everything about you, Cache. I even love the glorious child that grows inside you, and I wish...I...wish it were mine with all my heart."

Cache's laughter died away with his statement and she couldn't keep from returning his long, deep gaze. He was a good man, a courageous and respected leader. He was handsome and well mannered...and he loved her with all his being. He would be a wonderful father to her baby...she was positive of that...and she also knew that she could be happy with him.

The two of them standing there as if frozen, locked in their emotional bond, drew rising attention from the rest of the camp. In fact, their emotional moment was only broken when a loud whinny of one of their horses broke the spell, causing Cache to glance about and blush red before turning and walking directly to their tent.

They'd been sharing that tiny abode for the last two santaris at Cache's plea. She hated Jorin having given up his leader's status of private accommodations on her account, so she devised a barrier screen to subdivide the space inside. That way they could share it without her totally losing all privacy. It made each of the allotted sides very cramped, but Jorin wasn't about to let that bother him. His heart had leapt with joy on that day...and every one since. He found it extremely gratifying to have her so close to him.

Cache stepped through the flap and then suddenly turned to Jorin, who was entering with an apology on his lips for his forwardness. But when the flap dropped, he found his mouth was unable to utter a sound. He suddenly could not speak, could not think...he could only feel...feel her hot, wet kisses devouring his lips...and he rejoiced.

Cache had been dreadfully worried for so long during Ron's enslavement, only to have hope restored when he finally escaped. But that hope was just enough to give her even more heart-wrenching agony while she searched for him for weeks, for what had seemed like an eternity, until the terrible night when she was cast into a chasm of total despair.

Following that night, she slowly, arduously rebuilt her emotional foundations again...and dreamed of returning to a simile of the happy life she'd so fleetingly found back in the waterfall cove.

Now, as she felt this fabulous man pulling her to him, crushing her lips to his, she too rejoiced. All the waiting and worrying and wishing and wanting had created an enormous dam which was crumbling as she accepted Jorin's unconditional love.

They kissed a long time, until they were both breathless and swooning from desire. Jorin swept her up in his arms easily and stepped to his bed where he lay her down gently and kissed her lips again. His advances moved to her neck, her shoulders, and then, as Cache looked into his love-filled stare, he unlaced her blouse and filled his mouth with as much of her ripened breast as he could manage. He took her pursed nipple with his tongue and squeezed it against the roof of his mouth...and she gasped aloud with pleasure.

Cache lay open and receptive to Jorin's cravings, sharing his passion of the moment and squirming longingly as he stripped her completely. She wanted him so badly...wanted to be loved, to be cherished, and to be needed...like she once had been.

He took a moment to gaze at her incredible beauty when she lay there bared to his unblinking eyes, her rounded belly full of life and making her even more gorgeous. Her breath was quick now and her breasts surged with each intake and exhalation, creating a dazzling show that made Jorin's own breathing become deeper and more powerful.

Cache stripped him hurriedly, not willing to slow down enough to fully appreciate his powerful physique...aside from a certain part of it. Her eyes now burned with need and she reached up to his face to pull him to her...to position him where he could at last take his pleasure of her, and her of him. She felt his organ pressed firmly against her thigh, gorged with the blood of his fervor, and wondered at his hesitation...she wanted to feel it inside her.

He swept his hand down her body one last time, marveling at the silkiness of her figure and wanting that incredible experience to last in his memory. When his hand reached her nether area, he was rewarded with a sopping wet patch of pure desire that jumped at his touch...a quick intake of air sending her closer to the heaven that awaited her...awaited them both.

"I love you, Cache," he whispered as his member dropped into position and he felt the hot oils of her desire moistening her cradle.

She didn't return his profession, but wrapped her legs around his and closed her eyes, awaiting his entrance, and the mind-expanding pleasure she'd found with Ron...her craving so high she couldn't even think anymore.

At that very moment though, another feeling followed, shooting through her as if she'd been stabbed...pain!

"OOOOOHHHHH!" She cried out sharply, causing Jorin to flinch...to withdraw his body from the treasure he'd found.

She looked up at him quickly, afraid, and was hit with another jolt.

"OOOOHH!" she squawked, grabbing her belly with both hands.

Jorin's passion was instantly replaced with worry as he too felt the mound of her womb.

"OH!" she grunted and quickly rolled over to her side and doubled over.

Jorin had felt it as well. The baby was on the move!

"Cache! What is it?" he pleaded, his fear that she was in danger spiking.

"I do not know! The baby is kicking so hard...OH!"

She suddenly gagged violently, crawled to the bedpan, and puked.

The next billot was spent in pain and nausea, after which Cache finally slipped back into her clothes and so did Jorin. They then sat up half the night worried that something was terribly wrong with the pregnancy. Finally, in the very early billots of the new day, Cache let out a great yawn and made her way back to her side of the tent, kissing Jorin tenderly and apologizing for the untimely nature of the attack.

"Think nothing of it, Cache," he told her softly, secretly wishing with his entire existence that it had not occurred. He had an inner dread that they would never get to finish what they'd started.

The next morning, Cache slept in, rising well after Jorin had gone to his duties. He was busy preparing his men to ride out to investigate the facility that he'd been ordered to look into. The morning was very foggy in that grassy meadow and it was slowing them down a bit. He heard Cache calling for him while she went about searching the camp, and immediately ran over to her.

"How are you feeling, Cache?" he inquired, greatly relieved to see her bright-eyed and beautiful again...appearing as if nothing had happened.

"I am fine today," she replied, smiling up at his worried face. "Could we have a moment to speak...privately?"

Jorin looked around, saw that it would be at least half a billot before everything was in order to depart, and nodded to her, leading her back to their tent.

He sat on a low stool and she kneeled at his feet. That submissive posture was totally unlike the woman he was infatuated with, and he got a strong sense of trepidation creeping into his stomach as she began to speak.

"Jorin, I would like to explain to you what has transpired in my life...that has led me to this place...to you. I need to tell you about the father of my baby...and why I am alone.

He sat patiently, his guts beginning to knot, listening to her story with every word burning into his brain.

She said nothing of her 'other-world' origin, nothing of the mission that had brought her to Caron, and nothing of the technological miracle she was trying to deliver to the rebels to free his planet. She only spoke of how she'd met, gotten to know, fought side by side with, and eventually fallen in love with Ron. She told him about how they'd been separated due to unseemly timing and his grief over his wife's death. She spoke of how Ron had spent so much time and effort to reach her...how he saved her from the Kreete's cruel plans for her demise...leaving out Flash's part in the story...and how he'd cared for her, protected her, and eventually consummated his love for her.

She didn't want to hurt Jorin, but she wouldn't lie to him either. He deserved to know the truth.

She choked a bit as she told him about how she had pledged her undying devotion to Ron...and about how she turned right around and betrayed him to his enemy. She explained about Roe's part in it, but didn't use his name.

"But you didn't betray him," Jorin argued, not wanting her to believe what she was inferring. "He has passed judgment on you without the full story!"

"In his eyes, he only saw the one truth...me walking off after disarming him...betraying him with the bounty hunter."

She was sobbing by then and took a moment to collect herself. Jorin's mind reeled as she spoke of Ron's escape attempt during the trip to Huinrag, and the nearly successful one after entering the city. She spoke about the santari long period he spent in the torture chambers beneath the ground, where they did things to him she couldn't even imagine, and never wanted to. She finally explained about his time in the Retribution Games, and about his eventual successful escape.

"I've seen this man fight in the circuit!" Jorin told her, secretly wishing he didn't admire the fellow so much. "And I heard about that escape. It's been told so many times it's hard to imagine it's really true."

Then she told him about that terrible, awful night in Tabey.

"Now you know how I got those bruises on my neck."

Jorin was speechless. He could see where she was going and it was killing him.

"He doesn't deserve you!" Jorin told her, his eyes growing bloodshot and his stomach so tight he felt as if he'd been disemboweled.

"He deserves more than me," Cache replied softly. "I should have stood with him in that cove and died with him there, our fates fused as one.

"I know you love me, Jorin. I know that I could take you as my husband and I could make you a good wife. You are everything any woman would want in a mate...you are brave and good and wonderful...and you would make a fantastic father for my child."

She looked long into his tear-filled eyes...eyes which were full of the rejection he knew was coming...eyes that mirrored the excruciating wounds to his heart.

"But I could never truly give you what you want...me...all of me. I have already given that to him. You see, I would forever wish that you were him. When we made love, I would imagine it was with him," she concluded with fresh tears streaming down her cheeks and pouring on the floor. "I am so very sorry."

Jorin slowly rose to his feet and moved to the door.

"Jorin!" Cache called to him, her voice filled with sorrow.

He paused at the open flap, the new morning light burning through the mist and flooding in, and looked back at her.

"Please do not hate me!" she begged him, still on her knees. "Please! I could not stand it."

"I could never hate you, Cache," he said to her solemnly. "You see, as you love him...I love you."

Cache rushed to him then and through her arms around his neck, her tears dampening his uniform shirt. She held on to him for a long while and he savored that last embrace. Finally, he lowered her down to her feet and went to his men to make final preparations for his coming venture. She went back into the tent and wept for a long while.

### Chapter Fifteen

### Confession

Two hoz north of the town of Gardilane, three hundred fighters of the rebel army paused. They completely surrounded a large, open meadow where a group of forty-nine men had set up camp only billots before sundown on the previous evening. That band of men was the Praetorians...guardsmen of the wild country...mounted policemen who patrolled the district. Their duties were much as Criege's were supposed to be in the Yetsole Valley, but these men were supposedly not corrupt like that despicable Lampsh individual. They kept the peace without demand for repayment, exactly the way they were commissioned to do, and were known for their even-handed disposition of the laws.

The Praetorians had ridden swiftly all the previous day to position themselves well enough to venture an investigation on the following morning...into suspected illegal activity at a gladiator training facility that was just east of the town. There orders were specifically focused on finding three Kreete traitors who had escaped capture three santaris ago, and who might be utilizing that compound as a refuge. They were to report back any news to the Kreete commander now in charge...Reaper Treage Vitrauge.

The meadow lay awash in a low-lying cloud, obscuring much of the movements in the camp and causing great consternation to the five leaders who divided up the duties of the forthcoming battle...should the need for such action arise. As dawn passed and the Caronian star began boiling the moisture from the air though, it gave aid to the watching men, allowing a better interpretation to be made of the impending threat.

The fog was immobile down in that grassland, until a slight puff of air dived down from above the encircling trees and moved the cloud just enough to grant one of the spying men a glimpse of a brief scene.

At one of the centrally located tents...one that was designated as an officer's quarters...a man stepped through the entry flap, pulling up quickly to gaze back into that modest space. Words were spoken briefly and then a woman emerged, flinging her arms about the fellow and hugging him tightly. Their embrace lasted only a couple of litas before the woman released him and retreated into the dwelling, but it was long enough.

Up on a steep hill, overlooking the camp of the patrolmen, a large, broad-shouldered man pulled his glazed eyes clear of the binoculars he used and turned away from that sight pointedly. His stomach quickly churned to the degree that he thought he would lose his breakfast, and his heart felt heavy enough to have turned to stone.

He was positive now, and his long, frantic search for her was at an end. It was Cache Kuar. She was definitely not a prisoner of the patrolmen...and it couldn't be hidden that she was unquestionably pregnant. The battle could not go forward.

"Give the order to hold!" Ron Allison told his partner, Jarle Raidene. "Gather the other leaders quickly!"

Ron's orders swiftly spread throughout the ring of men that surrounded the encampment by way of a flag system Karne and Jarle had devised. Ron fell back to a designated point and awaited the group, his emotions leaping and falling...first elation, then sorrow, and then guilt, shame, and remorse.

"Ron?" Jarle asked, seeing the distraught expression on his face. "What is it?"

Ron just stared out at the forest, his mind running so fast he couldn't even separate one thought from the next. He'd finally found her, after so long...so long since... He could not even complete that thought. He was so cruel to her, the woman he'd trusted for so long...and fought so hard to reach...the woman he once tried to begin his life over again with.

Now she was lost to him. He drove her away with his rage, his uncontrollable fury, without giving her ten litas to explain...to tell him how she thought she was saving him on that fateful day, not condemning him.

"Ron? Guardian above me! Is that you?" were the last words he heard before he began...he gasped at the recollection of what he'd done...hurting her. His chest felt a tremendous weight pressing against it, and his stomach flipped and twisted until he was finally forced to lock his jaw against the urge to be sick.

"Ron? Are you all right?"

Ron turned to regard his friend, his eyes not focusing at all, his mind in a stupor. Ten Caronian santaris...the earthly equivalent of a year and a half...had passed since he had laid with her in the cove...his life so perfect, his heart so full of her and of their future together.

Now, it was plain to him that she took his act of revenge...of hate...as her cue to move on, and she did just that. A new man now filled her heart with joy and love...as well as her womb. It all fit suddenly. That fellow's scent must have been the one Ron had assumed was Roe's, back in Tabey.

He tried to be happy for her because he truly only wanted her to be content, but his regret for his heinous acts prevented him from focusing on the positive.

She'd spent so much time, and devoted so much of her energy to helping him while he was a captive...putting everything else on hold, no matter the importance...and he'd nearly killed her for it.

If he were really a 'Ronin', a true samurai warrior...with honor...he would have gutted himself for his crime...and he fingered his short sword absentmindedly as that thought crossed his mind. As it was though, he had somehow convinced himself that carrying on with her work was what she would have wanted, and that stayed his hand.

The rest of the leaders each came rushing up a few borts later and they all looked to Ron for his explanation.

"We cannot attack this group," Ron announced, much to the dismay of his allies.

"Why, Ronin?" they queried in unison.

"My one-time partner is there...the person who has the technology to fight the Kreete...is in that encampment."

There was a conjoined, "What?" from all who stood in the meeting.

"It is apparent that she is there willingly, and so I must assume they are not our enemy. However, we'll have to be ready to defend ourselves, or go into hiding, should I be mistaken and they choose to attack us."

"We do not understand," said one of the men, with several others nodding along with him. "Who is it...their leader?"

"The female doctor...who I thought was lost. The woman we have been combing the countryside in search of for santaris. She is the only person with the ability to activate the protective device we discussed. She cannot be harmed."

The group exchanged hurried questions and concerns. Each was taken aback by this new revelation because he had guarded this one secret from everyone except Roe and Josy.

"What are we to do then?" Jarle asked finally.

"Roelantish and I will go to the camp and speak with their commander."

"What? Are you mad?" asked several of the leaders.

Roe just looked at Ron and nodded his ascent. It was the only way.

After the long and detailed explanation Roe had given, Ron followed the typical tendencies of most male friends and forgave him for his untimely and ultimately costly decision so long ago. Their brutal duel had relieved the pent up anger Ron had felt, and the equally repressed shame Roelantish had lived with. Roe and he quickly returned to their old comradery while the search for Cache continued and after a santari it was like the entire ordeal was merely a faded memory.

"What if they turn you in...to their masters?"

"I doubt they'll get the chance for such a result as that," Ron replied with his face as serious as anyone there had ever seen. "I request that you all hold your positions and be ready for battle if it should come down to that, but you must also be ready to abandon this place and regroup at our secondary location, just in case.

"Jarle, go back to the facility and warn them to expect a full inspection of the grounds. Make sure they will find nothing but the usual equipment."

"Very well, Ronin," he replied and set off immediately.

"Good luck, men," Ron said to the small group before turning to Roe. "Let's go."

The two mountain men worked their way back to the horses at the far point of their assemblage, away from any chance that the beasts might be heard by the Praetorians. Roe climbed onto his steed immediately and whirled it around, ready to get this business moving.

"Wait a bort!" Ron told him. "They will not likely allow us in to see their commanding officer with any type of weapon."

"No, not likely," Roe acknowledged. "What do you have in mind?"

As an answer, Ron pulled one of his throwing knives free and gave himself a rather nasty-looking gash on his left calf, just below the knee. It was deep enough to allow a good amount of blood flow but not enough for any real danger. He then pulled a roll of cloth from his pack and wrapped his leg tightly with it, letting the blood thoroughly soak through first.

He then removed all his weapons, save one of the small knives...the one at the inside of his boot. Next, he took a long wrap of bandage material and wound that around the end of his sword's black scabbard, creating a fair sized ball of the stuff...making it appear to be a walking aid. The handgrip of the sword was exposed at the other end but he knew it would not fall free unless he grabbed it by that end, due to the locking feature of the advanced, custom-built device. The Raulden technology was amazing.

One last touch to his charade was to hide his face in another bit of cloth, also stained with fresh blood. With that all secured, he slapped on his large, floppy hat and leaped to the saddle of his own animal. He was ready.

They entered the range of the camp half a billot later, just as the policemen were riding out, so Ron and his accomplice pulled up and waited to be surrounded before speaking. They carefully held their free hand up with the other holding the reins of their horses.

The Praetorian patrolmen wore uniforms that designated their purpose and authority. It consisted of light brown cloth riding britches that had leather inner panels to provide good protection to the men who spent many billots in the saddle. Below that were high boots to ward off the taller brush they often navigated through, and above it shown light tan-colored shirts that were little more than vests. Such attire allowed some minor comfort in the hot climate while not leaving them totally open to the elements.

With his empty hand raised in a show of submission, Roe introduced himself. He then announced to the commander of the troops, Rasche Brindle, that he was an emissary of the owner of the training facility down the road. His commander had sent him out to arrange for a tour of the place for those who might wish to see it.

"My master has nothing to hide and we willingly accept your inspection of our facility," Roe added. "I have only one favor to ask of you before we go. My servant has had a nasty accident during a scuffle with a wild boar and I am afraid he has broken his jaw as well as badly gashed his leg. We heard you travel with a gifted healer and beg you to allow him to treat my man here."

Rasche returned the introductions and replied to Roe's appeal for help.

"Our doctor is a woman, but we can accommodate your request easily enough. Come with me. You men stand fast and be ready to depart at once. When the doctor is settled with this fellow, we shall continue on."

Jorin Graive, the second in command, led the group to Rasche's tent. He had both Roe and Ron searched for weapons, with great attention given to the ebony walking stick, before they escorted Ron to a chair and waited for Cache.

Ron's heart was beating so fast...but he couldn't understand it. He'd done battle with dozens of the most menacing and vicious men and creatures that one could ever encounter without being so keyed up as he was at that moment.

Roe was making his usual disarming small talk with Rasche as they waited. He was a talented conversationalist and extremely adept at charming one with his wit, be they man or woman. Ron just sat still and stared at the opening of the tent, his breath quick and shallow. His anticipation quickly rose so high that he feared he would go mad if she didn't step through the entry portal in the next moment...and even worse if she actually did.

Finally, after an eternity of heart-pounding preparation, he heard footsteps approaching. No one else in the room seemed to notice, but he could detect the crushing of the grass when she was fifty feet away...and his heart rate soared even higher.

Cache Kuar stepped into the tent a moment later and paused, allowing her eyesight to adjust to the dimmer environment. Ron was transfixed with her...her every movement was pure grace and she seemed to float through an otherworldly fog. She had kept to her native Caronian disguise and so was deeply tanned, causing her bright violet eyes to practically glow against her dark skin. Her coal-black hair had grown very long...nearly to the middle of her back...and she had it woven into a wide plait that shimmered like ebony glass strands, even in the limited sunlight of the foggy morning.

She didn't dress in the flashy attire Josy typically did, wearing a simple, beige, sleeveless blouse that was meant for someone much larger...to give her some room about the middle. A matching skirt which reached to the lower third of her toned thighs also appeared to be mostly for comfort...when she wasn't riding of course. She completed her garb with a pair of animal skin moccasins that wrapped her small feet delicately. She was a picture of motherly perfection to Ron's anxious eyes.

She glanced aside to meet the gaze of Jorin, and Ron instantly bristled, and then relaxed. He knew he could not be jealous...he had no right. He'd cast her aside and she had found another. It was as simple as that...but his gut knotted all the same.

Jorin smiled lightly at her and nodded toward Ron. She smiled back and went to work immediately, dropping to her knees at his feet to begin with the wound on his leg.

"I am going to have a look at this," she told him softly, gazing casually up into his shadowed face. Her care and touch were as light as a breath of air. "I will be as careful as I can."

The oversized brim of his hat nodded slightly, not wanting it to break the blink-less stare which had locked onto her face since she entered, but then she focused on his leg.

Ron absorbed everything about his one-time love. The sweet rocking of her stride due to her burgeoning cargo was entrancing. The drape of her clothing against her petite figure revealing her recently plumped breasts was delightful. Her firmly toned calves...all that could be viewed of her exquisite legs at the moment...were darkening from exposure to Caron's powerful sunlight, but as smooth as ever. Every strand of her dark coif seemed to be placed exactly so, to keep her cool and give her freedom of movement without any annoying encumbrances. And her feminine little hands that had once reached only for him, now carefully gained access to his disguised injury.

He also took note that Jorin had drifted over to where they were and kept his hand on the hilt of his sword.

She slipped Ron's boot off and lifted his pant leg up enough to get to his knee, and took note of the numerous signs of old wounds. Many cycles of riding through heavy brush, she imagined. She carefully bent and flexed the limb, checking it for any signs of joint or tendon damage.

"This is not too bad!" Cache proclaimed as she wiped the cut clean. "I will clean it with some medicine to stop infection, and then sew it up."

It had already stopped bleeding on its own so she shifted her attention to his face. A broken jaw could be excruciatingly painful and difficult to mend in this crude environment, having no tissue regenerator with which to work.

"But let me have a look at your jaw first."

She looked into his heavily shaded eyes again, they residing well under his wide-brimmed, floppy hat and behind the wrappings of cloth, and she saw them watering heavily.

"I am sorry if this is painful," she said soothingly as she took his trembling hand in hers.

Cache could feel his heart racing and looked at his chest. He was breathing very fast, so she assumed that he was in dire agony and feared more of the same was about to come when she tried to examine it.

"Please try to remain calm. I will be as gentle as I can."

Ron's heart was wrenching in two as he heard her beautiful voice and gazed into her diamond violet eyes.

"How could I have ever thought to harm her?" he screamed inside his mind.

She saw his salty drops drizzle down his cheeks to wet the bandage there, and she felt genuine pity for his discomfort. She looked down at his callused hand and patted it twice.

"It will be all rig..." she paused in the middle of her soothing statement.

Her eyes had drifted to the walking cane that leaned against his hip as he sat. It was jet black and seemed familiar to her. She scanned down the length of it and saw the roughened end...and then "she" began to tremble.

"Where did you get that?" she asked in a voice barely above a whisper...it vibrating to match the tremor in her fluttering heart.

Their gazes locked to one another instantly, his still hidden behind the disguise he wore but hers as clear as the daybreak.

"In a land far from here," he replied in an equally shallow tone. "From someone who was very dear to me...who once loved me...who I loved."

Cache's hands quivered badly now. She searched up into that dark shadow that was his face, trying to get a picture of who it was she addressed. Only the reflective orbs of his eyes could be seen though, and only partially. His stare was interminable as she caught it again, and her whole body shook. She reached up and pulled the bandage wrapping from Ron's tear streaked face and she fell back instantly, as if in shock.

Jorin saw her reaction and his own instincts leaped into action as he yanked his blade free of its scabbard...but he was too late. The dark blade of death was already on the move, still locked in its casing, and it smashed against his weapon with enough force to send it sailing from his hand and through the tent's siding material.

Jorin fell back a few steps to regain his balance as that blast both surprised and shocked him. He glanced quickly at his empty fingers that stung painfully from Ron's strike, and then at the man who'd performed that blazing feat. He'd never seen anyone move so quickly, nor strike so powerfully.

When he made his move forward again, to protect the fabulous little woman whom he adored, he was baffled into an utter daze at what he witnessed.

That large man who'd so swiftly and easily disarmed him with a single, blinding act dropped to his knees at the feet of his love, his head pressed down to within an inch of the ground. In his hands he held up the ebony cane he'd limped in with, as if offering it to her in a show of great humility. At that time though, Jorin could clearly see that it was no mere cane, but rather a strange, black sword. The hilt of the weapon was now slid free, exposing the hand guard and several inches of the razor-edged blade.

Nearly everyone in the tent froze where they were. Roe was as surprised as the rest of them and stood there with his mouth hanging open. The first to respond were two guards who stepped between Ron and Rasche for his protection, their blades naked and at the ready. Other than that, the occupants were all statues.

"I submit myself to you, Cache, for sentencing and punishment for my brutal attack on you back in Tabey."

Cache's shocked and clumsy recoil from Ron had placed her squarely on her butt...her legs askew to the sides and her arms bracing her from falling even further back.

"What?" she asked, after a moment, clearly as dumbfounded as the rest of the group.

Ron did not lift his head from his position of submission. "I won't beg for your forgiveness as I don't deserve such. I've died a thousand times since that night...and twice that since I learned the truth of what truly transpired on that ill-fated day at the waterfall cove. The guilt, remorse, and shame of that night in your apartment have weighed on me like a boulder, crushing me little by little until all I can feel is total humiliation and utter disgust for what I did. If I die here today, it will be a relief."

Cache was still trying to make sense of what he was saying. Did he not still blame her for betraying him to the Kreete? What was going on? She looked around the room quickly until she saw the figure of Roelantish standing off to the side. She'd totally overlooked him earlier. Then her mind began to click into gear.

"You know the truth?"

"I do."

She stared at the top of Ron's still covered head and her peripheral vision noticed something totally unexpected...a darkened patch of earth beneath his hanging face. She saw drips flash down and add to that spot...tears of repentance, of regret, of the tremendous disgrace he carried with him like a leaden cloak.

"I give you my life...here...now. Take it if you will, for it matters not to me anymore. I am not a man."

Those in the tent remained as still as stone, his words so poignant that they could only listen.

"Ron...no...no. Do not...speak...like that," she told him as she gathered her feet under her once more, returning to her kneeling position...her voice choked and broken.

"I convinced myself that the Kreete had ripped my conscience free of me in the dark underground hell of Huinrag, but that is too convenient an excuse. They used the fact that we were intimate to turn my thoughts of you against me...but it was I who allowed myself to twist our experiences, our memories, our love, into a vile potion of revenge. I drank it down too, thinking that by keeping my focus on that one thought it would pull me through what they did to me. My plan worked all too well though, Cache. I came out of Gratoon a vile and lowly beast with nothing left inside me but hatred.

"That night in Tabey, I...I..." the words jammed in his throat like a physical blow, "hunted you down like a wild animal's prey, and meant to take your life. You, Cache...the one person in my existence who knew my true nature, my true feelings, my true self, and who had captured my heart so completely...I intended to execute you."

She knew he was speaking the pure, untarnished truth. She'd seen it in his eyes that night when his fury had nearly consumed him utterly...nearly. There was a long pause before;

"But you did not, did you?" she said softly to him.

To Ron and Cache, the world around them was of no consequence. They were the only two souls on the planet as he let his confession pour from his deepest vault of secrets. The rest of the assemblage stood by breathless, all of them too intrigued by then to make a move, either in defense or attack.

"You did not because you could not," Cache continued. "I saw it in your eyes that night when you withdrew your sword. You were so filled with anger and hurt and heartache that you thought you could do it, but you could not. You could not because you are not a murderer. You are not an animal. You are not vindictive. You could not do it because you still loved me."

There was another long pause then, as more salty droplets struck the dirt floor, both from Ron and now from Cache as well. The black sword began to shake for a moment, still held out in his open hands, his head still lowered.

"Your inconceivable compassion gives me too much credit. My actions condemn me!" he said more forcefully...angrily.

"I disagree," she told him with equal fervor, now moving toward him, accepting and stowing his weapon, and laying it at her side carefully, reverently.

Cache then placed her small hands under his oversized hat and gently urged his head upward to look at her. Her own face was alighted with a smile that was brighter than the Caronian star.

"I am so sorry, Cache."

"It is I who must beg your forgiveness," she said to him then, her face only inches from his now, their knees touching. "I should have stood with you against the Hellions that day. At least we would have died together, our love pure and untainted. But I knew you would not let them come near me until your life was gone...and I could not bear to watch you perish. I thought we could somehow..."

Ron reached up and placed his hand on her exquisite cheek, moistened now with salty rivulets.

She stopped her explanation the instant his rough, callused skin touched her, a charge of unquestionable exhilaration suddenly flowing through her body like a sharp spring breeze. Their eyes locked onto one another and they stared for a while, each reading the other's thoughts silently. Soon, the mournful darkness in the depth of Ron's gaze lifted, unable to remain in the shining light of her joy-filled grin.

"Don't think of it again," he told her. "Don't allow that recollection to cloud your smile ever again. It is too magnificent...too inspiring...too perfect."

Cache pushed back the floppy hat that shrouded Ron's face and saw that he too was smiling now...that rugged, enticing, fabulous smile that sent her heart racing and her emotions swooning.

"Your face!" she exclaimed suddenly. "Your face is so much better!"

She ripped the large fedora from him and ran her fingers through his thick black hair. It had grown back quite well since he last saw her. She turned his face one way and then the other, scanning him thoroughly.

"They are fading away! The scars are disappearing!"

Ron grinned back at her.

"A rather gifted team of doctors once told me that my body would not allow scar tissue to linger...that it would absorb it and replace it with fresh cells...just like new. It appears I will eventually recover completely...in time."

Cache squealed with joy and leaped to him with a huge hug, her arms locked around his neck in a death grip of excitement. Ron pressed her to him in a returning embrace and reveled in the ecstasy of her happiness.

"It will all be behind us one day will it not?" she asked in his ear.

He paused a moment to take a deep, cleansing breath. "It already is," he returned.

After a bit, he couldn't help but notice the bulging protrusion of her belly as its occupant decided it was time to join the celebration and gave several firm jolts.

"Oh!" Cache cried out, not from pain this time, but rather from surprise.

Ron pressed her back to her knees before him and followed her eyes to that point of concern.

"I guess con...gratulations are...in order," he tried to say without it sticking in his throat, but failed.

Cache beamed back at him. Her mother's glow was radiating like a supernova.

"Yes, I suppose they are!" she replied.

That blow of reality whipped him back to the present, where Ron noticed once again that they knelt surrounded by men...most of them strangers to him.

"You and your husband must be very happy...very proud."

"What?" she asked in bewilderment.

He then popped to his feet and faced the man he'd seen her embrace that morning, outside their tent. Ron bowed deeply.

"Congratulations! I am Ron Allison, and you are probably the luckiest man on the planet."

Jorin felt lower than he ever had in his life, a mixture of anger, embarrassment, heartache, and loss. But also, he knew enough about Ron to be honored in the presence of such a fantastic, almost mythical warrior. The scars on Ron's face made it clear that he had survived the interrogation cell of the Lords...reaffirming Cache's claim that he was indeed the mighty Shartae.

"No," Jorin replied slowly. "To my deepest regret, that honor falls to you."

Ron turned back to Cache, completely dumbfounded.

"Was this fellow so insecure as to be totally demoralized...his manhood completely squelched by being caught off guard?" Ron thought. "Surely, Cache would see no weakness in that...or was there something else he was alluding to?"

The rest of the group who filled the tent then began returning to thoughts of their previous agenda and the clink of metal from a shifting soldier caught Ron's attention. He was still in the meeting, surrounded by strangers...unsure of their intentions...and so his situation brought his warrior's senses back online.

"Wait a bort," Cache suddenly uttered as a conclusion struck her. "What made you think that Jorin and I..."

"Cache!" Rasche urged, cutting off her query in a stern and authoritative manner. "Who are these men?"

Several more soldiers entered the tent just then, one with Jorin's sword in hand, and they pulled their blades as one, standing ready with shields as well. They all knew Cache by that time and trusted her completely, but the foreigners drew deep concerns from them.

Jorin accepted his weapon and didn't sheath it...his demeanor sharp and severe. Cache saw the rising tension of the assemblage and stepped back from Ron, holding her hands up for calm.

"Rasche...Jorin! Please pause for a moment. These two men are the finest and bravest patriots I have met outside this tent," she said unequivocally. "I would trust them with my life, as I do now without hesitation, and with no knowledge as to what their intent is on this visit," she added, gazing up at Ron with obvious adoration.

"May we speak in private for a short while, Commander Rasche?" Ron requested.

Rasche looked to Jorin...then to Cache.

"He managed to slip a weapon past my guards," Jorin acknowledged. "I don't feel confident that he has no others."

"My blade lies at the feet of your doctor. I will not retrieve it until you give me leave to do so."

Cache waved her hand with indifference. "Commander...Jorin...I must confess that I know these two men very well, and if they wished to do harm, you would already be dead...no matter the guards. And please believe me that my assessment is no reflection of incompetence toward your men."

Jorin bristled a bit at that but then he immediately recalled just who Cache's confessed lover was...and he settled down. From what he'd seen Ron do in the arena, he clearly understood how accurate her assessment was.

The commander gave his men a wave that began emptying the tent, leaving only Roe, Ron and himself unmoving.

"Please, sir, would you allow Cache to remain?" Ron requested. "And Jorin as well."

Ron pulled the little woman close to him and whispered, "Can they be trusted?"

Cache looked up at him with noticeable puzzlement. "Was it not obvious that she trusted them?" she thought.

"With our mission," he specified, drawing an understanding "light-bulb" moment from her.

"Yes, I think so."

When they were alone...and the guards were at least fifty paces from the tent...Ron began.

"We know that you have been ordered to pay our training camp a visit. I will be happy to comply and would like your cooperation in return."

"Really?" Rasche asked with a hint of sarcasm. "And why is that?"

Ron took a deep breath and said, "Because we are recruiting an army there, to fight the Kreete and drive them from Caron."

Both Rasche and Jorin would have made perfect wax figures as they sat there as still as stone...thinking...no..."knowing" they'd just misunderstood what Ron had said.

"You have?" Cache piped in, astounded at his announcement. "You really have begun? How far along are your plans?"

Ron held up his finger to give pause to his answer, letting his focus drift to his hosts.

"If you wish no part of our plans, we would hope that this meeting will be forgotten and you may go on your way. I have had excellent reports of your troops, Rasche, and admire your work. The people of this territory owe you a great debt for keeping things stable and relatively secure."

"You are recruiting an army?" Rasche repeated.

Ron nodded.

"To fight the Lords?" Jorin added.

Ron nodded again. Roe just smiled at their reactions. Cache held her breath.

"Are you mad?" Rasche suggested with all seriousness.

"I think not," Ron replied. "Cache, how is our little surprise coming along?"

She hadn't taken a moment in a very long time to think about the mission that initially brought her to Caron, and now her mind fumbled for the information. "I have no way to know, and I have completely lost track. My chrono was lost when I was taken prisoner in Mardesh."

"We need to find a way to check after this meeting," he told her before turning to Rasche, "We have devised a plan to begin a war against the Kreete which we feel we have a fair chance at winning. We could use your help, either physically, or with your vow of silence about our plans. Time is growing short until the 'Lords' find out about us and try to initiate a first strike...to eliminate us before we're a real threat."

"A threat?" Jorin asked in a biting tone. "How can we be a threat to them? They have machines that fly...that carry their troops across the territory in borts, not weeks...that allow them to speak to others of their kind as if by magic. By the time it took us to fight one battle, they would have ten thousand troops delivered to crush us. They can destroy a city in a few litas, or incinerate a person into vapor. Their men are incredibly powerful, their armor is heavy, and their training in battle is beyond excellent. We can't hope to fight such beings."

"What if their communications were eliminated?" Roe asked.

"What if their ships could be crippled into only transports that did not know where to go?" Cache asked, piping in as if she and Ron's mission had never been stalled.

"What if we had weapons that would breach their armor and reduce them to merely enemies, instead of gods."

"How could this be done?" Rasche inquired...still not convinced that these men weren't insane.

"That must remain a secret for now...but what if it could be done? Would you fight? Would you fight for a free future of Caron?"

"Cache?" Rasche queried. "Do you know of this plot?"

"Yes sir. In fact...it is my plan!"

The expressions on the faces in the group were beyond priceless. They may as well have been painted marble figurines.

"I give you my solemn word that everything that has been suggested can be done," she added confidently. "The Kreete are not the only ones with unfathomable devices...and they are not the most advanced either. We just need time for our plans to mature, and support when they do!"

It was obvious now to the patrolmen that this petite lady was a great deal more important than merely the gifted physician they'd grown accustomed to and fond of. They had heard the rumors of such a movement, but had always dismissed them as pure folly...an impossible dream concocted by hopeful idealists, with no merit as to its plausibility whatsoever. But now...

"Give us a moment, please," Rasche requested.

Ron got to his feet and moved to the furthest corner of the tent with Cache in tow and Roelantish right behind her.

"That is a lot for them to take in, Ron," Cache admitted.

"I know, but we need all the help we can manage. It won't be long."

Cache and Roe took the free moments to mend a few frazzled nerves between them and were hugging before long.

"How did you know I was here?" she asked the pair.

"Well, to be quite honest, we've had scouts watching this patrol for a few days, and when I received word that they had a beautiful murge-eyed doctor with them, I had to investigate that for myself. I saw you just this morning, still in your nightwear, embracing Jorin. It was apparent that you two were more than just 'friends', and with this little sign of intimacy straining against your attire, I took the chance that you were at the very least 'comfortable' with them, and therefore trusted them, so we decided to approach."

"I see."

Cache suddenly understood why Ron had insinuated she and Jorin were coupled, and wanted to explain her rather unique arrangement with the Praetorian commander, but had no time to contemplate that because Rasche and Jorin were approaching.

"We have reached a decision," Rasche announced slowly, it obviously weighing heavily on his mind. "In this territory we have lived in veritable peace along with the Kreete for many cycles now, due, I suspect, to the uncommonly forthright leader they placed to govern our lands. I've served under our Kreete Lord, Karne Gitove for all of twelve cycles, and have met him many times. He is just, and fair, and a strong leader...although quite harsh to those who decide not to lead lawful lives."

Ron could see where this was headed and checked all of his choices for extricating himself, Roe, and Cache from the camp...without killing anyone.

"Karne was a good commander, a good warrior, and fair-minded, and I will mourn his death, but I have been to other places as well," Rasche continued, making Ron's ears perk up, as did Roe's. "I have seen the misery, cruelty, corruption, and malice of the typical Kreete ruler. I was content to do what I could in my little corner of the world, but now, with the news that Karne has been slain, and with the new directives of our recently appointed governor, Treage Vitrauge..."

Ron's blood began to heat up with the mere mention of that name.

"I am of a mind to join your army! We will fight! We will support you in this war, and return our home to the rule of Caronians!"

The rebel trio then exchanged relieved smiles at that bit of wonderful news.

Jorin flipped the ebony blade to Ron with his free hand, and tried to hide his feeling of inadequacy in Cache's presence.

"Now, please tell me about your plans," Rasche urged.

"Cache, would you like to explain our...what the..." Ron said as the sight of a certain pendant hanging from Rasche's neck caught his eye. His expression changed at that moment to one of intense, stern thought...and the change in him instantly grabbed the attention of the four others. They stared unblinkingly at his face while his eyes danced side-to-side swiftly...searching his memory with near frenzied concentration. As the litas drifted by, the group felt a shift in the air...like a growing sense of dread.

"I have seen that before, somewhere back in my...when I was given missions to..."

He couldn't quite pull up the information. His hands went to his temples and he pressed hard.

"Ron!" Cache asked with a rising fear in her voice. "Ron! What is it? What is wrong?"

His head sprang up then...his eyes wide and full of apprehension. "Oh no!" he said in a husky release of air...his vision glazed over.

"OH NO!" he repeated as his hand shot forward and snatched the medallion from Rasche's wardrobe.

Jorin lurched forward at his action, but Ron's next move held him back.

"Give me your dagger!" Ron ordered to Jorin hastily, his hand held out as if it were only natural that the man would do as he bid without hesitation.

Jorin didn't disappoint him either, slipping the blade free smoothly and passing it to Ron.

Ron dropped to his knees again and grabbed a resting shield, laying it flat on the hard turf. He then placed the medallion on one of the steel straps that made up the exterior of the shield and smashed it with the butt of the heavy dagger. The ornamental insignia appeared to be solid metal, a seven faceted depiction of the Kreete's code of honor, but when he struck it the third time, the object burst open and revealed that it was filled with electronic circuitry.

"Shit!"

Ron tossed that to Cache and then slammed Jorin's dagger into the ground to the hilt, his body flying out prone at the same instant. Ron then pressed his ear down firmly against the dagger's handle.

"No one move!" he ordered at the gawking men.

"Oh no!" Cache repeated Ron's dread-filled expression in a hushed whisper as she stared at the pendant. "How long have you had this?"

"Treage had them sent out to all his newly acquired squads," Jorin responded softly but urgently. "A santari ago, I guess."

"Then they heard every word we have said since then!" she told them. "This is a listening device for spying on his troops!"

"Quiet!" Ron ordered.

Five litas later..."SHIT!" Ron shouted as he leaped to his feet again, yanking the dagger free and holding it out for Jorin to retrieve while turning to Cache. "Cache, go and get your possessions, your weapons, and whatever else is vital to you! Do it NOW!"

She didn't even blink before dashing off to obey his command.

"Roe! Get out there and signal the men to make ready! Clear the way to the north and have those men regroup to the east and west! MOVE!"

Roe knew Ron well enough by then that he didn't need a reason to follow his orders. He was gone in a flash.

"Rasche! Jorin! Collect your men and make ready for battle. We are under attack! The Kreete are here!

### Chapter Sixteen

### To War

Ron immediately took control of the camp with Rasche and Jorin at his side to relay his orders and position their men. Every healthy person was set into motion at every tent, and the mounted troops were called back to inform them of the situation. They all gathered in front of their leaders' quarters a few borts later, some not even dressed properly in the still early hour...those having been on guard duty during the night and were trying to rest, or on cleanup duty around the camp.

"Men!" Rasche called them to attention with his deep, steady voice.

The assemblage knew something grave was happening and not a word was spoken...all senses straining to read their commander's words and tones.

"We are about to be at war with the Kreete...most likely the Cangerie Wolfpack Strike Team!"

The group of fifty soldiers stood stunned and silent from the shock of that single, simple statement. The Cangerie were reputed to be the Kreete's eradication squad...those who move in and eliminate any opposition to their master's rule...totally.

"Due to circumstances beyond my control...and a decision I recently made...I have unknowingly placed you all at the center of a coming battle which is now unavoidable. I did this without allowing you the opportunity to decide whether or not you would accept such a resolution, so I offer that decision to you now.

"You men have all sworn allegiance to me and, in turn, to the Kreete through me. If you withdraw immediately, we will grant you leave and allow you to do whatever you can to protect your families from the Kreete's wrath. I will not order you into this battle."

"Sir!" piped up one of the horsemen. "Why would the Lords attack us? We have done nothing to warrant such and act."

Rasche swept his arm out to display Ron and Roelantish who were then crouched down off to the side, thirty feet away, whispering plans hurriedly to each other and drawing diagrams in the dirt.

"These men have contacted us with a bold and nearly unbelievable plan to fight the Kreete, to drive them from our world forever...a plan I was made aware of only a few borts ago. They've been assembling an army and building weapons to fight...and I believe we actually may have a slight chance at making it work.

"Their plans have been underway for quite a while now in secret, but without my knowledge the Lords were using their magic to listen in during our discussion. Now these men feel certain the Kreete have come to destroy us because I have shown interest in collaborating with them."

The men were beginning to get the message by then. Their leader had been caught plotting against the Lords, and now they would feel the full fury of the Kreete. Why would he do such an insane thing? What possible chance could they have against the Lords, with their size, their strength, their weapons, and their flying machines? No one made a move, but they all felt a tingle of fear surge through them, fear for their own hopes of a future...their homes, lands, and families.

Ron and Roe finished with their little sidebar and approached the men at that point.

"These men will lead us into battle today!" Rasche announced, drawing the attention of his troops once more.

They each turned slightly, confused by their leaders last statement, and looked at the two men...strangers to them all. Why would Rasche, a well-known and established leader, relent his command to these two unknowns?

"If you wish to withdraw," Ron announced with no pause or disdain, having no time for such trivialities, "do it now, for in the next few borts we will all be blade to blade with the Kreete and such hesitation will only get you killed!"

The men shifted their weight nervously and their eyes glanced about at their comrades, wondering if they should take the safest way out and abandon this ridiculous and futile attempt at social freedom.

"Wait a bort!" shouted one of the men closest to the front. "You!" the fellow said with a look of utter disbelief...of awe...of reverence...on his face, pointing at Ron. "You're the one! The one from the arena...the one they call Shartae!"

A fast ripple then coursed up and down the ranks of the patrolmen. Every soldier in the company was familiar with that renowned fighter, and some had even seen him in action.

The speaking horseman then stepped forward, turning to face his fellows. "He is the madman from the Retribution games! He is 'Shartae the Invincible'! He is Ronin Alsone of Erthania...reborn!"

The entire group of souls then stared fixedly at Ron as if he were the Guardian himself materialized into human form right in front of them. Even Rasche was surprised. Jorin, of course had been made aware of just who he was, yet he too gazed at the demigod with open admiration.

The trooper then turned back to Ron and dropped to one knee, lowering his head in veneration. He pulled his sword free and set it tip down in front of him. "My sword is yours Ronin! I am with you to the gates of Pigonta!"

Ron took a step closer then, no longer needing to conceal himself, and tossed his cloak away in a sweeping movement. He then stood before the soldiers, clad only in the weapons harness and his short pants and boots. It was clearly evident to all that he had, at one time, been under the Lords control.

The entire band of troops copied that first man's gesture in a fast wave of flashing steel. It made Ron proud...and impressed him very much.

"Thank you, troopers! I know of your record of service, and I'm honored to fight alongside the Praetorians!"

Then he turned to their leaders.

"Take your men and split them in two," he told Rasche. "One group to either side of the camp. Conceal them in the forest until we need them. They will find our men there waiting, and 'they' will know when it is best to join the fight...they will call the charge. Hurry now...go!"

The horsemen each saluted with an open hand across their chests, and then dashed to their mounts. Every soldier leaped to their saddle, riddled with elation for having met the famous, and infamous, Shartae, while at the same time racked with uncertainty about what they were now involved with. If he were truly Ronin, they would know soon enough. Ronin Alsone could not be defeated in battle...to matter the odds!

"Roe," Ron said to his large friend, "it is now time for you to choose. If you stand with me, the outcome may very well be grim. No doubt Treage has indeed sent that elite strike force, the Wolfpack, to eliminate us. Go now and you can still live to build your army."

Roelantish of the Chavarre just grinned.

"This is the first confrontation with the 'Lords' in sixty seven cycles...at least on this side of the great mountains. You think I would miss that?"

Every single person in the camp took cover except Ron and Roe. The leaders of the guardsmen were with their men, the keepers of the camp were all evacuated to the safety of the southernwoods, and Cache was long gone.

Ron could hear the Kreete approaching as their armor clanged and creaked. They were close...maybe a hundred peors into the trees. He stood calmly, the light morning breeze beginning to pick up...clearing away a portion of the fog and carrying the sounds of their movements clearly. He and Roe now held swords and shields that Rasche had loaned them, their own weapons being too far off to have the time to collect. Ron took a bit of solace in the fact that the ebony blade was in his hand though, like an old friend.

Suddenly a new clamor reached them from behind...it was the pounding thud of horse hooves at full gallop. They both spun about with the gleaming, highly polished steel-banded shields at the ready, only to see Cache Kuar riding low in the saddle of a wild-eyed animal that was stretched out in a stride that bespoke its haste. Ron glanced back to the north. Movement was now visible in the trees. They were within bow range.

"I told you to get to the training camp!" Ron shouted at the petite beauty as she pulled up abruptly beside him, her horse excited and dancing about.

She tossed a bundle to the ground abruptly. "I thought you two might want these, 'Shartae'!"

Ron caught sight of the bundle and grinned. "Thanks! We do! Now, get!" he ordered her as he smacked the horse on the flank. "Hyah!"

"I shall see you soon!" Cache called back at Ron as he stooped to reload his knives into their compartments.

Roe watched her go and then turned to Ron as he finished restoring his arsenal...his bow and quiver and scabbard now secured to his body's harness once more. Roe's own swords, knives, and shield were in position as well.

"You would think she just sent you to the market the way she bid you goodbye." Roe said to his friend. "It is a foregone conclusion to her that you will walk away from this clash, alive and kicking!"

"We'll see," was all Ron said, his thoughts then returning to the grave business in the woods.

They held their bows with arrows knocked before they each put an extra shield at their feet and waited. The leader of the attacking force stepped into the field and surveyed the campground while twenty Kreete archers fanned out down the ranks.

"Surrender to your masters!" ordered the leader. "I am Muorshon Warge, Master Killer of the Kreete Triad, and leader of the Cangerie Wolfpack! I demand that you disarm yourselves and call in your men!"

"Bite me!" Ron shouted back at him. "I challenge you for the right to this land...that is if you're brave enough to warrant such a duel. Or are you a coward like your ally...Mochor Harthen when he commanded the failed attack on the home of a peaceful farmer?"

Muorshon bristled visibly, but held his temper. "Archers!"

Ron and his partner waited as if bored, inwardly vibrating from the rush of adrenaline.

"Fire!" ordered the Kreete.

The two men dropped in a blink and pulled up the wide shields, doubling them for extra stopping power. "Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk..." they heard as almost two-dozen arrows collided with the heavy wooden and leather layered protective devices, smashing against their straining arms with the force of the combined energies of those missiles. Several of the arrowheads stuck through that safety barrier but didn't have the velocity to harm the men.

Roe and Ron smiled at each other, crouched tightly together and hoping for the best. Ron shrugged, "So far, so good."

They both popped up from their hideaway with their bows at full draw and promptly returned fire. Roe's longbow strummed a deep chord, in harmony with the shorter weapon of Ron's, and two of the scouts fell to their knees with arrows penetrating their necks. That was the only vulnerable killing spot in the armor of the warriors...at least for normal Caronian weapons.

Muorshon watched his men clutch at the arrows, snapping them off before falling to the ground...dying right in front of his face. His anger increased ten-fold. Then, after a lightning fast second round of incoming arrows reached them, the scout to his left straightened stiffly and looked to his chest. Black fletching was all that showed there...his 'superior' armor having been breached. That warrior slowly turned to his leader...the look of utter amazement filling his expression. That's when the leader of the Wolfpack realized his folly. They carried no shields because their armor was impenetrable...or so they'd thought.

"Fire!" Muorshon ordered again, sending Ron and Roe back into hiding as another wave of arrows rained down at them. "Attack!" came the next sound from his lips and eleven of his frontline troops tore out across the open ground at the two individuals behind the shields. The remainder of his force stood fast, waiting for the two fools' allies to show themselves.

The men managed two more rounds of retaliatory fire into the charging Kreete before they tossed their bows clear and drew their blades, readied for the onslaught. There were only nine scouts that reached Ron and Roe, and two of them were hampered by arrows imbedded deeply into their flesh. Ron kicked the shields at the Kreete with enough force to trip up three of them...and then it was blade-to-blade warfare.

Ron stood back to back with Roe and growled and snarled as he threw up a gnashing, mincing, barrier of steel about him, his duel weapons sweeping, arcing, and jutting...always on the move. They'd both been well trained by Karne's sons, and therefore knew the tactics of their enemies intimately.

Roe was controlled and powerful, and didn't give an inch of ground. He used his Foracian body to its fullest, matching Ron's ferocity...the two of them creating a dome of slicing fury that the Kreete simply could not invade.

They were quickly surrounded, but that actually aided the men, as the scouts couldn't move freely enough. Limbs were lost, as well as lives, and when half the attacking scouts were dead or down, Muorshon ordered a halt and brief retreat.

The two men glistened from sweat...the strain of the fight evident on them as was the gore from those they'd slain. They lowered their swords, allowing their arms a few moments of rest as the Kreete regrouped.

The enemy commander searched the forest's edge for any sign of the Praetorians, but saw none. His training should have made him wary, but he knew that fifty men were nothing to worry about for forty Kreete. These two in front of him showed some skills, but he knew that was not the norm. Also, he surmised that these fighters were more than likely ordered to delay his troops as long as possible, so the main group of horsemen could flee.

He decided to put an end to this game and blew a whistle that sent the remainder of his "elite" troops breaking into a jog toward the pair who now openly defied the Kreete's supremacy. Ten of them had heavy spears that no shield could stop!

Ron saw their move and sucked in a huge breath of air before expelling it out in a long, piercing cry that carried downwind all the way to the training camp where Cache was just dismounting from her horse. She stopped and looked back to the north, her heart racing as fast as that of her winded beast.

At the report of that unmistakable call...the challenge of the Aredanz Mountain folk...soldiers who'd been lying in wait, watching the battle with open amazement and esteem, leaped into immediate action. Thirty iron arrows, four feet in length, sped from the heavy crossbow cannons that were camouflaged at the edge of the forest.

As the larger group of the Wolfpack joined with the still living first wave, they roared out their own raucous bellows too, just like most warrior groups of old were prone to do. The ominous sounds of their roars were no doubt meant to bolster their own inner fires enough to sweep away the fact that the two men in front of them had just destroyed eight of their comrades. But what they didn't realize was that their cheers and roars drowned out the sounds of the retaliatory attack already mid-flight...aimed right for them.

The long, half-inch thick, metal arrows were launched from huge, heavy bows that had been specially designed to kill massive grazing beasts on the open plains from safe distances. Those incoming missiles slammed into the large number of Kreete with astonishing results. Designed to resemble miniature spears, they ripped through the scouts' armor with ease, and in a couple of instances, skewered two soldiers at a time.

The troops were taken completely by surprise and didn't even understand that they were under fire until the second flight tore into their numbers. They then turned to their leader for orders but found him face down in his own blood pool. A quick check to find the next in command caused more of them to drop before the word was spread to retreat to the forest. They needed to get back to the ship and call for reinforcements, but before they had a chance for escape, a new sound entered the battle...the rumbling of horses' hooves.

The cavalry poured into the clearing and quickly cut off any chance for escape back the way they'd come, so the scouts stood their ground and wielded the few spears they had left. Three horses and two men went down at the end of those horrible weapons, but then the long lances of the mounted men destroyed a full third of their remaining soldiers. Even the massive Kreete couldn't stand against a galloping steed!

Ron and Roe then took the offensive and attacked, followed closely by dozens of their men from the wooded fringes. The Kreete were quickly surrounded and confused.

"How could we have been beaten?" swirled about in their heads as they searched for a way out of the ambush.

They didn't last long. Soon, there were only a few stragglers remaining from the original forty-nine scout complement of the dreaded Wolfpack. They managed to break through the attacking lines and made it to the forest, desperately trying to return to their shuttle...to warn their superiors of their failure, and of the threat.

Ron and Roe split up and gave chase, snatching up additional weapons as they ran. Two of the retreating Kreete fell to arrows shot from their own allies' crossbows in the hands of those pursuers, and the third was forced to meet Roelantish's blade. He put up a valiant fight, but was overwhelmed with the woodsman's superior talents.

Ron rejoined his friend with a grin and they continued along in the same direction the Kreete scouts had been heading...to investigate their mode of transport.

They were greatly relieved to find only a single shuttle in an open area only half a hoz away. The ship was running and guarded by two scouts, one at the rear and one at the front...plus the pilot.

Ron and Roe fell back to remain undetected, and met half a dozen of their own troops following their famous idol.

"Go and find our best shot with the big bows and bring him and his weapon up here now!" Ron ordered of two of the men.

"Yes, Ronin!" they replied quickly before running back to the skirmish field.

Roe stayed as sentry of the enemy ship while Ron collected the other troops and reassigned them.

"Go back and organize the cleanup of the battlefield," Ron told one individual. "Divide up the weapons and armor for any future use we might have, get the wounded to Gardilane, and keep everyone else back at the clearing. We will be along shortly."

By then Ron could make out the sounds of more approaching men and knew who they were. Three of them were pushing one of the heavy carts with a powerful, steel-arrow-firing-bow mounted to it. They were having a difficult time of moving it in the woods, even with the operator of the device out front towing it with a heavy rope attached to that end. When they reached Ron, they all dropped to their knees, sweat pouring off them in rivers.

"You men wait here and rest,' he instructed the pushers, "then head back and rejoin the main camp. I'll take it from here."

The three exhausted soldiers looked at each other and then at Ron. "Ronin, it takes three men to transport the weapon. We're ready to do your bidding. We're not that tired."

Ron smiled as he positioned himself where a horse would normally be hitched to the cart. He puffed only once and was moving quickly through the underbrush as if towing a bicycle. "Follow me!" he ordered to the operator of the device.

Ron soon had the large bow in position and the shooter began readying the wench that would be needed to draw back the immense tension on the metal arms. The cord was braided intestines from a yatsar (a large pig-like creature that roots through the topsoil for grubs, worms and the like). It was the strongest known material for such use.

"We don't have time for that," Ron told the marksman, nudging him aside and grabbing the cord with both hands while placing his foot firmly against the bow's mounting.

"Ronin, you can't..."

His words of caution died in his throat as Ron flexed his immense strength and the device was cocked a moment later. Ron then pressed the bowman to hurry along while he readied an arrow in his own bow.

"I need you to head shot the pilot. If he gets out a warning to his superiors about this, we'll all be in great danger. Roe and I will take out the guards."

"Yes, sir," the man agreed, extremely worried that he would disappoint this awesome warrior.

"Ready? Fire!"

The deep, powerful recoil of the heavy weapon drowned out that of the smaller ones. That steel spear, due to its mass and momentum, cut through the side glass of the cockpit and slammed into the pilot with enough force to penetrate his left shoulder and exit his right, destroying everything in between. He was thrown violently to his right and would have been torn from his seat had it not been for his restraints.

The Kreete flyer was dazed and surprised until he looked down and saw what had happened, just as the fire of the damage began to register in his brain. He tried to reach the emergency signal, but his arms would not respond. He tried to speak, but blood was filling his lungs, so all he could do was cough and spit. A moment later, he heard someone enter the cockpit. He turned his head as a large man with darkly tanned skin and gray eyes...with a flaming red scar from his forehead, across one eye and down to his chin, leaned in with a stare as cold as the kiss of death...and then he felt nothing at all.

"Get everyone on board!" Ron ordered to Roe as the woodsman slipped into the flight deck to stand at his shoulder.

Roe disappeared again and Ron quickly scanned the instruments in order to check the last communication. It was from twenty borts earlier. No alert had escaped...they'd been successful.

Ron slapped the release button on the pilot's restraints and hauled the massive creature from his chair, abruptly tossing him into the main section of the ship. He then relieved the dead pilot of his canteen and rinsed off the fellow's blood from the instruments and seat before taking his place at the controls. While he worked, he kept hoping that Kaskle's memories would surface to lend him assistance...and then he felt deeply relieved when he gripped the controls and they felt as comfortable as any car would.

For the next few borts, he let his mind relax and his intuition guide his thoughts about what each of the controls were for, silently thanking Kaskle once again for stepping in to save him from beyond the grave.

While Ron got acclimated, there was much clattering and many vocal opinions about riding in the 'Lords' vessel echoing through the large, empty troop hauler. The rebel soldiers eventually gave in though and reluctantly obeyed their commanders. But as soon as all the men who'd moved up with Roe and Ron were aboard, with the heavy crossbow too, the cargo area became instantly quiet. The reason for their silence was that they all took a deep breath as the ship lifted off smoothly and swung around to the south.

Ron was barely in the air long enough to feel the rush of flight again before he was setting the ship down amid the horrified stares and panicked actions of those left behind at the battlefield.

Dozens of men ran for the cover of the forest's perimeter before halting at the raucous sounds behind them. Their fellow warriors were leaping from the open hatch of the transport, laughing and grinning from ear to ear at the tremendous feeling of their first jaunt in a flying machine.

"What do we do with the ship?" Roe asked from the co-pilot's seat, seemingly unimpressed with the ride...as if it were an everyday occurrence for him.

Ron's mind went into light-speed at the multitude of possibilities he could envision for the craft. He could zip back and forth to Crogan's encampment to coordinate their attacks, or shuttle troops swiftly to new...and safe...proximities after secret strikes. They could carry wounded men from the death-fields that were sure to develop when this war got fully underway...and the list just grew. But the technologically and militarily adroit part of his conscious mind also knew the limits to what he could get away with concerning such a device. Even though he'd already disabled the emergency locator in the craft, the enemy would still be able to track it by radar, or thermal imaging from other aircraft or space-borne satellites. No, the shuttle would be more of a liability than an asset...unless...

"We could rig it to explode at the next touch down, and send it back to their base on auto-pilot!" he suggested energetically.

Roe's eyes lit up instantly. "Brilliant!"

"When you get back to the camp, send for Cache immediately. I don't know how much time we might..."

'BEEP...BEEP...BEEP' sounded a low chime on the console, redirecting both their attentions to the noise and its corresponding visual monitoring device.

"What is it?" Roe asked nervously, his mind already filling with alarm.

"Son of a bit...! An incoming vessel!"

Ron didn't even think as his hands swiftly toggled down a couple of dropdown messages to reveal a picture of the approaching ship. The breakdown of the craft showed that it was roughly twice the size of the shuttle, had long, transitional wings which swept back at higher speeds, and was slimmer and more maneuverable. It also had easily twice the firepower of Ron's commandeered aircraft, a third stronger shields, and was flown by a pilot with twenty cycles of combat experience in like machines.

"Shit!" Ron grunted dejectedly. "Roe! Clear the field! Get everyone out of here as quickly as you can! We have...maybe five borts."

Ron followed him out of the cockpit and began stripping the ship of everything that wasn't tied down, tossing it all out the open portal. He was going to need every ounce of power the ship could muster...and didn't want a gram of extra weight.

The shuttle was very Spartan to begin with, it being used only for troop transport for so long. It had virtually nothing in it other than the hard bench seats along each side, and straps for each of the huge soldiers to be secured with. He spied a large medical kit near the doorway and almost tossed that too...but thought better of it as he calculated his chances of surviving the coming battle unscathed.

"Ron!" called Roe as he made to reenter the ship. "The orders are given. Everyone is moving as fast as possible. What are we going...?"

"No my friend," Ron said as he stopped him cold. "You will need to stay here and manage the army. Rasche, Jorin, and Jarle will assist you no doubt, but the majority of the men will look to you. Get them all scattered from here and meet up at our backup coordinates. Clear out the town too. The Kreete will want to punish anyone in the area as soon as they find out about this little skirmish."

"But I can't abandon you to face them alone," he pleaded...his loyalty to his friend compelling him to not leave his side. "You will need me! I can feel it."

"Maybe...probably...but I'll just have make due. The troops will need your voice to reassure them. They can't be allowed to fall apart! This is barely a scratch of what will be coming and they must begin to ready themselves for that. I'll be along as soon as I can."

Roe saw the wisdom in Ron's advice and gripped him hard at the shoulders.

"Good luck, my friend," Roe told him before he bolted from the ship.

Ron immediately turned back to the cockpit and hastily strapped himself into the seat, cinching the harness extra tight, and then he freed his mind of all but what he must do. This was going to be rough.

### Chapter Seventeen

### Come and Get It

Ron Allison quickly pulled up the schematics of the inbound craft and found it to be an officer's yacht...a Saber-Class courier vessel. He sorted through the most important systems of that ship to locate their exact locations, then selected the targeting protocols of his own shuttlecraft's weapons...placing them to "auto". Next he input the primary target along with the secondary, the third, and so on. When this bout began, he was certain he would be far too busy to be able to track and fire at such precise points on his own.

He took a look around the field and was heartened to see it empty of his army. They'd even managed to retrieve their dead and wounded, leaving the corpses of the fallen Kreete as the only marker of the battle. The sun was now up high enough to begin baking the dew from the grassy land and that created a thick mist that hung just above eye-level, replacing the burned off fog with an even thicker cover that shrouded the clearing with placid obscurity.

"Thank the Creator! This just might work," he consoled himself.

His heart raced as he gripped the control stick, (a small protruding handle on the center console, much like the joystick of a computer game), and intently watched the six-inch-wide view screen on his console. The tiny blip drew closer and closer before it slowed to make a gentle, sweeping landing approach.

They'd been trying to raise the shuttle's pilot on the communication system, but of course they could not. Ron knew he could never mimic the Kreete's guttural speech, so he'd just triggered the microphone several times and brushed it roughly against the stiff fabric of the seat, hoping it would sound like static or a garbled transmission.

He coaxed the scout ship into a low-powered hover that barely cleared the thick grass, and then carefully repositioned it to be broadside with the approaching vessel. That way it was oriented to a status that would allow both of his cannons to be utilized at the initial assault.

The incoming ship had full power to its shields as it made its way over the trees and out across the moisture-shrouded battlefield, obviously suspicious and cautious.

"This is Dekin Lapscon," Ron heard over the intercom, "Reaper class Kreete warrior and governor over the Mirchice Province! Stand down your ship and show yourself!"

It was only two hundred feet away now, blaring away with an external speaker system that repeated his demand for the shuttle to power down. That was when Ron decided his snare was ready to strike.

He shot straight up at them, emerging from the mist like an attacking animal...like a real shartae (Caronian wolverine) lunging at a greel (bear) threatening its offspring. A soon as he broke ground, Ron cut loose with an unrelenting barrage of firepower that completely engulfed the hesitant interloper.

Dekin's ship was a much more advanced bird and so its defenses held, however marginally, forcing Ron to carry forward with his maniacal plan. With his teeth clenched in a savage snarl, he rammed the larger vessel at full throttle, giving his weapons the only chance for maximum effect.

The collision of their respective protective barriers sent the two shields' matrixes instantly into overload conditions, and the dynamic, physical assault kicked the Saber's tail violently high. The radical attitude change pitched all the troops inside against the unforgiving bulkheads with great force...at least those who were foolish enough to have unbelted their restraints. Those were the scouts who were too eager to get into the ground war.

Never having seen such a suicidal attack before in his long career, Dekin was astounded into a momentary shock of sheer bewilderment and his pilot was likewise flummoxed as he desperately struggled for control.

The smaller ship was inexorable in its attack though and the nonstop battering made controlling the yacht nearly impossible for its driver; and that was further compounded with another alarming factor...the incoming disruptor fire.

Ron kept the shuttle's cannon trigger locked down and the engines running well past max thrust. His only hope was being able to keep the more menacing vessel off balance long enough for him to inflict enough damage to even the battle.

The forced interaction of the opposing shields propagated an enormous feedback surge through both ships' systems, and that, with the combination of his ceaseless energy blasts, allowed Ron to penetrate the bigger craft's defenses with substantial effect.

His plan had worked to a great extent, destroying their forward cannon, their communication node, and partially crippling one of their four engines...but he didn't let up at that. His days in the "Games" had proven to him that he must attack until he either vanquished his enemy, or was forced to retreat.

"Return fire!" Dekin ordered when he finally overcame his initial stupor.

"I cannot!" his pilot returned, his hands full just trying to keep the ship upright. "They destroyed the forward cannon and the aft is off-line! If we do not withdraw, we will lose the ship!"

The yacht's pilot was running his craft at full power to try and escape the melded position, but the shuttle's location was destroying the ground effect parameters he needed to keep his vessel under control.

"Shields are failing!" the pilot reported next, through gritted teeth. He was a very accomplished pilot with decades of aerial warfare experience...but the creature he was dealing with on that day had him nearly frantic from the pure insanity of the struggle.

Dekin toggled the door panel to the cockpit, giving him an unobstructed view of the cabin-cargo area. He saw his men bouncing off the inner walls and growled.

"Open the hatch!" Dekin ordered viciously. "Door gunner! Fire! Fire! Fire!"

The man strapped into the standing harness of the door gunner position was a Slayer class Septenant with many battles under his belt as well. He'd felt many rough and dangerous flights in his cycles of service and held firm to his weapon, even with the extreme pitching of the current situation. When the cargo style door slid abruptly aside however, his initial reaction was one of total astonishment.

The soldiers in the cabin of the yacht had no means to see what was happening since the ship had no windows, so they just held on as they could. They were expecting to engage the enemy in a brutal ground campaign with hand-to-hand weapons, so all of what was occurring then was extremely confusing to them. When the gunner saw one of his own ships...only twenty feet below...firing and ramming them...he hesitated.

"Where is the enemy?" he thought to himself, his mind trying to digest what he saw.

"Fire, you fool!" Dekin repeated his command.

In that instant, his reaction was to his order and not to the thought behind it. He heard and obeyed...his huge fingers triggering his powerful cannon and his finely honed instincts guiding that weapon well. It was not as strong as the main gun of the yacht, but at such close range it could be very lethal...and he did not miss!

Ron couldn't tell at first that he was taking fire...being too wrapped up in his own attack. Nevertheless, when his shields blinked and went out, and the interior of the shuttle was showered in charged matter that blew out most of his systems, he quickly understood his dilemma. The shuttle faltered and slipped behind enough for him to see his assailant and just in time to evade a full power blast directly into the cockpit.

The yacht's shields were fading in and out, so Ron kept the fire button pressed even while making some aggressive moves to sully the aim of their gunner. He then raked the ship back and forth across the underside of that larger vessel with as much force as he could, grinding away at both crafts' hulls in a relentless, gut-wrenching, horrifying battle for survival.

He was already taxing his ship beyond his ability just to keep the fight going, with every warning indicator in the cockpit beeping, chirping, wailing, or screaming, but he did not retreat. The battle took all his strength, speed, and reflexes to keep it going, so he couldn't even flip the cannons from auto back to manual to target that gunner. He was forced to admit he hadn't foreseen this particular contingency.

The airborne wrestling match underway waged well beyond the area of the large clearing, barely above the forest, and Dekin's veteran warrior pilot finally realized what he had to do. Instead of fighting his ship to get away, clear of the insane fiend that threatened to destroy both vessels, he dove down at the shuttle, using his yacht's larger mass to crush Ron's aircraft into the trees.

Ron was fully expecting that maneuver, but had no chance at all of stopping it, so when he heard the horrendous sound of trees dragging across his hull, he moved to plan 'B'.

From full power forward, he switched to full power reverse. The engines of the shuttle complied instantly...still running well past the safety margins designed into them...and threw Ron violently against his pilot's harness, which evacuated nearly all the air from his lungs. The yacht ground across the upper portion of the shuttle's hull and then skipped lightly off the verdure as the Kreete pilot once again took full control of his craft.

Inside that vessel, Dekin Lapscon smiled and helped his flyer inspect and quiet each of the blaring warnings while swinging it around as quickly as possible to get the door gunner a better target.

Ron saw their arcing move and immediately sped off in a direction that would put the most distance between them. He too took inventory of what remained functional and then gritted his teeth in dismay. He had no shields; his engines were running hard but at poor efficiency...too much debris having been ingested during the conflict. His aft cannon still worked but the forward gun was only partially charging. Without the shielding, the air drag was substantially hampering his speed and he knew instantly that he could not outrun the yacht, even as wounded as it was.

As the larger craft closed, Ron sprayed them with charged energy from his rear weapon, penetrating the yacht's safeguard only sporadically when its defensive barrier would flicker. The door gunner began pounding the shuttle again so Ron had no choice but to put the smaller ship through some extremely aggressive moves, no matter how poorly it was handling.

He went shooting down a nearby dried-up riverbed low enough to suck up a cloud of dirt in his wake fifty feet high, and angled between tall lines of trees that were so close he had to turn the craft on edge to scrape through. He then streaked through gorges of jagged, rocky cliffs, hugging the terrain tight enough that the ship creaked and groaned from the stress.

This was the first time he could remember ever cursing a beautiful, cloudless day...wishing instead for a large bank of that moisture laden, blinding white stuff to give him at least a moment's reprieve of the battering he was taking.

Few other humans could have survived the G-forces he was enduring, and the larger ship quickly gave up that game of cat and mouse, preferring to follow from a safer distance overhead. Ron of course knew he couldn't hope to lose them in the manner he was utilizing since he would eventually burn up his power-plants or smash into some abutment. So the next time an open avenue made itself available, he took it, drawing in the pacing enemy ship to a range where their gunner could piece up the shuttle again. As the yacht swept down at him, Ron pulled hard on his own control, climbing swiftly...directly at them again.

The point-blank blasts of Ron's rear cannon obliterated the weakened shield protecting that side of the yacht. The door gunner held his breath, and the trigger of his weapon, but neither could save him. When the yacht's protection failed, the short, stout left wing of the shuttle slammed into the larger craft's egress portal, crushing the gunner and his cannon turret...along with ripping a fair sized chunk out of the yacht's right wing. The two aircraft careened out of control in opposite directions at that point, each in tight spiraling rolls that nearly sent them into the mountainsides nearby.

Ron quickly realized the shuttle was done when all of the flight compartment panels went dark and the sound of the running engines was suddenly silent. He was hurtling headlong into a ravine and had no way of curtailing that dive, regrettably feeling this was truly it. The ship was completely at the mercy of Caron's gravity, and that was that.

In the few litas it took before impacting the terrain, he consoled himself with the fact that Cache was back, and would do everything she could to aid the rebels in their quest. With her working beside the natural Caronian leaders that had emerged; he felt there was real hope for them. Then he braced himself for the impact.

The tight rolling spin of the shuttle kept his perspective largely disoriented and when it impacted the planet, he couldn't have prepared himself for the outcome.

Inverted, the shuttle crashed into a shallow pool...a washed out, sweeping curve in the bend of the Nuisoe River, at the eastern edge of the Priatte Territory. Luckily, the shallow angle of flight in which he struck that small pond made the ship skip like a stone on the water. It lifted into the air once more, only to strike the sandy, loamy bank a hundred peors further on. Still performing its rolling, almost sideways tumble, the shuttle hit the ground again...right side up. After that, it skid at a very fast pace until the next turn in the river dumped it into the ravine once more, and straight into the opposite bank.

The yacht's pilot fought a gallant battle for marginal control of his ship, it too glancing off the planet, but much less forcefully. The size and shape of the craft allowed it to gouge out a deep rut in the soft riverbank but then return to the air...although only by the slimmest of margins.

Dekin was so surprised they hadn't crashed that he nearly congratulated the pilot for his remarkable feat of flying...but then his self-righteous attitude returned and his smile turned to a grimace.

"Find that shuttle!" he bellowed. "I want to know who was flying that ship...and I want him dead!"

The pilot was too busy trying to keep his heart from exploding at the relief of still being alive, but he tried to obey his Lord's order...however, only for a lita.

"Sir!" the pilot told Dekin while scanning his instruments intently. "We should return to a base immediately, or we may not be able to do so."

Dekin was livid, but the smoke filling the ship, as well as the violent shuddering of the craft stayed his wrath, and he listened.

"The number four engine is completely destroyed; number three is holding at flight idle, numbers one and two show signs of casement cracking. See the energy readings? They could fail at any moment.

"The shields are totally burned out; the right wing took heavy damage, as well as the intermediate hull. The guidance system is completely fried and even if it was not, and we knew what coordinates we were at, we could not call for help because that first strike wiped out the 'com'."

"I need only a little time to make sure that pilot is dead. Can you give me that?"

"Sir," the pilot said in disgust, "if we land, I seriously doubt we will ever take off again. In fact, the hover mode is gone too, so I would have to control the event manually, and I have not attempted that since my second cycle of flight training...with all the systems operating perfectly. Besides that, we have several badly wounded soldiers back there and we should get them to a regeneration facility...do you not agree?"

Dekin thought swiftly...not wanting to seem indecisive. The shuttle he wanted to examine was badly damaged and buried halfway under a huge pile of collapsed riverbank, more than likely permanently out of commission. If the pilot had miraculously survived, he would undoubtedly be seriously injured and unable to escape...especially if a recovery team was dispatched directly. He knew roughly where they were and the locator beacon from the shuttle would pinpoint the downed ship when they got close anyway, so he saw no reason to jeopardize his crew any further.

"To base then!"

### Chapter Eighteen

### Hell

Ron opened his eyes and looked out across a huge, grassy field decorated sporadically with blooming, pink cherry blossoms. It was a crystal clear day, somewhere along mid-morning, the air was crisp and clean, and the sun was so sparklingly bright that he had to smile. He could smell the distinct fragrance of rose petals; even though he got the definite impression that it was late winter, or very early spring. Beyond the open space of the field, the live oak trees bordering the entire grounds had very low hanging limbs and were full of dark green leaves. They reminded him of the trees he and his brothers used to climb in the front yard of their home in Lake Charles, Louisiana. In fact, as he took a second glance, he knew exactly where he was.

There were people here and there standing about and talking...no...they weren't conversing, they were shaking, as if sobbing. Then, as his senses began to focus more effectively, he could clearly hear a woman crying across the fifty yards of pristine grass. The world grew oddly brighter as his perspective solidified...like a television just warming up. The change continued until finally he was squinting in the sunlight, the glare being too much for his sensitive eyes to tolerate. It forced him to raise his hand to shade them...bringing the scene into better focus...and better understanding.

He was standing in the center of a large graveyard, one he'd seen his grandmother put to rest in, which was only three blocks from his parent's house. He casually watched the strangers...a group of seven individuals...four men and three women...and the men were trying to comfort the ladies. A fresh mound of earth lay at their feet and was ringed with grand sprays of flowers, causing his heart to reach out to them in their sorrow. It was as if he could actually feel the weight of their loss, remembering his own quite vividly.

"Oh, Derek! Come here! Come on over here, baby!"

That voice came from directly behind him...that of a young woman coaxing a child, and his heart leapt in his chest with a tremendous lurch. He recognized that voice without question! It could never fade from his memory. It was the gentle, sweet, melodious sound of his wife...it was Angela!

Every shred of pragmatic stability in his conscience told him he was wrong...that he was misguided by his emotions, but he couldn't be...could he? He hesitated. If what he knew he heard was truly behind him, then he knew he was either dreaming or dead...and neither was a good option for him.

"Come on, sweetie! Show Daddy how good you walk!"

Ron rotated his head very slowly, almost wishing it would turn out to be a stranger...that he would be mistaken. He saw a wobbly little boy, maybe fourteen months old, stutter-stepping across the closely cropped grass. He had his hands spread wide and a fitfully giddy, gurgling laugh sprouted from his bubbling lips...and Ron laughed at the tranquil, wonderful silliness of that sight. But when the child reached his goal and collapsed into the waiting arms of a beautiful brunette sitting in the lush grass, Ron's knees let go and he fell on them to the ground.

The woman wrapped her arms around the child tightly and squeezed him...causing more of the gurgling laughter to issue forth. And when she opened her fabulous, hazel-green eyes, Ron coughed hard...his sheer surprise contracting his chest so hard he couldn't help it.

"Angie?"

"Oh, Ron! I wish you could be here with us!" she said with a soulful longing in her voice, totally oblivious of his presence. "I wish you could hold our baby in your arms and play with him! I know, my love, that you're watching over us now and always will be, but we miss you so much!"

Ron tried to go to her, to take her in his arms, but he couldn't move.

"Angie! Sweetheart, I'm here...I'm right here!"

She made no response to his words at all, and merely gathered up the little boy and stepped over to a headstone, to Ron's left. It was a large slab of granite with deeply carved words across it. Ron leaned over as far as he could to read the inscription.

'Ronald Derek Allison...Beloved husband...Beloved son...Gone before his time...You will be missed'

"He reminds me of you so much, my darling. He has your dark eyes, and your tenacity! When he puts his mind to something, he doesn't let go!"

Ron stared at the face of that tiny person who was looking right back at him over his mother's shoulder...almost like he could see him. Ron reached out to stroke his chubby little cheek, but a new sound redirected his focus. A large limousine with blacked-out windows pulled up the gravel roadway that wound through the cemetery, and stopped. Two men exited the vehicle and approached. They were dressed in dark green suits and matching trench coats. They wore their hair short-cropped and sported dark sunglasses.

It was like one of those spy movies. The only thing missing was the ubiquitous black helicopter hovering off to the side ominously.

One of the men reached into his coat and removed an identification badge, showing it to Angela.

"Ma'am," he said to her in a terse, no-nonsense tone, "we need you to come with us."

"Why? What for? I've answered all the questions you people have asked of me...a hundred times! I was told we were going to be left alone! I don't know anything! What do you want?"

"Leave her alone, or I'll rip your freaking head off!" Ron vowed as his anger swelled quickly, his hand moving automatically to his sword...but it was not there.

He couldn't see the badges they had offered, but felt certain some government agency was involved.

"That ship didn't 'do' anything!" his wife added. "It just hovered there for a while and then flew off! I don't know why it was at my house! I don't 'know' anything!"

"Ship?" Ron thought out loud. "How could she know anything about the ship? How is it that she's alive? The entire planet is a smoking heap!"

At that point, he knew he was dreaming, but the realism of the experience was like no other he'd ever felt. He would have sworn he was there with them.

"We would like you to look at some photographs and literature," the second man told her, "to help us further understand what really happened that day almost two years ago. It shouldn't take more than an hour, or so."

"Could we reschedule this meeting?" Angela asked warily. "My son is just about due for a feeding and my husband's folks are waiting to see him. I only stopped by to visit for a minute on the way over."

"I'm sorry, but we have some very important scientists anxiously awaiting your input. You can call your in-laws from the car and explain your delay."

"And just exactly how is it that you knew where I was? I didn't tell anyone I was stopping here."

"Please ma'am. It will only take a few minutes."

Ron's wife didn't like the situation at all...he could tell that clearly...but saw no way around it, so she went to the car with them. Then, just as she was stooping to get in, she turned back and looked directly at him.

"Don't be deceived by them, Ron," she said as point-blank as if they were alone in the field. "They cannot be trusted! Danger runs beneath! You will understand soon, and you must act quickly, my darling, or all will be lost. Remember this...'She really is too good to be true!'"

Ron reeled from that warning. "What? What was that?" he asked of her. "What do you mean? Who? Baby, what do you mean?"

At that point, one of the men touched a small, silver, pen-looking device to her throat and she went instantly limp. They caught her and the child and placed them gently into the car. The baby was crying when the door shut, and the long car drove away, leaving Ron in total bewilderment...and not without a great deal of angst.

"What does this mean?" he asked again...his head swimming...mired in confusion.

As the limousine turned onto the paved road, outside the cemetery, his wife's voice rang in his ears like she was right beside him.

"Wake up, my darling! They're coming!"

Ron's eyes fluttered for a moment and then he was awake. The beautiful day, and the incredibly wonderful sight of his beloved were both gone, and so were the pleasant feelings they'd produced...leaving him extremely irritated and worried.

He tried to orient himself to this new reality, and the first lucid thought he had was that he couldn't see. Something was in his right eye obscuring his vision on that side, and his left had triple vision.

He found it to be quite a struggle, his skull throbbing painfully, but concentrated on his left eye forcefully, until it settled into focus and he could scan the cockpit.

Daylight flooded in from the side window directly to his left, but the forward facing ones were covered in rocks and dirt. A large panel was hanging down to his right and he quickly realized it had smashed into his head during the tumbling crash. That apparently accounted for his splitting headache and the material in his eye...drying blood.

His right arm was caught on something, so he tried to wipe that sticky mess away with his left, but found that appendage reporting excruciating pain when he moved it.

"Oh, God!" Ron wheezed, nearly blacking out, and that only brought attention to the fact that his chest and ribs felt about the same.

A glance at his left shoulder explained his discomfort in that appendage...it was dislocated. He deduced that his other maladies were from the force of the crash slamming his body's weight against his restraints...probably breaking, or at least bruising several ribs. Another sweep showed why his right arm wasn't free...the armrest of the chair had collapsed against him and pinned it to his hip. A brief struggle was enough to be able to wiggle that arm loose, and clarified that it wasn't badly injured.

As his bodily systems returned to operating status, he found he had a very difficult time breathing, with a great degree of burning pain at every intake of air. He fingered the seat harness to free himself and some of the pressure abated, but the pain was still sharp. He moved gingerly, expecting to find he was free from the chair but noticed instead that his left ankle was caught down in the foot-well and he couldn't move it.

His heart rate climbed quickly under the strain of his motions and caused his mind to swim in and out of coherence.

"This is not good," he told himself as his visual input tilted hard to the right without his head moving.

Ron slammed his eyes shut to stop the listing feeling and took in a long painful gulp of air. The interior of the ship was stifling hot and sweat already dripped from every inch of his body, but he did however feel a slight draft of air. It moved from his left to the right and he leaned his head into it and used that small bit of relief to keep him conscious.

The tiny breeze was reaching him via a basketball-sized hole in the thick plastiglass window where a disruptor blast had cut through the ship, exiting out a similar, yet much larger hole on the right. He guessed he'd missed being incinerated by less than two inches.

Ron spent the next few borts trying to pull his jammed foot free, but soon realized it was really stuck.

Earlier, when he commandeered the shuttle, he moved the huge chair, (designed for a Kreete warrior) all the way forward so he might operate the forward console and see the readouts more clearly. But now that decision was working against him. There was obviously no power to retract the seat, so with little room to spare, he strained to operate the manual seat controls. They were on the inboard side of the chair, and would've been easily accessible, but now the levers were completely smashed.

He then began a systematic search for some type of prying devise he could shove down to his foot area, but saw nothing within his reach, or his entire visual realm for that matter. He then laid his head back, desperately trying to think.

The sweltering temperature inside the cockpit made his mind seem even more sluggish and his thoughts irregular, but through that swirling fog he suddenly recalled an object that would work...his sword.

He gripped that nearly three-foot-long weapon and slid it neatly halfway out, but the close confines of the flight deck's crushed ceiling wouldn't allow enough room to draw the ebony device.

"Son of a bitch!" he swore at his degrading luck.

At that instant, his primal self brought every movement of his body to an abrupt halt. A scent had crossed his nose and made his gut clench automatically. It was that of a cat! Forgotten was his quest for a prying tool, for freedom, for water for his desert-dry throat. His sole focus now was to scan the area around the ship.

It was intensely bright outside with his face in the shadow of the shuttle's hull, so his perception was much hampered, but he was supremely certain that something deadly was out there.

He leaned over to get his face in the glare so his protective eye-glands would initiate, but that option was erased by the instantaneous appearance of a large, snarling skull filling the fissure in the window. It was a kryate...a wraith cat...called that due to its uncanny camouflage that made it nearly invisible in the land where it roamed. It was as large as a full-grown earth tiger and men were known to walk right up next to the creatures before ever seeing them...and then of course, it was too late.

The cat's head was jammed into the cockpit up to the shoulders, snarling and roaring, drool spraying and dripping from its four-inch-long fangs which were barely a foot from Ron's shoulder. Ron pulled back sharply, out of reflex, and felt an intense, piercing pain in the right side of his chest. That awful sensation didn't slow his hand though, as it transferred from the hilt of his sword to the twelve inch throwing knife, at the base of his neck. A blue sliver of ultra-hardened metal flashed around and then down, to plunge into the skull of the cat in a wink, and the beast went limp instantly.

Ron growled back at the now deceased animal, his heart racing and the pounding in his skull quadrupling. He sat back again as the world around him dimmed to a dull gray, and forced himself to relax, to get control of his thoughts again...but a new sound prevented such leisure time. He heard sniffing!

One...no two more of the creatures were checking on the dead one, each issuing grunts and growls that rumbled like distant thunder.

Ron was well aware that the prides of such animals could be large, so he leaned forward enough to look around the heavy, hanging panel directly to his right, and judged the size of the breach in that window. His guessed it very probable that the opening would permit entry of the beasts.

"Shit!"

He fumbled for the controls to the seat again, this time reaching past the levers and buttons to the underside of the panel where his middle finger could barely feel a cable. He strained hard, trying to add another inch to his reach, and was just able to hook it with his digit's first joint...and then he pulled.

The seat fairly flew back two feet...back to the typical distance a Kreete scout would require for egress. And since he couldn't travel backwards with it because of his foot, it scooted nearly out from under him and jolted him hard.

Another sharp stab registered inside his body, sending him to the brink of blacking out again, so strong was its signal. When he straightened up, he couldn't quell the need to let out an agonizing cough...and the spray of spittle was laced with his blood.

His cognitive skills were still foggy but he knew then he was in dire trouble. He didn't know exactly how far from Gardilane he'd flown, but guessed it was easily three days journey on foot. Of course that fact didn't matter at all unless he could free himself from the ship...before the kryates found their way in.

He clamped his jaws shut and prepared himself as best he could for the coming agony, and then slid off the seat and onto the floor as smoothly as possible in his predicament.

"Hhhhhhmmmmmmmm!" escaped from him in an uncontrollable huff of misery, muffled by his closed lips, but clearly loud enough that the hunters outside would have heard it. His vision blurred and doubled again for a short time before he finally managed to return his attention to his plight and saw the problem in the foot-well.

The violent collision against the embankment had crushed-in the forward bulkhead and the collapse had trapped his boot tightly...but he counted himself lucky that it hadn't crushed it.

He kicked at the crumpled metal a few times with no luck, but the noise brought further attention of his furry friends on the outside. A lita later, a new face was peering into Ron's prison; this time through the opening on the right. The beast stood up on its hind legs, its long claws hooked on the edge of the opening, and then hauled itself in far enough to see Ron. A ten inch, razor-edged missile changed its mind and forced a retreat, blood pouring from the entry wound at the base of its jaw.

Ron figured his time was very short, but also took note that his present position on the floor of the cockpit gave him more room to work with, and so he quickly slipped the black sword free and eased it into position. He pried as hard as he could, but barely felt any change in his status...and then another cat appeared...more fiercely this time in its efforts of trying to get at him. It took two throws to stop that one and Ron glanced around for his bow...which he quickly located behind the right seat. The bad thing was, with his left arm dislocated he would never be able to wield it, so he returned to his primary goal of freedom and pulled harder.

The strain on his battered body resulted in more mind-numbing pain in his chest...but he was rewarded with a loud, distinct snap. He was nearly there!

Frantically, he repositioned the black saber and surged his bulging arm once more...at last getting the result he needed as the metal bent steadily up and away! His relief was totally negated though when a tremendous roar vibrated the cockpit compelling Ron to snap his head around to see a large male kryate slipping through!

He was out of knives long enough to matter at that point, so the ebony blade whipped up to his defense. The cat dropped to the copilot's seat and swatted at Ron with blazing speed, but it met the tip of the black sword, opening up a long gash in the foreleg of the beast, and so it roared again. Ron kicked at the bulkhead that still held him fast, and waved his blade at the wraith cat...his self-preservation mode overriding all pain and lack of proper focus.

Another cat squeezed through the hole just then, but Ron's foot slid free also. He immediately twisted around to his knees in the cramped area and brandished both swords, his left shoulder screaming in mind-bending torture. The male cat pounced at Ron suddenly, and the twenty-seven inch long shadow-blade disappeared into is body. The creature perished straight away, but not before it opened Ron's arm up with three deep, nasty, ragged gashes, and its teeth sunk into his right shoulder.

The other animal had wriggled through up to its hindquarters, pausing briefly while the male's life was extinguished. Ron didn't have enough room to free the black rapier from the dead cat, so he swapped the short sword to his right arm as his blood poured to the deck.

At that exact instant, the call of the Piercellione ripped from that heat-soaked tomb, rebounding down the high, washed-out embankments in an echoing sonata...one last, defiant challenge from the legendary 'Ronin', whom everyone thought as undefeatable.

He'd felt the kiss of death brush his cheek so many times in the last two cycles that he hardly noticed it now, but one thing was definite...even if he could stop this beast, there were at least five others out there scratching to get at him.

"This is a good end!" he thought quickly, considering his history and persona.

He hadn't let his family down, or his friends, or his loves. He'd managed to draw away the danger that would have ended all of them, and this final fight would surely be discovered and glorified in the name of their legendary hero. His death would be a blow to the war effort no doubt, but perhaps as a martyr he would continue to give them strength and resolve.

### Chapter Nineteen

### Where Could He Be?

While Ron fought for his life in that steadily increasing furnace of the shuttle's cockpit, those he'd sacrificed himself for, and left so far behind, were in full speed motion to clear the area. They were entirely aware that even if Ron was successful in destroying that yacht, the Kreete would be back...and in no mood to show anyone compassion. The question was "when"?

They had all planned for this contingency well in advance...knowing that one day it would come to be...that they would all be made to run for their lives. This was it!

When the battle back at Rasche's camp first began, after she deposited Ron and Roe's weapons, Cache had ridden hard for Gardilane to warn them about what was transpiring, but she was met and stopped in the road by several guardsmen Jarle had posted as outer sentries.

"The Kreete are here!" she announced. "You must warn your townspeople and start evacuating them!"

One of the troops escorted her through the roadblock and the others prepared for battle...at least what little they could. The actual leaders of the armies were stationed around that field were with their men, so the guard brought her directly to Lilea Sevraign...the highest-ranking rebel official left in town.

"Mistress Lilea!" the man called out for her as they approached at high gallop.

"Lilea?" Cache heard echo in her mind, knowing she'd been told that name before and quickly searching her memory of all the adventures Ron had spoken to her about, back at the waterfall cove. The description Ron once gave her for the person owning that name kicked into motion, and she confirmed it with a glimpse of those emerald eyes and coif of chocolate curls. It could be no other than the parc farmer he'd saved on the Lampsh Road.

Lilea was already running up to them, having felt the thundering hooves of the horses drawing near. She was very beautiful, Cache noted with a tinge of jealousy she didn't quite understand.

"What is it, Gruuge? What has hap...?"

It only took a single glance at Cache's exquisite violet eyes for her to know whom it was she greeted. The roundness of her belly however, was a different matter.

"This woman claims..."

He was cut off at that instant by a cry of battle that only one man could make, and Lilea instantly knew that Ron Allison was in mortal combat. She didn't know who with though, or why, but the woman in front of her would.

"Cache?" Lilea asked pointedly. "Cache Kuar?"

Cache was astounded. She blinked at Lilea for a moment before replying.

"Yes. But, how could you...?"

"Never mind that. What's wrong? Has battle broken out?"

"Yes, but how did you know 'that'?"

"Ron was worried that he couldn't avoid a conflict with the Praetorians, but that call of his could only mean..."

"No, no," Cache cut her off, "it is not between them...the Kreete are here!"

Lilea's face blanched deathly white, as if all the blood had instantly escaped from her tanned flesh. Her heart raced as fast as her mind, and then she gritted her teeth and flushed deeply, the heat of her steadfast resolve taking immediate control.

"Gruuge, spread the word as fast as you can. Cache...the triage center is over here. Can you still work?" she asked quickly, eyeing the bulge of her womb as Cache climbed down from the saddle.

"Oh yes. I am not due for another few santaris."

"Good! I know we will need your skills as a physician shortly. The main building over there is set up with beds for the wounded. Any surgery will be your call! Okay?"

"That is fine, but how do you know who I am, that I am a doctor?"

Lilea just smiled at her as she headed off. "Ron Allison and I have spent a great deal of time together!"

"I thought he told me you were married!" Cache shouted at her retreating form, with a harsh, biting edge to her statement.

"Not 'that' kind of time!" Lilea called back with a smirk.

Cache felt very out of place in this situation filled with unfamiliar faces and no clear parameters, so she set about familiarizing herself with the area immediately. She went over everything, inventorying the supplies and memorizing what drugs and instruments were available. She was highly impressed at the organization of the med center. They had done well. She found the lone doctor of the town as he came rushing up, he having just heard the announcement, and introduced herself, asking for what duties he wished her to handle.

"Whatever you feel you can," he told her frankly, "We will be overwhelmed very quickly!"

Cache glanced up at where Lilea had gone and saw her talking with two women who'd just ran up to her in a huff. They all spoke quickly and then the two headed straight for the hospital center. The rest of the town was in total, concerted movement. Not a single individual was standing still. As she watched, she saw wagon after wagon filing down the narrow streets and up to the homes where they were immediately loaded.

"Someone has done a great deal of planning!" she concluded.

Her attention was averted just then by one of the two women who'd spoken with Lilea, and who was now walking fast toward her and the doctor. She was young, with long, wavy, flowing black hair...and she was truly, staggeringly beautiful.

Josy was wearing her usual scant attire of a halter-top and tiny skirt-shorts with sandals, and today her color of choice was sapphire blue.

"That is Josy," the doctor told Cache as he walked away. "She and her mother, Mishea are skilled healers as well, and they will be helping us. I have to go check on something! I'll be back in a moment."

Josy walked straight up to Cache quickly, her eyes flickering to the retreating doctor and then back to the little Raulden woman. She stopped a couple feet away and the two ladies stared at one another for an oddly long few litas.

"Your/your eyes/eyes!" they said to one another simultaneously, before each of them released a quick giggle.

"Hello! I'm Josylinia. Everyone calls me Josy."

"I am Cache. It is a pleasure to meet you. The doctor tells me you and your mother are doctors as well?"

"Well, not professionally, but we have had training we can use, and...forgive me, Cache, but I see that they are almost up to my house. I have to go and load up our things. I'll be back when the time comes.

"This is my mother, Mishea...Mother, this is,"

"Cache Kuar," Mishea finished, further baffling Cache about how she was so widely known by people she'd never met. "Go on, Josy...we will prepare things here."

"You are her...'mother'?" Cache asked, amazed at that fact. "But you are so...young...and gorgeous!"

Mishea appeared to be a slightly more mature looking woman than Josy...an older sister perhaps. Her straight, jet-black hair...braided into a plait much like Cache's at the moment...and total lack of any age lines, defied the normal means of such determination. She dressed much as Josy, only her attire left a bit more to one's imagination...a little more conservative and demur...while still allowing for much of the cooling aspects of her daughter's more dramatic accents.

"Thank you," Mishea said sweetly. "You are very kind. Now we had better get busy."

After Cache exchanged introductions with Mishea, and they spoke briefly about her stage of pregnancy being of no real concern, they both discussed the flow of the center, for when the time came. That turned out to be prudent planning because it wasn't a long wait before the first casualties began arriving, at which time Cache forgot about everything going on around the town, and got to work.

The wounded flooded in, swarming the triage area for the next several billots, during which time Cache took note that Josy and her mother, who she still couldn't easily believe could be so, were very proficient and knowledgeable. There was a townswoman assisting Cache with her duties and she couldn't help but inquire about the pair.

"Nara, who are those two lady doctors? They do not appear to be from this place."

The rather plump, middle-aged woman, Nara, glanced up quickly and smiled.

"No, they are not from around here. The one with the long, straight hair is Mishea. She is the wife of a rich buonta-bean farmer, the Lord of this training camp. The other is Josy, her daughter. She is the envy of every breathing woman in the territory. She is Ronin's mate."

Cache tried to absorb what she was saying, but didn't understand.

"And just who is this Ronin?"

Nara paused what she was doing to give Cache a stare of open astonishment.

"I wouldn't have believed it to be true...that there was any person within a santari's travel who didn't know who Ronin was."

During Ron's time in the Retribution games, Cache had been so focused on his plight that she failed to realize what name many in the various crowds used for Ron, toward the end of his captivity. She referred to him only as Shartae...the primary designation he'd been known as. At the cove, he never spoke to her about the legendary alias he'd been given on his first day in the city of Lampsh. Truthfully, he considered the whole notion of any rational comparison between him and that mythical hero to be rather silly.

"He is the leader of this army...at least to everyone but him. He is its soul, its strength, and its steel. He is the Piercellione Danecore...the legendary warrior from the mountains...the ultimate champion for the people!"

Cache still didn't fully understand, but instantly knew that lovely young woman was very highly regarded in the town.

"There is not a single female who wouldn't jump at the chance of taking that girl's place in his bed...but who could really compete with her?"

Cache let it go at that, gathering that her "mate" was a great leader in the organized army's ranks. Her curiosity was extremely peaked, but she concentrated on the essential work at hand, which left her far too busy to allow her mind to be cluttered with such trivialities. In any event, she was sure Ron would introduce this fellow to her eventually, when he returned.

By late evening, the glorious news of how the battle turned out had circulated several times, lending to an uplifting air around the triage center and hospital. All the wounded had been treated at that point, and those with the most severe injuries were resting in the makeshift hospital, so Cache decided to take a few moments to have a break and get something to drink.

Most of the injured men were lying atop mats on the ground, since there weren't nearly enough tables and beds to accommodate them all, and so the healers were forced to kneel beside them in order to tend them. The petite Raulden woman realized she was light-headed quickly when she tried to stand and the room shifted on her, so she plopped back down promptly, grabbing the table next to her.

"Are you alright?" asked a sweet voice from behind her.

Turning, she found Josy strolling by, also checking on the patients.

"I have not eaten since breakfast and I think it is catching up with me."

"Oh, Cache, you can't do that in your condition! It is not healthy for you or the baby!"

"I know," she acknowledged sheepishly, "but we have all been so busy that I simply did not think of it."

"Well, come with me and we'll get you taken care of."

Josy escorted Cache to the nearest café...the only one still open in Gardilane...and they sat and talked while they ate.

"You are a very accomplished physician," Josy told her between bites. "Where did you get your training?"

"On a plan...in a place far from here," Cache said, catching herself. "What about you? You and your mother are remarkably skilled as well. That is quite an accomplishment...and very rare, no doubt."

"Mother was trained on her home world, Tregasia. I was taught in Pigonta."

"Pigonta? But that is the Kreete capital! It is forbidden for Caronians! How is that possible...unless you are..."

"Kreete," Josy told her openly, between sips of her beverage. "My father is Karne Gitove, a Reaper class warrior of the Kreete Triad, and leader of the roving patrol team known as the..."

"Hellions!" Cache grunted as she chewed...her eyes flying wide.

She unexpectedly inhaled a bit of her food just then and began to cough vigorously, the surprise of that announcement startling her badly. She got to her feet and leaned on the table to steady herself. Josy moved to aid her but Cache stepped back quickly.

"Do not touch me!" she ordered, her eyes teared-up and dripping, still coughing hard.

Cache felt a firm grip on her arm and wheeled around to defend herself.

"Are you okay?" Jarle Raidene asked her, catching her swinging fist easily in his large hand.

Cache stared up at him blankly, he standing as tall as Ron and peering down at her with deep concern in his dark brown eyes.

"Cache, are you alright?"

Again she was surprised that everyone seemed to know her, but she had no clue as to who they were.

"Yes," she managed...her coughing fit finally passing. "How does everyone here know me? Wait! She is Kreete!" she blurted, pointing at Josy harshly. "Did you know that? What is she doing here?"

Lilea had noticed earlier that Cache and Josy were sitting together and had kept a close eye on them, feeling that this was a clear recipe for disaster on multiple fronts, so she rushed up to lend a hand.

"Cache," Lilea jumped in, with a smile and a fresh glass of murge juice in her hand. "Here, take a drink...and please...have a seat. I will fill in some of the details. Josy, sweetie, it's fine, please finish your meal. Jarle, we're all right. I know you have things to take care of, so don't worry."

They all sat down again and Cache listened to Lilea nervously. Ron had told her a great deal about the Lampsh woman...about how they had met and how much he trusted her, and about how he'd helped her husband escape from Mardesh, so she felt she could trust her too.

"Me, Jarle...the fellow who was just here...and Heath Sarvand are..."

"From Lampsh," Cache finished the statement for her, wanting to show that she wasn't completely in the dark. "And Roelantish is from the Chavarre Territory. I am familiar with that."

"Good then," Lilea smiled, impressed that she was somewhat up-to-date after being separated from the mission for so long. "They, and several other leaders from the eastern side of the Great Plateau, together with Ron, representing you and your fellow Rauldens, have formed an alliance with Josy's family."

Cache raised her eyebrows when Lilea showed that she had knowledge of her heritage.

"As inconceivable as this might seem, Karne...Josy's father...is a major supporter of our dissidence and has risked everything to help the people of Caron win our freedom. In fact, it was him and Josy who found Ron near death and saved his life, so please, I implore you to reserve your judgment about those who you meet here. We are all on the same side, and even though the three of us are each from a different planet, we 'can' work and live together in harmony."

"Ron has told you...everything?" Cache asked her quietly...shocked even further, "About me?"

"Yes...at least the information I needed to know...in case he were not around for...well," she paused to consider the present situation, "for whatever reason."

"Ron and you must truly be close!" she said, cutting her eyes at the stunning, green-eyed brunette.

Lilea just smiled again. "Everyone seems to get the idea that Ron and I are more than friends," she said with a role of her eyes, "and...I suppose we are. He's the strong, protective, big brother I never had. Although, believe me when I say that I 'have' noticed more about him than I would have if he were my brother!" she added with another mischievous wink.

Josy sat calmly across from them and burst out in a broad grin at that. She liked Lilea very much, especially her sassy wit.

That seemed to ease a lot of the stress in Cache's stare, and she finally complied with a grin as well, and adjusted her guarded expression to allow for a lighter quality.

Over the next billot, Lilea brought Cache up to speed about the events since that rainy night at the mansion when she, her Lampsh brethren, and Ron were brought back together. She completely left out the romance between Josy and Ron, of course. That would be up to Ron and Josy to work out with her.

When that was all done, Cache felt horrible for the way she'd reacted to Josylinia. This woman had saved Ron's life, sheltered and doctored him back from the brink of death, and had lost all she'd ever known due to that fact.

"Josy, please...please accept my apology. I should never have..."

Josylinia Gitove simply shook her head and smiled her most dazzling smile.

"There is no need. You couldn't have known, and if I'd been in your place, I would probably have reacted much worse."

Cache rose to her feet, went around to Josy, and hugged her tightly. "Thank you for your understanding. I think I am more emotional than normal, with all that I have going on these days," she concluded with a gentle sweep of her hand across her belly.

At that point, Jarle drifted back around to the table.

"Forgive me, but I need to speak with Josy, if I may."

They went off to the side for a time, and then Jarle left again, still rushing about with the coordination of the evacuation.

Josy returned with a very worried look on her face, scanning the darkness as if looking for someone.

"Josy?" Cache began, sensing great concern in the young woman. "Is something wrong?"

She looked at Cache with tears welling heavily in her eyes, and then glanced at Lilea.

"He's missing!"

"Who?" Cache inquired, trying to offer her support...knowing exactly how it felt to be separated from the man she loved. "Is it your mate...Ronin?"

Josy's panicked stare drifted to Cache, and she nodded.

"If even half of what I have heard about him is true, I am sure he is fine! He is probably out there right now, sweeping the area to make sure that the evacuation is guarded from a surprise attack. I know that is what Ron and Roelantish are up to, because I have not seen them either."

Josy and Lilea exchanged quick, guarded looks, but did not speak.

### Chapter Twenty

### Desperation

Back at the crash site, the big cat eased forward, its mouth opened wide in a menacing threat and its four-inch-long canines ominously displayed. Ron growled back at it with equal disdain, baring his own comparatively tiny, white teeth. The finely carved blade in his blood-soaked hand did not shake, did not waver in the slightest as he awaited the attack.

Suddenly though, there came a terrible, horrendous sound outside the ship, causing the encroaching cat to freeze for a moment, its head tilted back in an attempt to look outside. Its hind quarters still hadn't completely passed through the opening, and it appeared as if it wanted to rethink that move badly.

Multiple roars suddenly joined and melded, competing and blending collectively in a devastating and deafening collage of noise that went resonating through the hollow shuttle with a bone-chilling effect.

Ron fully expected to be overrun by the tigers at any lita, but instead, the creature that now was his immediate threat was abruptly and unexpectedly snatched back through the window in a frightening rush.

Ron whipped his head around and around, listening intently as a brawl outside raged with such fury that even he stayed down for a few moments. There were high pitched screams of pain and panic mixed with those much lower in auditory range...those of aggression and rage. As the sounds of that horrible battle moved away from the ship, Ron cautiously crawled to the window and peered out.

"Holy mother of...!" he uttered at the sight that was too fantastic even for him to believe.

It was Flash! He crouched in the center of a pride of the huge cats that numbered at least twenty...with fully half of them now scattered about the riverbank in pieces!

The baby tracker was currently two thirds fully grown and more than twice the size of the tigers...and he was a sight of absolutely unbridled savageness. Four kryates were feeling his wrath, and his movements, even to the speedy felines, were simply too swift to be eluded. He twisted quickly and pinned one in his jaws, crushing its body completely, slapped two others with his forelimbs, and another with his aft...all in the span of time that was so incredibly brief that it shocked Ron.

The tracker's teeth had grown to five inches in length and the double rows of those daggers were gruesomely efficient, as were his steel-hard claws. They'd grown to equal length as his fangs and tore the ribcage completely out of one cat while flinging its body well clear of the battle. The entire group of kryates lasted only another thirty litas, and then the most terrifying, gloriously wild, magnificent cry to be released on the surface of Caron issued forth in a long, victorious roar.

Ron watched the tracker for a while longer as it trotted about checking for any more danger. He looked horrible. His entire body was drenched in blood and Ron wondered if he might be in seriously dismal condition. After two laps around the battleground though, Flash made his way over to the river and splashed and rolled in the three-feet-deep water that glided almost imperceptibly by. Then he returned.

Ron nearly laughed. It hadn't been his blood that needed washing out of his fur! The pup wore some signs of the fight, visible here and there where the kryates had landed some good blows, but his tough, heavy-gravity hide had weathered them well, leaving just a few bad scratches. They didn't even bleed further.

Flash glanced about again, ran up to a point of high ground which allowed a good view of the area, and then trotted back to the ship.

Ron wasn't completely sure of his intentions at that point, it having been a very long time since they last kept company together, but the tracker couldn't fit through the hole the tigers had utilized, so he waited.

As time went on, his anxiety from the near death experience with the cats began diminishing swiftly, and his alertness followed, vacillating considerably. The heat and incredible pain he was enduring dimmed his mind even more, now that the adrenaline was abating.

"Hurt?" Ron heard in his mind, as Flash sidled up beside the cockpit window and let out a loud snort.

Ron remembered vividly how he'd been able to communicate with the tracker female and her pup, but this was much different...much clearer. Apparently, Flash had become much better at communicating with humans since their separation at the waterfall cove, and Ron wondered how...but not for long. His eyesight slid out of focus badly just then and he questioned what was real, and what he was imagining.

"Yes...I am hurt," he replied, taking another inventory of his condition. "It's bad!"

Another cough brought with it darker, thicker blood.

"Your mate?"

"What?" Ron tried to clarify.

"Go for help?"

"No...too far. Wait," Ron added after a brief moment of clear thought, "I have an idea...if you are willing."

He stumbled his way from the cockpit to the large, main compartment of the transport where he knew he would find a medical station. His actions helped clear his thoughts at least, so he was more alert when he actuated a lever that opened the hideaway medicinal supplies.

That part of the ship would have been totally dark, it having no windows at all, but luckily the emergency lights were still functional, allowing him to navigate the area well.

Ron scanned the foldout cupboard hurriedly and spied a stretcher tucked away at the far edge, and a field kit right next to him. Ron pulled the basket-shaped Kreete hauler out of its berth and let that eleven-foot-long, four-foot wide transport apparatus fall to the floor with a resounding metal clamor. He then added the large med kit toolbox at the foot of it, lashing it in place with the numerous straps that were fashioned into the carrier. He worked as fast as he could, knowing he was on borrowed time until he passed out. Next, he removed his weapons harness from his person and attached it to the end of the stretcher with another length of strapping material.

Lastly, he read through the medicines that were listed on the digital scrolling file that had automatically activated when the station was opened...it luckily having its own power supply as well. He found a strong sedative, one which Cache had schooled him about during his training preparations. He punched in his body's parameters so the pneumatic gun would calibrate itself for the proper dosage, twisted the dial from "mild" to "coma", and then he placed that next to the basket. Ron hoped that slowing his internal systems as much as possible would allow him to survive for the greatest amount of time.

It was getting more and more difficult to stand and his urge to cough was greater, so he turned immediately to the large side door, where the troops normally entered and exited. It was rare that they would ever make use of the manual door system, so it wasn't very plainly marked, and Ron lost some valuable time searching it out. When he did, he found that it had been designed for someone of a Kreete's strength to activate, and his hopes sank.

He was growing weaker by the bort, and barely able to force himself erect due to the excruciating pains in his chest, but he reached back into his primal well of strength...his pure, inflexible will...one more time. Ron grabbed the lever with both hands, his left shoulder utterly shrieking its objections to his brain, and pulled.

The cords in his arms began to bulge and knot, and his mind cleared to a pinpoint of focus...all faculties up and running for one last time...one last stab at life. His heart raced, pumping more of his inner fluid down the side of his skull from the deep laceration on his scalp, and dripping from his right arm where the cat's natural weapons had hit their mark.

A rumbling, grinding, fearsome growl found its way from his mouth as his eyesight turned red again, battling against the Kreete for one final victory...and then the lever dropped!

The door abruptly popped inboard four inches, and then onto its tracks where it slid smoothly aside, almost effortlessly.

Ron fell to his knees and then onto his back hard, releasing a high-pitched grunt of sheer agony and coughing up more blood from his punctured lung. His world turned dark for a lita; until he felt himself nudged harshly and smelled the snorting breath of an animal...of a friend.

"Rise!" he heard a command ordered at him telepathically. "Rise now!"

Ron blinked, saw the face of the tracker six inches above his, and gasped...that alone shocked him awake again.

"Geez!" he wheezed out of sheer surprise.

"Your plan?"

Ron forced himself to roll over and shuffled to the stretcher where he collapsed again on his back, this time inside the carrier basket.

"Cache! I need her. She is in a town..."

"I know where she is."

Ron's feeble coherence wanted to ask how that was so...how had Flash found him too...but he was running out of time and his lucidity was flagging badly again.

He pulled a couple of the restraint straps across him, his hands trembling terribly now, and then reached out and fumbled about for short a while...his vision spinning to darkness in a hurry. He finally found the hypo-gun and injected the sedative into his neck while simultaneously triggering the emergency system of the carrier...and then he lay back. It issued a slight hum and rose four feet above the ground, operating exactly like the armory's lift had, back on Rauld.

Lastly, with all the concentration he could still muster, he pictured in his mind a vivid scene of Flash pulling the sled with the harness clenched in his teeth.

"Run!" he grunted...and was out.

### Chapter Twenty-one

### Relief and Resolution

When daybreak had come and gone on the morning following the battle, with no word about Ron and only a few inhabitants of Gardilane left, Josy began to get very worried. She tried to take her mind off her growing anxiety by constantly caring for the dozen gravely injured soldiers who weren't well enough to move just yet. But when the last of them was loaded onto a wagon, she found herself at a point that a decision had to be made. Mishea was trying to be patient with her, but could see no further point in staying.

"He will catch up with us at the rendezvous," she explained, her voice less than confident and very strained.

"I c-c-an-not l-l-leave," Josy told her mother, her voice trembling uncontrollably. For reasons she really didn't understand, she found herself more distraught than she'd ever felt before. "I kn-knew s-s-something had g-gone t-terribly wrong yesterday...I c-could feel it."

She also knew Cache was feeling it too...that looming touch of dread. She saw it in her eyes, which had grown even more overwrought with each passing billot. During the waning borts of the previous day, just after dark settled in, that diminutive mother-to-be had started pacing in the torchlight like a cage lion. She trod back and forth across the wide practice field, searching the black forest with a piercing glare and jumping at every new sound.

Roe showed up much later, well after sundown, and gave Cache a report of "no news". He then spent twenty borts explaining all that had occurred during the battle, and how Ron had attacked the much larger ship like his namesake...the vicious, no-enemy-too-big-to-tackle beast that the crowds had compared him with.

Cache broke down in tears at that time, knowing all too well how outmatched the shuttle was to the yacht, and also knowing that Ron would fight to his last breath to lure such danger away. Roe stayed with her another billot, until she finally succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep. At that point, he visited with Josy and Lilea and then went back to his guard post...and his constant sweeping of the perimeter.

Josy and Lilea both felt as Cache did, crushed at the thought of what might have happened, but they also knew he'd already been pronounced dead so many times that it seemed ridiculous to think it could be true now. With their steadfast faith in his astonishing ability to cheat death carrying them onward, they forced themselves to retire and managed a few billots of rest.

In the early billots of the morning however, Lilea awakened to a heart wrenching decision, made infinitely more difficult without the solace of knowing Ron's fate. She and Jarle felt pressed to hurry back to her husband, Crogan, and inform him that the war had begun. The two armies needed to work together to spread the attack across as wide an area as they could...to divide the Kreete.

The pair was gone before sunrise.

As the new day began to brighten with dawn's first glow however, Josy suddenly sat bolt-upright on her sleeping mat, her mind filled with terror. She rushed outside into the fog-laden morning and began her search anew. She sought out and asked every man who came into town from their outer rim sentry duty if they had seen either Roe or Ron. None had, but admitted they hadn't seen anyone...and that was good...but it eased her mind not at all.

Cache finally rose wearily, well after sunrise, which was extremely odd for her, and found Josy nervously milling about the hospital. Together they made a breakfast of the rations they'd packed up, and Josy updated her on the state of the evacuation.

To break the frantic circle of unending questions and fears in their minds, centered on the one particular individual, they spoke cheerfully about the men whose lives they had managed to save. Those medical successes, with the rising star blasting away at the crystal clear morning sky, had lifted their spirits for a while.

By midmorning though, Jorin stopped by the hospital building and found the two women packing up the last of the supplies as if in a daze. They both showed obvious signs of their emotional anguish, and neither one was speaking...too caught up in the reality that time was against them. Mishea had left with Neidar some time earlier, in a wagon loaded with injured men. They were the fortunate ones since all of them were alert and talkative...a very good sign of their recovery.

"We need to go," he told them simply.

They looked at him and nodded, coming to the conclusion that he was correct. The warrior that they waited for was more than likely already headed for the next stop, and it was pointless to stay. The Kreete would be coming...that much they knew for sure.

"I/I am/am sure/sure he/he is/is fine/fine!" Cache and Josy consoled each other simultaneously...repeating their seemingly connected train of thought.

The ladies gripped each other's hands for reassurance and smiled up at Jorin, and then they both followed him to a waiting wagon. He'd been granted special leave by Rasche in order to see to Cache's safety personally. His commander was of course completely aware of his feelings for their beautiful doctor, he being quite fond of her as well.

"Jorin," Cache said, pulling him aside for a private chat. "I know this will sound awful...you having taken special liberty to make sure that I am safe...and I truly thank you immensely...but would you...could you please take the other wagon...with Josy, for the first leg of our trip?"

Jorin was very surprised at her request...instantly offended and hurt. "You no longer care to be in my company?" he asked with a clearly wounded ego.

Cache moved in very close to him then, placing her delicate hands on his wide chest...never having wanted to injure his pride or rebuke his attentions.

"That is not it at all! You 'know' that. You know 'me'. I love your company. We get along marvelously. I just have some things to speak to Roelantish about...that is all...I promise!"

Jorin saw the sincerity in her entrancing eyes and could feel it in her gentle, reassuring touch. He knew she was in love with another...but also understood that her feelings for him were deep...and true...and real. He softened his expression instantly and smiled down at her.

"Very well, Cache. I will force myself to make do with that other woman's company. I suppose she is not all together unpleasant," he added with a quick glance at the exquisite appearance of his new charge...and then flashed a devilish smile.

"Roe will be along in a moment then, and will be your escort. There has been no sign of Kreete movement for as far as we could see from our lookout posts, so we should have no problems this day. Also, when they do arrive, they'll likely spend time searching and destroying the town and the training compounds, giving us plenty of head-start on them."

With two men in the bed of the cart still unconscious but sleeping comfortably, Jorin climbed up next to Josy and took the reins. A quick wave to Cache and they were off...meandering down the dirt roadway at a fast walking speed.

Jorin was a very personable man and had no trouble initiating introductions and striking up a conversation with the buxom brunette.

Josy tried hard to be attentive to him, but as she watched the town of Gardilane grow smaller in the distance, she felt a horrifying loss...as if she would never see the man she loved again.

Cache stared after her until the wagon made a bend in the road and was gone, at which time Roe drifted up beside the carriage as silent as a breeze and climbed aboard, making her jump. Her hand flew to a dagger at her belt and fire lit instantly in her eyes.

"May the Guardian save us!" she let out before smacking him hard on the shoulder with her small fist. "You scared the wits out of me!"

"Sorry," Roe told her softly, ignoring her blow completely, "but there is something...strange...in the air. I can't understand what it is, but the forest has grown very still."

Cache wanted to ask him about word of Ron, but she knew he would have volunteered any such information, so she remained quiet. They lurched forward then, hurrying a bit to catch up on Jorin and Josy, not wanting to be out of sight of each other...for safety. But they only made it halfway to the turn of the road that separated their little convoy when she suddenly sat erect and alert.

"Cache!"

She'd felt a mental call she hadn't experienced in a long while.

Roe instantly noticed the change in his passenger and stared at her hard.

"What is it?"

Her head was practically on a swivel, swinging back and forth as if trying to hone in on a signal only she could hear. Then she saw it! It was just a flash of color, but it was there. She almost shouted, but remembered their pact.

"Flash!" she screamed in her mind. "Is that you?"

She got the distinct impression that he was exhausted, driven to the very brink of his strength...and that he was frantic and desperate. That feeling alone forced a cold shiver through her that made her heart lurch. What could possibly worry "him"?

"North! Now! Hurry!"

Cache spun her head around to face north and leaped from the wagon as if it were on fire, tearing across the meadow as fast as her oversized belly would permit.

"Cache!" Roe called after her anxiously while hauling back on the reins of the rouker. "Where are you going? What is it?"

He got no response but tore out after her anyway...positive that her panic was justly warranted.

She made it a hundred peors toward a thick stand of trees before a long, dark object emerged from the woods and drifted down the hill as if by magic.

"What in the dragen world is that?" Roe asked himself as he closed in on the little woman.

"Ron!" Cache screamed. "Ron!"

The object drew steadily closer, speeding up as the pull of gravity aided its movement toward them until Roe could see that it was a huge stretcher basket floating along and dragging an odd-looking harness...and that a man lay inside it.

Cache was there now, catching it and being towed along downhill by its momentum.

"Ron! Ron! Can you hear me, darling...its Cache!"

"Joooooorrrrrrrriiiinnn!" echoed a long bellowing call across the meadow and up the lane to bring Jorin Graive to an immediate halt.

His first reaction was that of attack, and he leaped to his feet with his hand on his bow, ready to fight, but it took only a moment of inspection to know it wasn't danger that had caused the long, pleading shout. Through the layer of trees dividing them, he could just barely make out two figures racing down the hilly knoll to the east of town, and heading the other direction. It was Cache Kuar and Roelantish Sonebane...and they were pulling something behind them.

"Jorin!" Roe shouted anew. "Bring her back! Hurry!"

Josy did not need to hear that order again, but instead, grabbed the reins and pulled hard, releasing a startled and irritated response from the horse that drew them. Jorin was thrown off balance and fell back onto the seat roughly...his legs flying upwards where he had to hang on for his life as that ravishing woman urged the steed to a full gallop back to Gardilane. The poor unconscious souls in the bed of the wagon vibrated around harshly, but unknowingly, forgotten in the mad rush to return.

When they were back beside the other wagon, they both leaped down and rushed at the approaching mountain man, and as they got close enough to see what it was he towed, Josy nearly collapsed.

Ron Allison was as still as death, and was covered in so much blood that they could hardly recognize who he was.

Cache took control immediately, putting her desperation aside and focusing on the medical problem before her.

"Roe...Jorin, we need a lot of water, fast! Josy, help me get him up to the med building. We will have to work on him outside, on one of the triage tables because the lanterns have already been packed away.

"How does that thing float?" Jorin asked of Roe as they ran toward the town's well.

Josy had seen such devices many times...and some that were much more fantastic...so she simply gripped the basket and ran with Cache over to the designated spot where they immediately checked his vitals.

"He has no response to light," Cache said as she forced his lids open in the sunlight.

"His pulse is extremely slow...and weak," Josy added.

Cache spied the dosage gun and checked its container...and then sighed out loud and smiled.

"He is the most amazing man I have ever known!" she told Josy, practically glowing with pride for her former partner. "I explained about how the proper sedation could prolong someone's life in the event that care was not readily available. That was 'once'...in passing...during some instructional training of battlefield strategy, almost two cycles ago!"

Jorin and Roe came up just then carrying buckets of water.

"How did he get here?" Roe asked of Cache, glancing about the woods.

Cache simply dismissed the question without a reply.

"We have to get him out of this stretcher," Cache announced, with no thought to any discussion about how to proceed...there was no time for that. "But his blood has glued him to it, so begin rinsing and soaking him, Roe. Jorin, see if you can get his boots off. Josy, clean up his arm...those gashes look pretty deep. I'll investigate his head wound."

Jorin did as she instructed, and then had to cut off his trousers to inspect him for more injuries. He was badly bruised around his left ankle, had a few sporadic, minor cuts, and a through-and-through arrow wound in his upper right thigh, but when he opened Ron's shirt...

"Oh, Mother of all...look at his chest!"

Cache glanced up from cleaning out the four-inch long gash in Ron's scalp and choked back a sobbing gasp. Josy was already teared up and on the verge of vomiting. Ron's chest was completely purple, with a black 'X' of even worse bruising perfectly outlined from where the seat restraints had halted his body's forward inertia during the crash.

"That is...very bad!" Cache whispered, her mind now running two hundred percent beyond normal speed. The medical tools and other items she'd memorized scrolled through her brain in a flash, first for the particular article she needed, and then in various combinations that might work. "We need a long, small hose," she said to Josy as she noted the blood that had dried on either sides of his mouth.

Rubber hose was not something typical Caronians owned, or had even seen, so she'd turned to the only person who might have knowledge of such a thing. She was immediately taken aback though to see Josy's eyes clearly displaying open horror with her cheeks dripping tears. It made no sense because they had seen more ghastly wounds in several men carried from the battlefield only a day ago, but she didn't have time to solve that riddle. "Josy! Do we have anything like that?"

That got Josy thinking again, separating her focus from the anxiety she was feeling about Ron's obvious suffering.

"No...no. I can't remember any...there's nothing like that here in Gardilane. We need a real med-kit! Something up to date!"

"What's this?" Jorin asked about the box Ron had lashed to the carrier.

No one had noticed it in the rush to examine his body.

"Yes!" Cache cried, dashing to it in great haste and almost swooning from relief.

She had it unstrapped and splayed out on the table next to them in a flash. It was packed with every advanced instrument she could think of for battlefield work. She removed a small disk and tossed it to Josy quickly. Josy triggered the device and placed it on the side of Ron's chest, directly over his left lung. It was a version of a stethoscope that acted like a speaker and allowed everyone to hear the sounds of Ron's haggard breathing. She repositioned it a couple of times and deduced that he was struggling to inflate it, but it was not punctured. His right side was another story. Clear and distinct gurgling sounds were issuing from that side.

"I think we have two, possibly three penetrations!" Josy announced.

Cache was already moving in with a long, flexible device in her hands and a pair of glasses completely shrouding her eyes.

"Roe! Tilt his head back and open his mouth!"

As soon as Roe had complied, she slipped the device into Ron's throat, looking straight ahead as if she could see down inside him by staring out into space, which is exactly what was occurring. She followed that soft, flexible probe past his epiglottis, down his trachea, and turned into his injured lung where the end of the device quickly found the problem.

"You were right, Josy. Three shards of ribs have entered his lung and it is filling with blood. Get the vacuum and attach it. Jorin and Roe...we need you to re-inflate his chest cavity, to pull them back out."

The men looked at each other with confused expressions. Cache immediately saw their hesitation and sprang into action again.

"His chest is compressed...flattened...because his ribs are broken and cannot support the weight of his muscles and sternum. You need to roll him over to his left side...gently...because I am sure those are at least cracked as well, and I will watch to see when the bone fragments retract from his lung.

"First though, we need him out of the stretcher."

They soaked him thoroughly with water, peeling and prying him from the metal webbing of the carrier until he was freed. Next they coordinated their movements quickly so that while the two men lifted Ron's torso completely up, Josy elevated his feet, and Cache snatched the stretcher out from under him.

"What in the Creator's name is this guy made of?" Jorin asked when he and Roe set Ron back down. "It felt like we were lifting two men!"

Roe of course knew exactly why Ron was so heavy, but he just smiled and shrugged. "I don't know, but his knuckles feel like granite!" he said while rubbing his jaw.

Jorin noted the reference with a quick grin, but then it was back to business.

After that feat was accomplished, they simply did as she directed. It was a tense and nerve racking procedure. Very slowly, the two men and Josy rolled Ron as Cache watched through her borescope.

"A little more...more...there...that is good...they are beginning to move," she guided them until Ron was lying on his side, "but...no...no...they did not pull out completely!"

Cache yanked the glasses off her face in frustration, leaving the video tube in place, and her eyes darted everywhere...her mind racing frantically. "We need a hook...a few of them, actually...so we can manually pull his ribcage back into position...but everything is gone! And I do not recall..."

She stopped her mental search the instant her eyes fell across Roe's garb. His woodsman skills were displayed in that outfit...as was his particular quarry.

"That is yetsole cat is it not?" she asked quickly, pointing at his leather clothing.

"Yes," he replied, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Do you have any of the beasts' claws on you as well?"

"Yes!" he told her, suddenly understanding her question and bolting for the wagon.

He snatched his personal pack from the driver's seat and returned holding a string of cat claws that could completely encircle his neck...souvenirs of his kills. They were large enough to grip firmly and hooked enough to work for her idea...and they were plenty sharp!

"Excellent!" Cache told him.

Josy saw what she intended and already had the antiseptic spray in her hand.

Using four of the largest claws, she and Cache felt around carefully for the best places to insert them. They needed to be as close to the breaks as possible, but not so close that they would shove the fragments deeper.

"Can you do this?" Cache asked when she saw that Josy's tan was turning a mildly green color about her face.

Josy did feel nauseous at knowing she was about to hurt Ron even more, but too, she recognized the ramifications of not doing the procedure. "I am ready!" she replied with her jaw clenched tightly.

Without further hesitation, the ladies shoved the tips in and hooked the broken ribs in four, quick and precise moves, ignoring the new streams of blood that leaked from Ron. Cache then swapped back to the viewer as Roe and Josy pulled the bones back out of his lung.

"That did it!" she practically squealed with delightful relief.

Before long she'd sprayed a healing adhesive at the punctures, via that flexible tool, and was sucking out the pooling blood...at which time their patient began to breathe much easier.

There was no regeneration machine, it being hardwired into the ship's systems, so they had to make do with a tight wrapping of cloth to keep everything in position before they moved on.

"Okay, that is the worst of it," Cache announced when he was once again lying on his back. "Josy! Take care of that arm, would you?"

"Right!"

"Roe! Do you know how to reset his shoulder?"

"Got it!"

"Could you get the stretcher cleaned up, Jorin? We will need it to carry him to a bed when we are finished."

Jorin hurried away to the well again, hauling the stretcher beside him while Roelantish put his size sixteen foot up against Ron's armpit and latched onto his wrist with both hands. The women held onto Ron in case he were to react to that action, and then Roe heaved.

Ron wheezed hard, but did not awaken, and his shoulder jumped back into place with a sickening "pop". The girls both felt a strong surge of bile in their throats, but held it in check.

"Thank you, Roe," Cache said after a forced swallow of that acidic mixture. She then moved on to his head wound, but kept an eye on her partner's progress.

"How bad are those, Josy?" she asked when she saw her splaying open the tears in his skin.

"They're deep, but not to the bone, and I can't see any tendon damage."

"Good," Cache replied in a sighing release. She rinsed and scrubbed his scalp for a while longer before she was sure she had it all clear. "His head took a bad blow, but it too is not life threatening."

Cache dug out and shared a tube of bacteria killing compound with Josy and they slathered it into Ron's open wounds. Following that, they celebrated their fortune once more because the kit contained a wonderful surgical adhesive they were both familiar with, which greatly aided them in closing up Ron's scalp and the cuts to his arm. That material, by itself, would speed his healing tenfold over sewing him up.

The four deep punctures in his shoulder, from the kryate's canines, missed his bones by a miracle of chance positioning. Also, they didn't have any ripping features...the creature dying too quickly...so Cache merely scrubbed them out with a swab and sprayed synthaskin over them as well.

By sundown, Ron was lying comfortably in bed, in his hut, and the stress of the nightlong worry and the day's reality finally caught up with them all.

"I need a drink!" Roe announced heartily, slapping Jorin on the back affectionately and leading him to the wagon where his gear was still packed.

The women both sat beside the bed, drained completely, and lost in their own thoughts. After another few borts went by, Cache began to shake uncontrollably and promptly broke down in tears. The last day and a half had seen her world thrown into utter turmoil. Firstly, the elation of being reunited with Ron had sent her emotions soaring, but just as quickly came the panic and horror of the battle with the flood of gravely wounded men. Right behind that raced the worry of not knowing the fate of her heart-song...and with almost no sleep to mend her frazzled nerves was the final, dramatic rescue and relief of having him back. She was an emotional wreck, so Josy came over to her and they held each other for a long time.

"I am sorry, Josy," Cache finally said, when her thoughts grew clearer again. "I have done nothing but worry about Ron for so long that I have not even thought about your man, Ronin. Have you heard anything at all? Is he safe?"

The precarious position they were in had not eluded Josy for a lita, and she saw no reason to add to Cache's anxiety, so she just smiled a sweet smile.

"Yes. Roelantish saw him this very day...he's fine! Don't think of it...just try to relax."

She left Cache kneeling at Ron's bedside and went to the wagon to get more bedding. That little Raulden physician would need something to lie on too, and it was quite apparent that she wasn't about to leave his side. Josy's own need to be with him could wait.

"Josy, we need to get moving!" Roe said softly to her when he saw what she was doing.

"I think not!" she returned...her eyes aflame with indignation. "Did you not see the blood in his urine? His kidneys are damaged, and Cache said she's certain his liver is bruised! There's no telling how many other organs are also. If it weren't for the advanced treatments and tools of the Kreete med kit, he'd surely be dead, and I'm not totally certain he still won't perish. If it were anyone else, I'd have given up hope already. As it is though, even 'he' will be unable to travel for at least a couple of days!"

Jorin and Roe exchanged looks, and then turned to her once more.

"We don't have a couple of days!" Jorin told her sternly. "Even if Shartae has destroyed that ship, their superiors will be following up on this raid when they don't return. The Kreete will be here soon! I'm amazed they're not here now!"

"It doesn't matter! You can ask Cache...she's the doctor here that you trust, but she will tell you the same thing. His ribs have to begin mending first, or they will just tear into his lung again!"

Cache had just emerged from Ron's tiny hovel to take care of her own bodily needs...the baby taking up more and more of her internal room these days, and there was fire in her eyes. She'd clearly overheard the last bit of their conversation; the quiet of the area making it hard to miss.

"Are you insane?" she asked the two men with her teeth clenched in fury. She approached the group then with renewed energy and disdain. "I will not force him to travel! Josy is absolutely correct! It is out of the question!"

"We could haul him in that floating basket!" Jorin said to them both, substantially more subdued this time in the face of such wrath. "It will be as safe as that bed!"

"But the power supply is nearly drained," Josy interjected. "It won't last another forty-five borts. How far will that get us?"

"You all should go!" Cache announced at that moment, feeling no more need to argue. She was too tired, distraught, and angry...and was in no mood to barter.

The trio turned as one and stared at her pointedly.

"What?" Roe asked, clearly offended at her tone. He met a glare as hard as steel.

She knew Flash was about and would see to it that they were safe...but she couldn't tell them about that.

"I will stay behind and care for Ron! Josy, go with them and be with your mate! I will find protection here, and if the Kreete come, I will get him into the sled and hide in the forest until they leave. If it is just the two of us, we should have a good chance to go unnoticed. We did it once before...on my homeworld."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Roe scolded her as if she were a child. "We must go...now! You listen..."

"Do not ever speak to me like that, Roelantish Sonebane!" Cache demanded of the man who stood nearly a foot and a half taller than her, and was easily three times her weight. She instantly pressed up to him as if she were going to punch him, her finger jabbing him in the chest. "How dare you? HOW DARE YOU?"

Josy and Jorin couldn't help from taking a half step back from that furious little mother in waiting.

"You talked me into a scheme of yours once, and I listened to you," she practically screamed at him, her small fists suddenly pounding against his barrel chest. "We both know how 'that' worked out!

"He saved your life...and you very nearly threw his away...no matter the intent! Not again! Never again! I will not leave him...I will not hurt him...I will not trick him EVER again! 'You' are not part of this decision, and 'that' is final! I will do what 'I' think is right this time!"

Her words were sharper than any blade he'd ever faced and dredged up tremendous shame and deep regret in Roe, and so he backed off instantly, his head lowered, and took that verbal lashing that was long overdue. He hadn't felt a more thorough beating in his entire life...even counting the one Ron had given him. These new wounds went through and through.

When it was over, and he saw Jorin about to continue the quarrel, he held up his hand to stop him.

"She is right!" he admitted with a long pause. "We should not endanger his life to save ourselves. Ron Allison has done more for Caron than any other person in our history. He has waged war countless times to protect everyone else when he could have been safe all along. This is not his fight, not even his world, yet he is the one who lies near death because he would give his life at any time to protect another's.

"It is now time for us to return the favor. Jorin, take the horse and ride for the men. Bring them back! This is where we will make our stand!"

### Chapter Twenty-two

### The Battle of Gardilane

Just after midday on the day after Ron's miraculous reappearance, the town of Gardilane received some unwanted guests. Fourteen advance scouts...traveling light and in complete camouflage...slipped into the area through the natural cover of the thick forests that surrounded the town and the gladiator training camp. They were the eyes and ears of a coming army, and they made their way as covertly as possible.

The main body of the Kreete attack force arrived a billot later when those forward soldiers announced to their commanders that all was clear...there was no sign of any enemy militia in the town.

That force of Kreete soldiers was huge, and could be heard half a billot away...the ground vibrating from the pounding footsteps of their animals and the weight of their transports. Normally, it would have been preferred to ferry them over by troop transport, to expedite their arrival, but this day they traveled by treen-drawn chariot. They elected that method because of the fact that two aircraft had already been lost in the effort to investigate the town, due to some reasons that were as yet undetermined. Those in charge didn't have the clearance to utilize further resources until a full accounting of that mishap had been finalized.

Treage was informed by his command center the morning after the aerial battle and was furious...immediately ordering those crafts found. Four two-man scout ships blasted around the countryside for several billots, only to locate the yacht spread across a jagged mountainside. The preliminary investigation revealed its flight recorder data showing total engine failure as they hit some sheering winds in the hilly countryside. The shuttle was spotted further away buried in a riverbank with evidence of a great deal of animal activity in and around the ship. Too, there was so much blood on the deck of the cockpit and cabin that they didn't even bother to investigate it further. If anyone had survived, they were more than likely killed by the beasts...otherwise they would have set off the emergency beacon immediately.

Treage himself, who'd been summoned to Pigonta unexpectedly less than a week in the past, was forced to operate with secondhand information from his subordinates in Gratoon...the ones he'd left to carry on in his absence. Now, with the loss of Dekin Lapscon and his soldiers however, the officer next in rank was forced to requisition extra troops be sent to him. He was doing his best at coordinating the covert Kreete retaliation of the incident north of Gardilane without raising suspicions up the line of rank. The failed raid would have been a bad enough black mark against Treage's leadership, even though he was away at the time, but the loss of those two ships caused even more of a mounting embarrassment.

Treage made it perfectly clear then, that his Gratoon liaison was to tell no one of the failure of that first operation...not wanting it widely known until he could return to investigate it for himself. Toward that end he used his waning influence to have this new detachment of warriors simply moved from another assignment to this one, with no reason given. And he offered no warning that the rebel army they hunted for had already ambushed a Strike Team "and" their support ships. Treage's orders for the incoming troops were simple and direct..."Capture a few, kill the others, and destroy the town!"

Treage demanded this extreme reprisal, fully aware that the likelihood of anyone still being in the area was remote. He even sent out seven other, smaller teams to blanket that general section of the wild province of Vostrol, hoping at least one would make contact with the enemy. He had nothing to do then but wait for the results.

That's where Eerin Theege came into the picture. He was the Slayer class Septuagent commander of the Siege of warriors dressed in battle armor (protection that covered their limbs as well as their torso) Treage sent in without prior knowledge of the disappearance of the initial Strike Team.

They searched Gardilane all afternoon, through every home, hut, storage building, woodshed, and any other structure that might hide a man. They scoured the training facility as well. They found nothing.

Eerin set up camp as normal, in a large open field to the east of the town, with the usual guards stationed about the perimeter. By sundown the village of Gardilane was ablaze, but the only outward signs of just where the people had gone were the dozens of wagon tracks that went in every direction from the place. It was obvious, they were long gone!

The Slayer class leader stood watching from the center of his encampment, on the grassy knoll where Ron's hover-stretcher had glided downhill from out of the forest. He'd just reported his men's findings to Treage, via radio, and now contemplated his next move while gazing at the starry sky.

Which direction would be the most logical to take up pursuit of his prey? He wasn't looking forward to a long, boring scavenger hunt across the wilderness for the so-called 'rebels'. His orders were to begin the search as soon as possible and to report in each day by sundown, or sooner if he had news...but he doubted he would find anything. The "supposed" army of the Caronians was probably scattered to the winds by now.

That thought just concluded in his mind when he felt a sudden, sharp blow to his back, right where the metal plate was...the one specifically designed to protect him. That impact had enough force to push him forward two steps, but that wasn't what truly alarmed him. What did fill his face with surprise and concern was the long, steel arrow...or was it a spear...that protruded a foot and a half from his chest...and dripped with his blood. He would have called for help at that instant, but a wooden arrow abruptly added to his problems by skewering his thick neck.

"Flarge scum!" he growled as his body fell forward...and then his face was buried in the deep grass.

The treen that the Kreete army had utilized to arrive so quickly were all well-secured in the town's stables and corrals, safely away from the fires. That was one of the preliminary targets of the humans because they didn't want to face those beasts in warfare. They were too fast, too vicious, and too hard to kill. The scouts guarding the animals fell quickly to the heavy bows as well, and then a thousand men crept down from the wooded perimeter in a circular pattern like a closing noose.

Treage had dispatched an entire Siege of troops this time, three hundred and forty three warriors...overkill for such rabble as they were certain they faced. They were Kreete...heavily armed and superiorly trained. They searched for a group of pathetic, unskilled farmers with no experience in combat and no real weapons...an army that was long gone by now and terrified of their masters' wrath.

That outlook led to foolhardy complacency, and cost them dearly.

Three quarters of the slag army were deeply involved with the fun of the fiery demolition of the town, and the rest were either off duty or assigned to other tasks. Because of such carelessness, by the time the first alarm was sounded, they were mostly congregating in a well-lit killing zone, and were outnumbered three to one. On top of that, most of the scouts had discarded their armor due to the heat!

Arrows flew from the rebel archers in waves, between the flaming homes, from the darkness of the woods, and even from some brave souls who surged forward wanting a more gratifying, and more perilous confrontation.

The attacking bowmen kept moving, staying out of reach of the scouts' deadly long swords and in the shadows as much as possible, therefore only a few fell to the crossbows of the Kreete. Sweeping patrols followed them in with axes and swords, finishing off the wounded soldiers and triple-teaming any still deadly scouts.

In the middle of that hellish night of brutality, two women crouched in the darkness of the deep forest with the man they both adored lying between them as still as death. Cache and Josy had taken Ron's unconscious figure out into the woods and down into a tight little hollow that was accessible from only one direction. They each had two crossbows and their personal arsenals of swords and daggers, which Roelantish had been quite impressed with when he left them there. Those two feisty ladies refused any armed guards when he offered, knowing that every man would likely be needed for the battle.

There in the deepest dark of the shadowy night they waited, barely breathing as the time ticked away. It was impossible for them to hear exactly what was transpiring in the town, it being too far away, but they could just barely see the glowing fires emanating from it and hoped for the best. It had been six billots since they first nestled there, and they dared not converse for fear of discovery, so the time seemed interminable, but they really had no choice.

Finally though, as they waited out the long borts of uncertainty, wishing for a messenger to come for them, a set of sounds did make it to their proximity...but not what they wanted to hear. Something out there was sniffing and grunting.

Josy peered at Cache through the darkness, scarcely able to see the dark-skinned woman five feet from her, and saw her looking back with the same wonder in her eyes.

"What was out there?" the both pondered as their anxieties escalated.

The grunting soon changed to growling and that began to get louder and louder. Some type of animal was drawing near. The tension mounted quickly, and after another couple of borts dragged by, one of the creatures emerged at the upper crest of the little depression, standing out in the moonlight of Cartha, Caron's largest natural satellite. It was a Kreete boarhound! The beasts were used to root-out escapees and hiding slaves during raids and such, and it had found them.

Cache, Josy, and Ron were well beyond the Caronian army's ring, and therefore the animals hadn't caught scent of the men...and since this low-lying area wasn't part of the attack zone, the men hadn't seen the animals either. Now it was a dangerous predicament that the women found themselves in, and each of them readied herself for a fight.

The hound let out a long, bellowing howl and, to the women's dismay, was soon answered by at least six more. Cache and Josy hastily laid out their arrows for ease of reach, pulled their swords free, and waited again. This time however, they would have preferred the boredom.

It was only a few moments before three of the enormous dogs started into the hollow, followed by the approaching sounds of the others. Their deep, menacing growls forced a shiver up the spines of both Cache and Josy, and then an astonishing series of events occurred nearly all at once.

The women's two crossbows sent their deadly cargoes on their way, while two more loaded weapons were lifted to the ready. Simultaneously, a tremendously vicious fight erupted above them...out of their sight-line.

One of the giant dogs retreated from the arrow's painful strike, one huddled down with a sharp yelp, and one attacked straight on. The strumming of the bows rang out again through the dark night and the charging animal felt the twin missiles slam into its chest. That halted the beast's assault as it writhed in the brush, but the one that had hesitated now came at them and forced a daring move on the part of the women.

Cache let fly with one of her personal throwing blades (a matched pair Jorin had given her after she showed him how proficient she was with such a device) and then she held up her sword. Josy watched that toss meet its target as she dashed forward in a charge of her own. Her duel short blades crossed in a defensive posture that took the full brunt of the huge dog's attack, catching the savage creature just under its jaws, and put an end to the beast's faltering attempt at them.

She stood in front of Cache and Ron then, no longer dressed in her usual light, cool garb that gave sensual delight to the men around her, but rather in full-length, heavy leathers. Her battle-gear bore chain-mail draping from her helmeted head to protect her neck and torso, metal gauntlets over her forearms and shins, and even a lightweight shield. She stood valiantly in the path of any assailants, her beautiful jaw clamped tightly and willing to meet whatever else might be coming down that hill...the fires of battle were stoked and ready. Karne Gitove had taught his daughter well!

Time drifted by peacefully after that however, and all the typical nighttime sounds eventually returned to the forest, yet she stayed with her ears perked and her eyes wide, constantly scanning. After about twenty borts of extreme vigilance however, Josy carefully retreated to her previous position and reloaded her bows...the will to defend her charges still high.

Cache made no sound, but was immensely thankful, and very impressed with her carriage as they took up their watch again.

In the town, the Kreete began to fall back in desperation and mad chaos ensued, but when they reached the main road through Gardilane, Jorin and his mounted policemen greeted them from both directions. At full gallop like the earthly knights of old, their steel-tipped lances easily cut through the armored soldiers and split the "superior" troops into smaller groups again. By the time the horsemen finished ravaging their attempt at regrouping, more of the heavy arrows were in position to cut them down. Another five-hundred frenzied men then poured out from the nearby forest and met the scouts in a tremendous blade-to-blade battle that lasted only another fifteen borts. When the carnage finally abated, the town of Gardilane, what was left of it, returned once again to Caronian control.

A roaring cheer echoed around the still flaming village as the victors celebrated their hard won battle. They reveled in the fortune of still breathing air, as well as basked in the glory of their first real "planned" battle with the enemy.

Rasche, Roelantish, Jorin, and the other commanders let them rejoice for a while, still amazed their plan had worked so well.

The fervor didn't last very long though before the men were pulled back to reality from the groans and screams of their own wounded, and as the adrenaline rush abated, so too did their joy. This was merely the first hurdle of what was to come, and many more would fall, so much of the remainder of the night was spent reorganizing for the future.

The soldiers of this new army worked well together, at last seeing the result that the mighty Ronin had hoped they would. If they relied on each other and held to their commitment, there was little they couldn't conquer. Those hearty souls proved it again as they combed the town for their missing men while an armed escort of two dozen went to fetch their badly needed healers, Cache and Josy, and to carry their great warrior back to town.

Once all injured soldiers were moved to the new triage center, the rest of the army stripped every conceivable item they could find from the Kreete. The armored vests and back plates would work quite well as shields for the men, and the enormous shields the enemy scouts carried could be reworked into a multitude of new weapons.

One other boon was the commandeering of the heavy chariots, as well as the treen. Now, they had some real speed!

### Chapter Twenty-three

### Ronin Lives

When the new day was fully underway, the three female doctors finally found time for a break after that long and tension-filled night.

"Josy, dear," Mishea said, "you and Cache should come with me. Jarle has arranged a meal for us over at Rasche's tent, and I know we all could use the rest."

"I will be along shortly," Cache replied, gazing across the meadow toward the west.

Josy knew what she was thinking and wanted to go with her, but made the heart-wrenching decision to keep her distance for the moment and headed off with her mother instead to enjoy the well-earned breakfast. After all, Ron was still unconscious and she, her mother, and Cache...along with two male doctors...had worked through the night as the primary medical support, and were exhausted and famished.

Cache stroked her swollen belly as she walked over to check on Ron, feeling a bit guilty for not staying constantly at his side, but knowing her healing skills were needed elsewhere.

There were eight guards patrolling around him at all times, a voluntary duty that was much revered, and rotated every two billots to make sure the men were fresh and alert. The Caronian army would not take a chance with the safety of their ferocious leader. The men noted her approach and stepped aside smoothly, offering a smile to the lovely physician.

"Good morning, Marson...Graf," she said politely. "Any change?"

"No, Mistress Cache. He is as still as...he is sleeping."

Cache dismissed his dire comparison and slipped by the men who then took up their watch once again. Ron Allison would not die...and that was that!

He lay in a simple structure...not much more than a crude tent in fact...that allowed the morning air to sift past him in a sweet, refreshing waft of woodsy smells. The small abode his admirers set up for him sat far away from the noise of the camp, arranged purposefully in that cozy little spot so he could have his rest without too much interference.

She combed the area with her eyes, seeing a vast assortment of gifts all about, most of which were some good-luck charms the donors held in high regard. She found a plate full of fruit that someone had left for the god-like warrior, in the off-chance that he would awaken, and couldn't resist her growling stomach, munching on some of it while checking his injuries for infection.

He was doing well and sleeping peacefully, so she sat beside him for a while...feeling the need just to be near him.

Cache found the peace and quiet to be overwhelming however, and before long her head lay next to Ron's shoulder as fatigue took hold.

"Where am I?" came a question sometime later on, as a grating, hoarse whisper escaped Ron's lips.

Her head sprang up instantly and her heart raced like a thoroughbred's at the starting gate.

"Ron?" she cried, tears immediately draining down her lovely, fuzz-covered cheeks...tears of joy.

She leaned into him and pressed her face firmly to his good shoulder, the pounding of her heart thrumming in her ears. She wanted desperately to hug him and hold him tight, but his injuries prevented such actions.

"Cache?"

"Yes, Ron...it is me! I am here! You are safe! How do you feel?"

"Like I just went a few rounds with a twelve foot greel...bare-handed!"

"I was so worried, Ronald Allison!" she scolded him like his wife used to do when he'd done something too daring. "When I heard that you went after that yacht in a 'shuttle'...I...! Do you not know what your death would mean to us?"

Ron couldn't see the way she stroked and cuddled the tiny life in her womb, he being too busy taking inventory of his horrible condition. He merely assumed she referred to the Caronian army.

"I just saw an opportunity...and took it!" he said to her easily, with his usual smile, as if he'd just run out for a quick cup of coffee, not attacked a ship which surely should have easily destroyed him. "I couldn't let them radio for help! We'd have been finished for sure! Did everyone get away safely? Where are we?"

"Stay calm. We did evacuate before they attacked, but when you were delivered to us on the cusp of death's door, I could not allow you to be moved, so the army you built returned and engaged the Kreete to protect you."

"They did what?"

"Ron, we won! We destroyed an entire Kreete Siege! Three hundred and forty-three battle-ready Kreete soldiers!"

Ron' expression quickly changed from horror to elation. His troops had done that? They were finally ready.

"How many casualties?" he asked quickly, his mind returning to the reality of war.

"Less than a hundred dead...two-hundred and forty three wounded," Cache answered cautiously, not wanting him to take on the burden of their deaths for his protection.

"A hundred men for me?" he asked, not believing such a staggering loss.

"No, Ron, not just for you! This battle was inevitable! It had to happen eventually...your incapacitation was merely the catalyst to make it be now...here on our familiar ground. All the leaders are ecstatic! This is a tremendous victory!"

It took a while for that to quell his obvious regret at the cause of the conflict, but then he returned to his situation.

"How long have I been out, that I could have missed all that?"

"I have no way of knowing how long you were in the stretcher, but you have been unconscious here since day before yesterday, and as for where you are...we are only a hoz from where Gardilane once stood. The Kreete burned it down before we attacked them."

"Have the wounded men all been treated? You shouldn't waste your time on me if they..."

She put her hand up to stop his concern. "All are treated and are well cared for, and I am not due back for another couple of billots, so please, relax. Let me take your vitals. In case you have not noticed, 'you' are one of the injured as well."

She took great care to be gentle with his examination while he lay back and admired that little Raulden woman...a peaceful, relaxed smile resting firmly on his face. She returned his smile as she worked on him, so relieved to see him recovering...so happy to see him smile, so much in love with that incredible man, and wanting to finally share the news of what they were going to be blessed with.

"How are you feeling?" Ron asked softly, reaching up to lightly stroke her extended belly while she hovered over him.

"Wonderful!" she gleamed back at him. "It is so amazing, Ron! I cannot even begin to describe it! This little person, who seems to be trying to actually run around in there sometimes, is just too precious to put into words!"

"Jorin must be extremely proud!" Ron told her with a slight hint of sorrow in his voice.

"Oh...yes. I think we should talk about that."

"You don't have to explain anything, Cache. I don't blame you for finding someone, especially since I...oh, my God!" Ron said, suddenly sitting up with a powerful gasping wince.

Cache practically jumped from fear that he would damage himself more, and tried to push him back down.

"Were you pregnant in Tabey?"

"Ron, please...please lay back! Stay calm!"

"Were you?"

"Yes, but you could not have known...and we are fine!"

Now it was Ron's turn to have salty drops drain freely from his eyes. He fell back prone then...limp...his former shame at his actions suddenly doubled and his expression spoke volumes.

"I'm so sorry! Please forgive me...no, no...don't...you should not. I..."

Cache reached out and covered his mouth with her dainty hand.

"Stop, Ron!" she told him softly, yet firmly, as she leaned down very close. "You did not know. You did not hurt our child. That is over and done with. We must start again...remember?"

Ron was still unable to forgive himself for his actions, but her smile and her voice...so close to him now, began to loosen the noose of dishonor he'd condemned himself to.

"You are so compassionate...so understanding...and so beautiful. I envy Jorin very much! He is truly a fortunate man."

"Now, we 'have' to get this settled," Cache began to say.

"Ronin!" came an excited cry from behind them...from one of the guards. "Look, everyone! Ronin is awake!"

Cache had heard that name so many times that she turned instantly to at last see who this man was that he could command so much respect, so much honor, so much admiration, and the heart of her new-found friend, Josy.

She looked blankly at the throng of people stopping whatever they were doing and rushing at the place where she was standing...and she was confused. She unconsciously stepped back out of the way as so many well-wishers flooded in, but saw no newcomer she didn't recognize. Without meaning to, they quickly edged her away from the man who was the center of her existence, and she was swiftly carried away to the outer rim of the crowd.

That is when her heart began to sink. And when the crowd parted to allow Josylinia Gitove to rush to Ron's bedside and into his open arms, she felt her world collapsing.

### Chapter Twenty-four

### The Plan

For the remainder of the day, Cache forced herself to stay away from the man she so desperately wanted to be next to. What was she supposed to do now? Should she confront the couple and drop the bomb of her child's heritage on them just to try and break them up? Or should she remain silent and never even hope to be with Ron again?

She went to Roelantish and bombarded him with questions about just what had been going on since Ron's miraculous escape from Gratoon's arena. Roe hesitantly spoke through much of the evening. She heard a repeat of the story of how Josy and her family had found Ron, risked so much in aiding him, and then lost everything due to their efforts. She pressed him about the relationship between Josy and Ron only to hear him reluctantly admit just how captivated she was with him and he with her.

By nightfall she was even more confused as to her plan of action. How could she try and take back this incredible, immutable, glorious man...the man of her dreams...from the very woman who brought him back from certain death? And Josy had performed an even more extraordinary feat of returning him from the nearly inhuman beast the Kreete had driven him to, back to his old self. She owed that brunette goddess so much, yet couldn't bear to consider giving him up without a fight...and what of their child? Who would be her father...her shield of strength...her male influence?

As she laid her head down that night, it pounded from the stress...and the loss...and the sorrow. She held onto the growing life inside her and its tiny shifts of movements calmed her. Ron Allison's child resided inside her body! Somehow she knew at that moment that his uncanny, almost startling luck was now part of her as well. Things would work out.

Time...no...fate would eventually peel back the layers of uncertainty that threatened to smother her, and reveal its plan for her. But for right now, her baby needed its mother to rest.

The burgeoning sunlight brought with it a new mission, and as fires burned for the breakfast meals, the army prepared to move out once more. Miraculously, Ron was on his feet again, meandering through the camp stiffly, thanking the men and letting them know how proud he was to be among them.

Cache and Josy ran into one another in the hospital tent and Josy tried to approach her, but Cache impolitely spun on her heel and veered off to another area. Josy did not pursue her, feeling she needed time to adjust. There was much to do, so they each stayed quite busy with preparing the newly treated patients for transport to a place of seclusion and safety in the south.

Meanwhile, the rest of the army prepped for a long march to the west.

Cache had to make some alert moves to avoid Ron's stunning lover, but soon they were finished with their patients and each went off to see to their own belongings and packing. Roelantish assisted Cache with her wagon and tied his horse to it, to ride with her so she wouldn't be alone, since this time Jorin was forced to be with his men.

Roe had seen her reaction to Ron's relationship with Karne's daughter and understood her emotional stress...they had once been lovers...but was confused by it as well because of her bonding with the Caronian captain. Whatever the cause, her expression was strained, and so he did his best to divert her attention from the obvious pain she endured.

The main help she got though was the fact that Ron was up and about constantly, ignoring her orders to lie still for another day to give his bones more time to knit back together. He had simply smiled down at her with a grin she knew was his sweet way of saying, "NO!" He was busy conversing and planning the march, so rest was not part of his agenda.

Not seeing Josy and him together also gave her a bit of respite from the overriding thoughts which had settled into a grinding loop in her mind, and so she willingly engaged in conversation with Roe. She was truly grateful that he was trying so hard.

They spoke about the next stop for the army, and what they were going to do if the shield didn't initiate to aid them.

"I cannot say, Cache," Roe admitted. "Ron is dreadfully worried that our little uprising will be crushed before we can really get it started, and the Kreete will no doubt be organizing again when they find another force has been destroyed. And the next time they will be prepared, I assure you."

That put a little bug in Cache's brain, and for the rest of the day's travel she kept scanning her vast knowledge of electronics and communication to finally focus in on a far-fetched possibility.

The convoy pressed hard down well-worn roads and was forty hoz away from Gardilane by twilight's coming. That was where the wounded men would turn southeast and away from the army's intended course.

That evening, as the multitude began to prepare for their supper, Cache saw Ron walking slowly about the widespread, wooded encampment...checking on how everyone was holding up. They were cautious to stay out of sight of any overhead surveillance, and spread out very wide. Each group was careful to keep their fires covered and as small as possible, and sentries were set two hoz away in every direction.

"Hi, Cache," Ron said as she approached. "That little package holding up all right?"

She smiled back at him and ran her hand over her belly. "Yes, fine."

"If you're looking for Jorin, he's off to the northeast with Rasche and his men.

"No, I spoke with him earlier. He will be very busy for a while, his duties doubling since Rasche was wounded."

"Oh, yeah, that's right. How's 'he' doing?"

"Fine...he will be up on his feet again in a day or two. It was not life threatening. Ron, could I have a moment?" Cache asked as she glided up next to him.

"Anytime! What is it?"

"We need to speak in private," she whispered to him when they were close.

Ron glanced about carefully before they headed off to a remote stand of trees, and once there he sat down gingerly...still nursing his tender ribs.

"Will Josy be looking for you?"

"No...I think she's on duty for a while longer in the hospital. Why? I can tell that you're hatching some kind of scheme, so out with it."

Over the next two billots, Cache laid out her plan to find out what was going on with the shield. It was risky and fraught with complications that could end in disaster, but it also provided a few unique opportunities...opportunities that could not easily be ignored. As they discussed it all, Ron poked holes in her plans, each of which she had already considered and so easily rebutted, or at least acknowledged the uncertainty of them. He tried to add a couple of caveats that she reluctantly denied. One was for protection. Ron wanted to either go with her, or send Roe and a detail of soldiers, but they both knew that neither would work if she were to be completely successful.

"I will not need anyone, Ron," she told him squarely, with no sign of fear or worry.

He just looked at her with open perplexity. "How can you even think...?"

"How did you get to Gardilane...from the crash, I mean?"

"You mean, Flash? I don't know. I don't know how he found me. I just assumed that my unbelievable luck had done it again. Why?"

Cache smiled her brightest, most mischievous smile and her eyes sparkled in the rising moonlight.

"Wait a bort! How is it that he was there anyway? Do you know something I don't?"

She grinned wildly and shrugged her shoulders, thrilled to have pulled one over on him.

"How long has he been with you?" Ron asked as the light of understanding finally illuminated in his mind.

"Since you were brought into Huinrag. He picked up our scent, and that of the Hellions, a week after you were captured, and followed us to Huinrag. He prowled the area until I left that fortress, at which time he made his presence known to me, and has shadowed my every move since then."

"But how? Why?"

"He considers you as his family, and since I was your...'mate'...as he thinks of me, and you once asked him to watch over me, he has taken it quite literally. That is how I was able to follow you around your venues when you were moved. He could tell by your scent when the Kreete hauled you from place to place."

"But they took me by treen-drawn wagons. How could you follow? A horse can't possibly match those animals, even with such a light load, and if he stayed with you for protection, even he couldn't follow a week-old trail in the heavily travelled areas."

"The very first time...I rode on his back..."

"You what?" Ron asked, feeling that his brain would burst at the thought. "You rode on the back of a Redalien tracker?"

"Yes, but that scared me so much..."

"No shit!" Ron huffed, drawing a giggle from Cache.

"that I searched out a new mode of transport. I procured a very small chariot made from a racing type they use in the arena games, devised a harness which slipped around his front shoulders, and he towed me."

Ron just shook his head at the unbelievable determination of that woman.

"At first, I thought I was mad for even thinking it, but when he got the mental picture of what I was considering, he offered. We have traveled like that many times. We always made our journeys at night, following after the Kreete, and it was very exciting...terrifying at times, actually, but he really seemed to like it.

"That is how he knew where I was and just what to do with you a few days ago."

Ron was completely at a loss for words, letting the explanation sink into his thoughts. He remembered the chariot ride to Gruinshawe, drawn by a pair of treen, but couldn't even imagine the speed she'd experienced.

"That must have been a heck of a ride...even in a chariot! Wait a lita! What about the boy...the one from the arena that gave me the food? It was always the same boy!"

"He is an orphan from Sartsisen. His parents both died as slaves to the Kreete and so I took care of him for a while. He was in the chariot with me, but I always made sure that he slept through the trip with a little concoction in his drink before we left. He is a wonderful, bright young man, and absolutely loved animals, so after Gratoon, I left him at a farm that needed a stable-hand. The place was well maintained and the owners were very happy to have him. Their own son had been taken from them at about his age."

Ron thought of that young man fondly...he having been so important to his survival in those horrid days. Then his mind returned to the present. Is Flash around here now?"

"Yes. Not close enough to be seen, or for me to pick up his thoughts, but...well, let me see.

She glanced about quickly before..."Flash! Flash!"

From off to their front, right-side direction, a sharp grunt issued from the shadows of the woods. Ron could not resist, and groaned to his feet before he moved off to that spot, followed closely by Cache. They were well away from the main group and so when he approached the point of his target, he called out.

"Flash! Where are you, boy?"

For an answer, the pup nuzzled the back of his leg, forcing a jump of surprise from the extremely accomplished woodsman.

"Geez!" Ron hissed as he spun about, completely taken off guard. "How the..."

"Ron...well?"

"Better," Cache answered vocally. "Thank you, Flash, for bringing him to me...and for the other night."

"What happened the other night?" Ron jumped in.

"Beasts...in forest. Not too late?"

"No. You were just in time!"

She turned to Ron, "He was patrolling the forest on the night of the Gardilane battle, and heard these huge dogs catch our scent. He got there just before we were overrun."

"Who exactly were 'we'?"

"Josy and I were watching over you...out in the forest."

Ron just shook his head yet again, clearly at his wits end. "What were you two thinking? Why didn't Roe put a guard...?"

"I told him not to. I knew Flash would look after us, and he could do a lot better than any men...especially in the dark. Besides...'We' did quite well for ourselves!"

Ron reached up and scratched the young tracker's head at that, and then eased down to his knees to pet the pup, which was now lying on the ground at their feet. "I wanted to thank you too, for your magnificent timing back at the shuttle!"

"Fun!" they both heard from the tracker.

"How did you know how to find me?" Ron asked after a moment, suddenly realizing that the creature couldn't possibly have seen the ship go down from Gardilane.

"Saw you...in box. Followed sounds. Saw smoke from broken box."

Ron recalled seeing a small stand of trees erupting in flames before the ship hit the riverbank and he blacked out.

"I can understand you much better now," Ron said to the huge, hideous creature, speaking as if Flash were his childhood dog. "How is that?"

"Cache. Learn from her."

"Have you been getting enough game around here?" Ron inquired. "Are you hungry?"

"Four dogs good...two nights ago. Full."

Cache gulped hard at the thought of him making a midnight meal from those horrible beasts that had attacked her and Josy.

Suddenly, the tracker's head spun about and he disappeared deeper into the woods before Ron and Cache could say a thing. Ron heard a snapping twig a few moments later and watched the point of that noise.

"Ron?" called Josy; "I have your supper ready!"

Ron made a sign for Cache to stay put and he strolled out to meet her.

"Okay, thanks."

"What are you doing out here?"

"Just went for a short walk to relieve myself."

They vanished into the shadowy night almost immediately, and after a short while Cache returned to her own accommodations and had a meal as well. She pushed the sight of Ron and Josy walking arm in arm out of her mind and concentrated on her new mission. She hoped very much that she was wrong...for Ron's sake.

The following morning they were all on their way again, with the army and its support group heading off west and the caravan of injured troops taking a southerly turn. The plan was to get the wounded away and safe, and then double back to rendezvous with the main contingent at the designated point.

Mishea had gone ahead with the first wave of injured troops and they were already nicely established in the tiny village of Snake Bend, well out of any normal Kreete patrol areas. As the present caravan steered its way there, they were met by Neidar, returning to make sure Josy was all right...by orders of their mother. They heard about the reversal of the army but were too far along to turn back...plus, the men in their care didn't need a longer journey to suffer through. They opted to continue onward and set up the med station...feeling confident that it would be much needed as the looming conflict escalated.

Cache found reasons to avoid spending time around Josy all that morning, even when she openly asked to have a private conversation.

"All right...at the midday rest period," Cache finally acknowledged as pleasantly as she could manage.

But when that time drew near, she approached the leader of the troops riding as protection for them.

"I am going to break away from the group at the next river, Captain," Cache explained. "I have some relatives living a few hoz upstream and would like to visit them and warn them of what is going on. I should meet up with you all in a week or so."

"Very well. Do you need an escort?"

"No. I know these hills well. I will be fine."

The captain nodded and wished her well, and as the appointed location passed, Cache slipped back and vanished into the wilderness of Caron's mountainous terrain.

### Chapter Twenty-five

### Friend or Foe

Cache Kuar hooked up with the young tracker, Flash, as the line of troops and wagons disappeared around the winding road, and he set a pace out into the wilderness to something manageable by her horses...the animal she rode, as well as the one she towed at the end of a long rope, which also carried her supplies.

One of the most difficult things Cache had found to overcome on Caron, when she first arrived, was interaction with the Caronians' domesticated animals. She had trained on simulations which tried to mimic such beasts, but when the actual creatures had confronted her, their size, smell, mannerisms, and personalities baffled her quite a bit. Now, after almost an entire cycle, she was an accomplished rider and sat a saddle very well, even in the rugged locations she was in and at such a fast rate.

She spent the better part of three days on that mount, only walking when the animals needed rest, so when they at last reached their destination, she was thrilled beyond belief. The constant rocking and swaying of the horse's back was terribly uncomfortable in her condition, as the tiny tot inside reminded her often...not to mention the hundreds of times she had to stop to pee!

Flash had already streaked about the area in an effort to ensure her safety, and she doubted anything could slip past his inspection, so she was frightened not in the least and got started immediately.

After a good stretch and the stripping down of the horses' loads, Cache began a thorough search about the wrecked shuttle.

Ron had several of his one-of-a-kind weapons in and around that place, and she meant to have them back first off. It wasn't difficult to locate them either, since the numerous deceased animals' carcasses had been stripped clean of all flesh. She merely had to sift through a variety of bones to locate the beautiful, blue slivers of metal. The black sword was lying in the sand; in the shadow of the aft end of the ship...as if someone had just laid it down to attend to some other business and forgotten about it. She guessed that whatever scavengers had been there had dragged the dead kryate to that spot for a meal and the weapon was all that remained.

She was certain the Kreete had located and examined the wreckage, but felt they must have overlooked it, or simply had no interest in it...after all, it was far too small and weak-looking for a scout to wield.

She found the scabbard inside the cabin and slipped the two back together with relief in her heart and a silent prayer to the Guardian. That blade had saved her love so many times that even she didn't know the count, and she passed her hands over it respectfully, recalling with vivid clarity the day she presented it to Ron. The ornate short sword was under some loose debris in the cockpit and was also undoubtedly overlooked by the Kreete during their brief inspection of the ship. She then bundled everything up tightly into a pack that she could attach to Flash, via the harness she'd constructed for him, and set that aside.

Her plan was such that when she had the ship patched up enough to use as a shelter, she would send him off to deliver it to Ron. As it stood right now, the mighty 'Ronin' was wielding borrowed blades and she wanted him armed with something she knew would not fail him.

With a sigh of relief, she took stock of the remains of the ship. It was pretty bad, but was not significantly structurally damaged...at least for what she had in mind. A few crumpled areas along the top, the obvious holes in the cockpit glass, and the nose was buried in the bank, but all in all, not too bad for a Kreete vessel that was built to take a beating.

"Well, it could never make it to space, but it just might be salvageable," she said out loud to no one at all...just wanting to hear something to break the almost palpable, silent serenity of the place.

That simple act gave her a tiny bit of perspective of just how isolated her new locale was too, deep into the wilds of the Caronian wilderness. However, she knew isolation had its advantages too, and so she forced herself to stop a moment to take in the setting...it being quite beautiful and ruggedly majestic.

The crash site was along the bank of a wide, shallow, swiftly flowing stream that had cut its way through the steep-sided canyon over the countless millennia. That endless erosion left a forty foot tall cliff of crumbly rock to the east, across the water from the ship, and a sandy, grass-covered, sloping meadow to the west. The deep blue sky was mottled with waves of billowy clouds, all lined up in rows across its wide expanse like horizontal pillars made of gigantic cotton balls. Adding to the picture-perfect day was a fine breeze of clean, sweet-smelling air that tossed her long blonde hair gently as it snaked along hugging the waterway. (Over the last few days, she'd stopped the treatments that kept her hair and skin darkened and returned to her Raulden appearance, feeling that now that the war had begun, she need not hide any further)

She stood there for a while, imagining how wonderful it would be to have Ron at her side in this Eden of solitude and natural splendor...but that was just a fantasy, and she was not one to dwell on such things for very long.

After gathering a good supply of water and having a bite to eat, Cache finally began tearing into the ship's innards, utilizing her intimate familiarity of Kreete-Raulden electronic theory and flight systems to break into the most vital areas of the ship. The obvious problem that had to be resolved first was the lack of electrical power to the ship's systems, so that was where she concentrated her efforts.

The outside breeze was confined to that area though and was unable to quell the rising temperature inside the ship, so she resolved to that fact and drank lots of water, taking breaks immediately when she felt too hot. She hated the delays, but couldn't afford to pass out inside the cabin. Her inner cargo, and her mission, were simply too precious.

A few billots of sweaty work inside that baking shuttle revealed little about the cause of the lack of power. Somewhere in that expansive hull, the conductors from the huge bank of batteries were cut off from the main distribution nodes...but where?

She began tugging at some wiring from a nonessential system, hoping to make a 'jumper cable' to get power to the onboard diagnostic center to help her analyze the problem. But that came to an abrupt halt before she'd even gotten a good start.

"Cache!" she felt pressed into her thoughts, instantly spinning her about.

She rushed to the wide doorway of the ship and peered out.

"Flash! What is it?"

"You were followed! Beware!"

She didn't bother to question him...but simply ran for her stash of gear and hauled out her two crossbows and her sword belt. Once she was back in the safety of the ship, she called out again while she loaded the bows.

"How many?"

"Two. A female and...one of 'them'!"

That really puzzled her since the Kreete rarely ventured out this far into the wilds, preferring the hustle and bustle of city life...and its constant conflict. Peace and tranquility were not what those beings sought out...and to be traveling with a woman seemed extremely strange.

"Direction?"

"South."

"All right then. Stay hidden until I call for you!"

"Should I just kill them?"

Cache though hard about that, but she knew there were some Kreete in the inner circle of the rebellion, so she declined.

"No...not just yet."

Flash vanished like a ghost.

Cache waited at her post inside the boiling shuttle, with her heart racing and her anxiety soaring, hoping they were just some passersby that would drift away without any conflict. That is until they crested a small hill bordering the stream...directly back the way she'd ridden earlier that morning.

It was Josylinia, shadowed closely by a very alert Neidar.

Cache was at first surprised...then angry.

When they approached the ship, Josy called out.

"Cache!"

Cache didn't respond, but her horses were wandering about, loitering in the shallows of the stream, so she knew they would look for her.

Josy dismounted while Neidar stayed where he was, his crossbow readied and his eyes constantly scanning the area. She was wearing her customary halter-top, although it was a simple beige color instead of her normally eye-popping shades, but had adjusted the rest of her attire for the mode of conveyance. She sported full-length riding trousers and calf-high boots, as well as a wide-brimmed hat.

As she strolled casually toward the ship, her head swung slowly one way, then the other. Cache couldn't deny that she was absolutely stunning...and that grated on her as well.

"Cache! It's Josy! Are you all right?"

Cache gave a tug to a fine string she'd prepared when she first arrived. It led out the doorway and to the rear of the ship, some thirty feet away. In that location was a stack of fist-sized stones with one of the lower ones tied to the string. When she pulled it the entire pile shifted and clattered to the turf.

Neidar's watchful demeanor leaped into motion and he swung around and drew down on that point with his loaded crossbow. Josy's head whipped around too, but clearly from being startled...not anything threatening.

Cache stepped out into the brilliant Caronian sunshine abruptly, trying to read their reactions to her.

"Halt!" she ordered as menacingly as her lilting voice and diminutive size could muster.

Her two bows were leveled at them both...one in each hand...and didn't waver in the slightest.

Josy jumped again...and then gasped and froze where she stood, her hands spread to show she was unarmed as her face turned pale from instant shock and fear. Neidar tensed again, his hand moving slightly to bring his weapon around...his military training snapping to action.

"Do not!" Cache ordered, staying his movement.

From where she was, Neidar felt it unlikely that she could kill him with one shot...but Josy, on the other hand, was far too close to miss.

"Who are..." she began, intentionally acting as if she didn't recognize them. She paused for the briefest of instances and then, "Oh, my!" she cried, lowering her weapons without taking her eyes off of the Kreete.

If he moved on her, she knew she could get back into the shuttle and let Flash take care of him. But he didn't threaten her at all. Instead, he returned to his sentry duty...sweeping the riverbank warily as if he could feel another's presence.

"Please forgive me!" Cache pleaded, sounding as sincere as she could even though she was relishing having her plan work so well. "I suppose I am a bit jumpy and I did not recognize you due to the glare off the water."

Josy nearly swooned with relief, her heart racing and her hands at her breast, which was now heaving hard. Cache's jealousy of that gorgeous brunette couldn't be fully hidden, but she tried. She quickly tucked the weapons into the ship and raced out to her rival.

"What in the world are you doing all the way out here?" Cache asked as innocently as she could.

"Just a lita," Josy told her as she fell to her knees, attempting to calm her frazzled nerves. She panted there for a while, trying to get her thoughts back in order. "First thing...I'm sorry we frightened you just now, but I'm happy to see that you are not ignorant in the least of how to defend yourself. That was quite well handled!"

Cache dropped to the ground and knelt beside her, offering some water, which Josy took a large gulp of before explaining.

"At any rate, when you didn't show up for our talk a few days back, I went looking for you. I had the distinct impression that you've been avoiding me since Ron awakened and you found out just who 'Ronin' was."

Cache couldn't argue with that. She was dead on.

"Cache, I truly hate the way that turned out, but I just couldn't find a reasonable time to tell you...in fact, I've been worrying about it continuously since your arrival in Gardilane. I was afraid that the surprise was going to hurt you deeply and I simply didn't want it to. We both have so much respect for you and he cares for you tremendously."

Cache held her tongue and searched through Josy's words and tones to find the truth...skepticism at the forefront of her thoughts.

"Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked. It was nighttime when I finally went to the captain and inquired about your location. That's when he said you were off visiting relatives, so I got concerned. I was more than a little afraid of some sort of devious plot to abduct you, or that something dire may have happened since I know you have no relatives on Caron. I imagined the story was some kind of cover for a possibly ominous act.

"At that time I decided to follow you, and Neidar wouldn't allow me to go alone...mother's orders. The next morning, we set out where the captain said you'd planned to go. Neidar tracked your horses easily, but we got concerned when he spotted some other creature's markings that appeared to parallel yours and occasionally crossed it. We rode hard when we could, hoping to overtake you before something awful happened to you. This area has kryate tracks everywhere, you know."

"Yes, I saw them too, but they must have been scared away by the crash, because I have not seen or heard a single one."

Neidar grunted at that. "They are all around us...their remains at least. Something destroyed their entire pride...a rival group no doubt."

Cache just nodded.

"I will take a look around."

"NO!" Cache snapped, her fear that Flash might attack him causing her to be a bit overzealous.

Neidar and Josy both jumped at her order.

"Forgive me, Neidar, but I could not live with myself if you were ambushed by those brutes while trying to protect me. Please stay here close to the shuttle. We can use its protection if they come.

Neidar grunted again. "I do not fear the beasts," he said as he urged his huge mount into motion, heading for the highest ground in the area.

Cache's stomach tightened until Flash's thoughts reached her. "He will not see me," the pup told her.

"Do not slay him...please!" Cache said back.

"No kill," he replied, allowing her to relax again and refocus her attention to Josy.

"I had no idea that you were going searching for this ship," she was saying, "but now, of course, I see that you did. And along those lines; why have you? The Kreete might send a recovery detail to reclaim it."

"Yes, I know," Cache admitted, "and even though Ron destroyed the locator, I was afraid they might still find it, which they did. They have come and gone. Now, I just hope they no longer want it.

"I thought that I might be able to salvage something...maybe even the entire ship. It would be very beneficial to our cause, yes?"

"Yes, of course it would. But seriously, Cache, I've heard numerous accounts of your bravery from Ron, and know that you are well trained, but you shouldn't have gone off alone...especially in your condition."

Cache waved off her concern with a grin, still trying to quell the wish to strangle that buxom goddess whom she inwardly felt stole Ron from her. "I am as fit as ever. Just a little bulkier!"

Josy took a few moments and scanned the winding, shallow canyon, taking in all of its features. Neidar was high above them by then, searching the entire vicinity very thoroughly.

"How did you ever find this place?"

Cache definitely did not want Flash's involvement made public.

"Ron described it from his vantage point during the air fight. I guessed about what river it was and...I suppose I got lucky."

Josy knew the trail they'd just followed was very direct, cutting across some extremely remote and precipitous areas, and she couldn't imagine anyone with that much luck, but...

"Well, now that we're here," she added with a brilliant smile, "can we help?"

"What about the wounded men...and the army...your commitments to them?"

"I thought about that when we prepared to leave them, but most of the men are mending well and there are a few healers still with them, so they should be fine. And we can rejoin the main group when we're done here, right?"

Cache hated to admit it, but she had seen nothing but sincerity in Josy's eyes and heard it in her voice, so she saw no reason to stay angry. Also, as long as Josy was there with her, she didn't have to imagine what she and Ron were doing alone, so she altered her attitude completely.

"Neidar," she called out, "are you familiar with these ships?"

"Yes, of course," the huge, tattoo-covered soldier replied in a rumbling, grinding voice.

"So am I," Josy added. "Father taught me how to fly!"

Cache still couldn't truly get past the fact that Josy's father was the Reaper commanding the soldiers who'd captured Ron, but she feigned interest in Josy's tutelage and they spoke for a while. Josy had been taught a great deal about the technology of the Kreete, and she was exceptionally bright.

Neidar finally returned from his perimeter survey, still acting as if he was not convinced of something...his head swinging side to side constantly.

"I can see nothing that would cause alarm...but...humph," he grunted, unwilling to elaborate on what he was thinking.

He then dropped to the ground and approached the women.

"Ronin has taught you well, how to protect yourself!" he commented. "I was impressed."

Cache smiled at his compliment. She knew he would not have given it lightly.

"What is it that you wish to know...about the shuttle?"

"May we assist you?" Josy added.

"I 'could' use your help...but it may take a while."

Josy lit up with another fabulous smile. "I've heard about how tenacious you can be when you put your focus to something, and three will get it done much more quickly than one...right? Besides, if we can get this thing going again, we could catch up to the main army camp in no time at all!"

Cache was still a bit guarded, but she had no plausible reason to deny them now, so she accepted their offer. Her true mission would remain secret for a while longer anyway...at least until the ship flew...if it ever would.

"Moreover...I could not very well leave the mother of Ron's child alone in the wilderness, could I? Where do we begin?"

Cache stood as still as the earthen wall that had stopped the ship...her mouth slightly open.

"How did you...?"

Now it was time for Josy to wave off Cache's questions.

"Many people can hide things from those around them, Cache. They excel at lies and misdirection of their intentions. They practice such deception regularly and in many cases, such as with Roelantish, are gifted at it for good reason. That is how they survive in a world they can barely tolerate. You are not one of those people. Ron has spoken often to me a about you, you know...about your homeworld and your plans against the Triad...but of course I have not passed any of that along. His confidences are safe with me...as are yours," she added quickly, her eyes drifting to Cache's round belly. "Ron won't hear a word of it from my lips, I assure you.

"But back to my point...You were reared by beings filled with truth, integrity, and peace, and so your skills of intrigue and subterfuge are quite limited.

"I know that you are bursting with secrets that you feel are too important to disclose with all but a few trusted souls...and I fully...fully understand that. But you also have the notion that hiding a single, incredibly important fact is the best way to handle a certain...'situation'...that has developed between you and me. It is not. You see...you can't hide your feelings very well...from another woman, at least.

"I know that your relationship with Jorin was a failed attempt by him to win your heart. I know how you feel when you look at me...when you see Ron and me together...where 'you' should be. I know that you still love Ron very deeply...that you always have, and no matter what may happen here and in the future..." She paused to glance at Cache's protruding middle again, to allow her meaning to soak in, "You always will!

"And, I also know that the normal gestation cycle of a Raulden female is five hundred and twenty-six Raulden planetary revolutions...nearly twelve Caronian santaris."

Cache had never met anyone who could see through her as easily as this woman. She found it to be very disconcerting...and quite liberating...both at once.

"I would like it very much if we could be friends...as odd a request as that might sound. I didn't know how to tell you about Ron and me when we first met...and I'm very sorry for that lack of forthcoming on my part...but I hope we can get past it.

"The simple truth is that you and I are in love with the same man. He is absolutely magnificent...tall, and handsome, and fierce, and strong, and kind...and the most perfectly righteous man we have...or will...ever meet. That is who holds both our hearts so linked to him.

"I know that I could not imagine my life without him...and I suspect you feel the same way as well. What will happen when he finds out the truth about you and his daughter, we have no way of knowing ahead of time. But, looking around here right now, I think we have a long way to go before that day comes, so...?"

Cache was blown away once again...first by Josy's frank, unassuming explanation of their predicament...and then by her casual knowledge of her child.

"How do you know about the baby...about it being a girl?"

"I have a gift for such things. An innate sense of intuition, most people say."

Cache could do nothing but stare for a long while...stare at nothing while her mind tried to absorb everything she'd just heard and sift through it for possible hidden agendas or subplots. Without knowing it, she slowly paced from the river to the ship, and back again. Josy waited patiently, not wanting to seem too aggressive. She wanted...no...she 'needed' Cache to begin trusting her.

Neidar had started an inspection of the outside of the ship when Cache inquired about his knowledge of such things, and was just completing his initial inspection with that objective. While Cache paced, he made his way slowly back, pausing for a time at the open hatchway and peering in.

"From what I can see, we should be able to patch up the ship...maybe even fly it out of here if the engines will fire."

That brought the little blonde back to life. She was worried that they might try to dissuade her from even attempting the salvage, and didn't know how she would get them to leave her to it.

"My thoughts exactly!" Cache acknowledged with a jolt of hopefulness. "Let us waste no more time then, shall we?"

Josy was thrilled, and immediately began unpacking their possessions and setting up camp, after coordinating with Cache first. She wanted to make it clear to her new friend that she was there to help...and would take a subordinate position in all matters. After all, this was Cache's plan.

Cache dropped the previous conversion like tossing away a stone, although it swirled and glided around and around in the back of her conscious thoughts as she worked, checking and rechecking Josy's story, endlessly searching for any minute inconsistencies.

When all was arranged, Josy and Neidar reported to Cache for work detail. She already had a list of priorities in her mind and laid them out in order, being very polite, yet firmly systematic.

Together, they finished opening up all the panels that would give access to any of the shuttle's key systems, still looking for the one, or multiple reasons why power eluded them. She found Neidar's immense strength especially handy for those types of jobs, as some of the panels were quite difficult to move for her and Josy.

Cache concentrated mostly on the job she started before they had first arrived, and by noon the next day, she finished her jury-rigging of the internal diagnostic system and brought it to life, although in a very limited capacity. It only functioned in the most simplistic way...one system at a time, but by monitoring that screen and following the painstaking instructional protocols, they narrowed the fault to a single point in less than two days. A plasma compression regulator-capacitor had ruptured during the fight.

Each of those type ships was equipped with numerous spare parts, kept in a storage closet in the aft section of the cabin, but that capacitor was a very durable component and wasn't viewed as one that would need a spare, so of course there was none.

That evening, they all sat during supper, hot, tired, and dejected, and tried to come up with some way to bypass the unit, but after a long brainstorming session, nothing had presented itself.

Cache refused to be thwarted by the problem of course and immediately began a workaround. Before sundown that night, she managed to get battery power to a limited couple of new systems, one being the data archives of the shuttle, and began scanning for a way around the problem. That's when she accidentally stumbled on a solution.

"That is it!" she cried, bringing her partners running.

"What is it?" Neidar grumbled.

"You see this?" she asked, scrolling to a schematic that showed the forward cannon's power supply. "That is the same module, only rated at a higher energy quotient. We can use it to repair the main power to the engines!"

Josy hugged her like a little sister. "Great work!"

"The only bad thing is that we have to access the forward cannon's power trunnion, directly aft of the weapon, to get to it!"

They all went to that area to see just how bad that would be, and then let out a conjoined groan.

The nose of the shuttle was completely buried under fifteen feet of rocks and debris...and the cannon was on the lower side of the most forward point in that section.

"The engines would probably have been able to pull the ship clear of that mess, but without their thrust, we will be doing a great deal of digging!" Neidar announced.

The sun was touching the horizon by then and the heat of the long day, combined with the tediousness of their mission, had drained them, so they decided to call it quits and begin that grueling, physical work in the morning.

Earlier during the day, while Cache and Josy struggled with the detailed job of troubleshooting the wiring, Neidar used the patch kit for the hull to cover the holes in the cockpit windows. It would never hold pressure well enough to enter space, but would do satisfactorily for keeping out animals and the elements. His timing couldn't have been better either, because they needed that shelter that very night when a weather front arrived without warning. Driving rain slammed into them hard and didn't relent for the next day and a half.

The storm was exceedingly violent, having nearly constant lightning and thunder that vibrated the hull of the ship as if a giant were beating upon it. Over that long rainy period, the trio remained virtually trapped in the ship. They did at least use their time wisely, replacing all the internal, loosened panels and checking out every other system they could jump power to.

Spending every bort of the day with Josy would surely have driven Cache to madness if the Caronian beauty had been any other woman...her romantic connection to Ron being a festering thorn in the side. But instead of a bother or irritant, she found the farm-grown, down-to-earth woman to be a pure delight. She was smart, hardworking, cheerful, witty, and rather reserved...although mischievous at times.

By the end of the first long day trapped inside, they laughed and joked and played harmless pranks on each other to break the tension and seriousness of the situation.

Without realizing it, the protective shell of emotions Cache normally put up began to crack and fall away, letting out some of her most closely guarded feelings.

"This weather sure brings back bad memories," Cache muttered as they hunkered down in the rear of the cabin, removing, cleaning, and replacing every relay and emitter on a large power junction panel which serviced the engines.

Josy utilized her natural intuitive instincts and saw an opportunity to bond with the Raulden woman.

"Many times it's good to talk about such recollections...to purge them from our thoughts," she told Cache very gently, trying not to seem too forward. "We can take a break if you like...I will listen."

Cache paused for a few moments, her mind reaching back into the darkness of her feelings. Josy looked around and found Neidar up in the cockpit, far from earshot.

"Is it about 'that night'?" Josy almost whispered.

Cache nodded ever so slightly, her eyes blank and unfocused. She didn't speak for a long while...and Josy thought she would not, it being too painful, but then...

Over the next few billots, Cache relayed her every thought and emotion as she poured out her sorrowful tale, it being so vivid in her mind and branded on her heart. Her eyes grew red and wet, the salty fluid flowing freely off her chin and spattering on the floor of the shuttlecraft. Josy was weeping openly too as Cache concluded her story, her own heart aching with deep empathy for her fair-haired friend, and then they hugged each another, rocking gently back and forth.

"It's all in the past now, Cache," she whispered. "Let it go...and never think of it again."

After a short while, they separated and pointedly changed the subject to the overdue meal they'd missed. A bort later, they rose from their knees and headed for the main cabin...wondering what delicacy they could concoct from their rations.

### Chapter Twenty-six

### Who's Hunting Who?

The wet weather Cache was caught in extended well past the Caronian army which was spread across half the territory in an effort to keep their numbers from being detected. And even though it made for miserable conditions to travel in, it was welcomed by the commanders because it also gave them the greatest advantage of stealth. Furthermore, with that rain the tropical nature of the land rapidly repaired itself and erased the evidence of the army's passage, further aiding their cause.

The mass of men had divided five times...each group taking separate courses that their respective leader knew would eventually lead them to their real destination...and their greatest peril. The exact positions where supplies were supposed to be kept along each route were disseminated to every group, and so they'd parted ways with high spirits.

Every section had five hundred men except one...the one that chose Ronin as their leader...it was confined to two hundred, just like in their legend. Ron wanted to argue the matter, but Roe had pulled him aside.

"You and I know this is merely folly," Roe told him, "The legend is just that; a story from an ancient time...but they don't. They think if they follow that tale to the letter, they will be victorious. Ron, my friend, if you're willing to take the risk of such a small band, then I think it is a very powerful sign to the men...and to the greater cause."

Ron did think it folly...even ridiculous...but who can argue with the irrationality of fear...or faith? He could clearly see Roe's logic. The burly fellow was very good at reading such tendencies in men.

"Very well," Ron sighed. "We'll try it their way."

"Besides," Roe added, "there was a rigorous selection process put in place, devised by the men themselves, so only the very finest soldiers were allowed to walk with you."

That did give Ron a bit of comfort, knowing that these men were well qualified, highly skilled, and motivated...that at least he wasn't on a training mission.

During this perilous time period of hiding and advancement, Roelantish stuck decidedly close to Ron while he recovered from his grievous injuries, and over the passing weeks their fabled leader healed tremendously fast. He wasn't completely back to normal, but with the addition of the Kreete medicines to his already phenomenal recuperative system, he'd already returned to his usual arduous workouts that kept him at the top of his game. The lingering pain of such movements went completely ignored by him and therefore was unrecognizable to the common men. They just saw it as part of his inexorable nature and continually watched him with open awe.

Ron reluctantly accepted his new role as their leader, even though he'd have preferred a more experienced tactician, and promptly marched them north, straight into the heart of the enemy's domain. He took the most direct and therefore most dangerous route, not wishing to subject another's band to peril he would not face.

Their first stop was only three days away, a Kreete command post much like the one in Flouret, only three times the size. They would however have to replenish their supplies before then, so the small army left the main road and melted into the wooded land for concealment while a procurement team set out on that task.

Ron took a large wagon and ten men to make a visit to Broken Oar...an outwardly insignificant village on the banks of the Baordine River...the first way-station for the army.

His team drifted into town in pairs, from three different directions and thirty borts apart, first to scout out the area, and then to load up the materials. The secret cache of weapons and dry goods was in a large dilapidated storage barn behind the local refuse pit. It stood half a hoz from the edge of town and reeked so badly that no one cared to linger for very long, and thus was the perfect position.

The soldiers spent two billots milling about with the residents at the local cafés and drinking holes to get a feel of the mood of the place...to see if there were any hints of danger. The townsfolk seemed overly jittery and that gave Ron pause to move forward. He wanted to know why their fears were aroused.

The army had a single contact with whom to deal with...the local liveryman... so Ron rode in under the premise of needing an inspection of his wagon. He found the fellow very busy refurbishing some tack for a pair of roukers. It had been ripped apart when one of the team decided to go its own way after a huge blast of lightning startled it.

"What can I do for you, fella?" the attendant asked, hardly looking up from his work.

"The aft axle needs to be replaced," Ron replied.

"I can take care of your rig tomorrow," the man told Ron, "This harness is needed tonight or the barge will be over a day behind schedule.

"The dawn could bring with it a change in the weather," Ron recited.

The man's hands jerked to a halt suddenly, and then he looked up.

"Weather is a fickle woman," the worker added, "sometimes sweet, sometimes sour."

Ron tossed back his hood to reveal himself.

"I am Ron. You are Myerrs Oresh?"

"I am Biun Goorn...and I suspect you know that, Ronin. Welcome. You may speak freely. I am alone."

"The time draws near," Ron told Biun, a man of approximately forty cycles of age. He was lean and hard, a true working-man with a sharp, steady eye. "We have come for the provisions, but I get the impression that all is not quiet here. Is danger about?"

"No...at least not anymore. The Lords swept through here three days past, and searched the entire town. The supplies are safe...but something has them stirred up real good."

Ron smiled at that. If they were making blanket sweeps, that meant they didn't know where to look.

"Any new faces I should worry about?"

"Not that I can think of, but we always have transients moving through here, so it's hard to be certain."

"Very well then, we'll load up and be gone by nightfall."

"As you wish. You know where to go?"

Ron nodded and pulled his hood back into position before climbing up to the driver's seat and moving once more out into the rain. He saw not a soul as he ambled the rig to the storage building, but as he pulled up to it, ten large shapes converged out of the gloom to meet him.

"Let's get busy," Ron told them.

They were ready two billots later, as nightfall loomed, and they eased away from the shed with no show of haste...not wanting to draw attention. A large animal-hide tarp kept everything dry as well as hidden, and they nearly passed through town and back out to the road without incident. However, it had been a long, wet day and Ron's men weren't looking forward to cold rations again, so he pulled up to the local café and stopped.

The weather had the town nearly completely empty, so he saw little harm in a hot meal in a dry room and his men fairly leapt at the offer when Ron made it. They entered ten borts apart and stayed split into pairs, each watchful and alert, but there was no need. There was a solitary man leaning at the bar, nursing a tankard and talking with the bartender, and they were the only other patrons who came in.

Ron slipped into a corner booth by himself and blew out the lamp that hung above it before the waitress approached. He left his hood in place and stopped the rather robust young woman from relighting it.

"I am sensitive to the light," he told her as he released her hand. "if it's not too much trouble for you."

She was startled at first but carried on without any fuss, a bit wary of getting close to him again though. His hand was sandpaper rough and covered in layers of scars.

They enjoyed the meal immensely and departed the eatery the same way they'd entered, leaving Ron the last to go. He wanted to watch for anything that might be suspicious, but finally rose, paid with a generous tip, and moved toward the door.

A man entered just then, his own hood protecting his face from the steady rain, but the open door allowed a gust of wind in...a gust which blew Ron's hood off and allowed him to be viewed by all in the place.

He calmly replaced it as he strode through the doorway, but growled a low, rumbling reprimand at himself for being so clumsy. When he was beside the wagon, he spoke quickly with three of his troops. The others were already once more dispersed around the village, ever vigilant.

"Did that man see me?" he asked the closest warrior.

"Yes, Ronin. He turned and stopped...let his own hood down, and then proceeded to a table. He sits there still."

"Anyone else?"

"The waitress possibly, but your back was mostly to her. The barman glanced up but showed no reaction...as did the fellow drinking at the bar."

"I will stay behind and follow him," Ron told his men. "Get these supplies to the militia as quickly as you can."

They nodded once and climbed aboard the wagon and their horses, setting off directly. Ron then moved across the small street and settled in for a long night.

The man took his time at his meal and then set off down the main road to the south, again unhurried. When Ron had trailed him more than two hoz, he decided that all his concern was for naught, and turned to go back to his men...but the fellow suddenly stopped, looked all about cautiously, and then moved into the forest to the east. That sparked Ron's curiosity again so he followed.

A quarter hoz into the brush brought them to a campsite which had sentries posted. Ron was very interested by then and so he slipped past the guards to get a closer look at the group. The man he was following entered the second tent on the right...out of a circle of six...and so Ron wormed his way to a point as close to it as he could manage.

"It was him, Horden...there is no doubt!"

"Good then. We are on the right trail. Did he see you?"

"Possibly, but he doesn't know me, so our presence is still secret."

"Very good then. Well done. Get some sleep now. We set out at dawn."

The fellow left the tent a moment later and Ron was able to get a quick glimpse into that space. Two other men were still inside, and Ron recognized one of them easily.

It was Miekka, leader of the Azire!

Ron carefully extricated himself from the proximity of the camp, returned to Broken Oar, and mounted the horse his men had left for him. He trotted the steed out of town unhurriedly, but then made all speed to his own encampment...and not a little concerned. His troops were being followed, and that did not sit well with him.

### Chapter Twenty-seven

### The Ties That Bind Us

When the rains at last blew clear of their location, Neidar, Cache, and Josy finally escaped the capsule of the ship to begin digging it out, but quickly wished they hadn't. The dirt and loose stone combination was a muddy gelatinous mess and they got absolutely covered in the stuff in short order. They struggled and strained and eventually devised some crude sleds to haul away the waterlogged soil, thanking their fortune that the ship at least had a pair of shovels in its tool storage.

Toward the end of that day, the two women sat naked in a shallow part of the rain-swollen stream, cooling off and scrubbing out their filthy clothes. They were hot and exhausted, and the chilly water was a welcomed shock to their overheated systems, especially for Cache who was running warmer than usual due to her condition. Neidar was out of sight, further downstream doing much the same thing, and so they had a chance to talk "girl-talk" while sharing a bar of soap and washing out each other's hair.

"I can see why he loves you," Cache said to Josy, a bit shyly.

"What?"

"Aside from the obvious, you really are quite special."

Josy was taken aback for a moment.

"Well, thank you, Cache...and without wanting to appear condescending or insincere, I have been thinking the same thing about you. Since I heard the story from Roelantish of what all you went through to try and assist Ron during his time in captivity, I've been impressed with you...at your dogged determination and relentless drive. As I said before, Ron has spoken to me about you and your mission to try and assist all those worlds out there that find themselves at the mercy of the Triad. Instead of following your personal dreams of research and exploration, you drive headlong into a future that has been a nearly nonstop threat to your life. He told me about how you and he fought together on your world; about how courageous and intelligent...brilliant, in fact...you are.

"I really held little hope that he would stay with me when he found out his distrust of you had been misplaced. Your companionship with Jorin was the only thing I felt I could count on to keep my place in his life. When I realized you weren't romantically linked to him though, I wondered why you didn't try to reestablish your bond with Ron."

Cache paused for a moment while she rinsed Josy's long, sable locks.

"How can I? He is happy and...in love," she said...the words catching in her throat sharply. "He has been able to move on with his life and I cannot fault him for that. I made a choice that day so long ago, and I now have to live with it."

"But what about the baby?"

"I have no idea."

"Cache, he has to be told!" she insisted, turning about to look at her blonde friend.

"I have worried about that for so many billots that I burned out my thoughts on the matter. I would so much like for him to simply choose me to give his heart to. That is what I had for so brief a time, and that is what I have hoped for every day since. I am sorry, but it is true."

Josy merely nodded her head...wringing out her tresses as she listened. She felt no bitterness at Cache's announcement. She knew she would feel exactly the same way.

"But the awful fact of the matter is that if he did not make that choice...I cannot even imagine...what would I do?"

Tears of sorrow and despair trickled down Cache's cheeks once more, blending invisibly with the river water she'd splashed onto her spectacular, golden face. Her hands vibrated from agonizing over that possibility, and Josy's heart reached out to hers.

"We're definitely in an odd situation," Josy admitted. "It would be one thing if you weren't 'with-child'...two women vying for the same man's attention is probably fairly commonplace...but that definitely adds a certain twist to the triangle."

Cache splashed her face again to refresh her spirits a bit.

"If I were to leave him..."

"NO!" Cache vehemently told her. "You cannot, Josy...not for me...us. I have to be sure that if he comes to me; he does it out of his wish to be with me, to be with us, with no outside influence."

"But there already is an outside influence...Jorin! He thinks you two are married...that you have chosen another to build your life with. What will happen when he finds out the truth?"

Cache shook her head and wept more, suddenly angry at herself for being so emotional. "I do not know...I...I do not know!"

"It would be best if he found out from you, Cache...not from me...and not from Jorin. When next you see him, you must pull him aside and tell him! His reaction will be your answer."

"What about you? Are you simply going to sit by and hope for the best?"

"I have little choice in the matter really. Until this is all out in the open, my life with him is merely temporary. I've tried to prepare myself for the day when he will leave and never return, as he warned me he would before our first..."

She stopped for a moment, instantly wishing she hadn't said so much when she saw Cache recoil slightly.

"Anyway, I've lived each day with his warning hanging over my life, hoping the Guardian would grant me just one more...just one more.

"You fear the time he spends with me, while I envy the precious life you share with him. Is this not idiotic? Are we just two fools?"

Cache shook her head firmly.

"No, I think not. A true fool would be the one who based his or her actions on tangibles and made silly choices. Our emotions have no tangibles, no boundaries, no strategy. Our hearts simply yearn, and feel, and hurt, and hope. We are merely two women who have each set our hearts free to soar to the heights that they will...and have found that pinnacle of symbiotic perfection in another. It is love at a magnitude we could only read about, or dream of prior to that moment. We just found it with the same man.

"I fault you no more than I fault his wife...widow...who preceded me. Neither of us could have foreseen all the incredible events that have led us to this unavoidable reality. Nor could we have altered our emotional journeys without losing that which we seek the most...totally free love and devotion from the man we adore."

They sat for a while longer, their minds wandering in a thousand directions with nearly infinite possibilities.

"One other worry though," Josy said softly, her mind clouded with a new line of thought, "is that he may no longer be able to make such a commitment,"

"What do you mean?"

"He still thinks about their wives...the one Ron lost on his homeworld, and the one that Kaskle lost here, on Caron. He doesn't realize it, I think, but he speaks to them sometimes in his sleep." Her speech was somber and distant, like her heartache. "He may never be able to give himself like that again. We must be prepared for that possibility as well."

They sat there soaking and thinking for a bit longer before the chill of the water forced them out to a sunny spot to dry. Any single man on Caron would have eagerly given a hefty price to have a view like that in his sights...those two beauties sunning themselves out in wilds...nude to the glorious blue sky. They of course didn't give it a second thought. Josy knew Neidar would protect her from any interloper, and Cache had Flash.

It didn't take long for the Caronian star to manage the task of evaporating the dewy drops from those heavenly surfaces however, and as they dressed once more, Josy voiced a long dormant curiosity.

"Cache, how is it that you got pregnant in the first place? I was taught about the 'Purebreds'...that is, the individuals who could trace their ancestors back to their Raulden beginnings. I thought Raulden women chose when and with whom they would procreate?"

"Yes, that is true...and I really had no plans to become a mother so soon. I have no answer other than I suppose the panic and stress of Ron's capture, and the inner torment of my part in it, must have derailed my body's ability to regulate such things. And along those thoughts...I know very little about your people, Josy, but it has been a wonder to me that you have been with Ron for so long and have not been...well...fertilized."

"Oh, no...I have been!" she replied casually, slipping her little skirt back up into place around her incredible hips. She no longer wore the long riding pants, they being too warm to endure in the heat of the canyon.

Cache had to sit down to fasten her sandals on her feet, her belly getting in the way more and more these days.

"You have?" she asked, dropping her lacing...stunned by Josy's announcement.

"Yes, but let me explain. Tregasian females are born with ten eggs, each in its own, separate chamber, which lay dormant until the time the woman is mature enough for reproduction. At that point, she has complete control of the chambers each egg is stored in and can allow only one egg at a time access to her mate's sperm. That permits the woman ten separate choices of mates, or ten children by the one mate."

"And you have allowed Ron access to your eggs?"

"Yes, of course. I can't even imagine a better specimen of manhood...much less a greater love."

"So you are pregnant now?"

"In a way, I am...I guess...but not the way most species see it. The eggs he seeded will lie in stasis until we're ready for our family to begin. I have up to thirty Tregasian cycles to give birth to one or all."

Cache was totally amazed at that revelation. Her studies back on Rauld, of the many differing species, hadn't given her that information and it was quite a mental adjustment now.

"How many have you seeded?"

Josy's face flushed heavily as her hands went to the place just above her womb.

"Your daughter has six brothers and four sisters waiting patiently in there!"

Cache's mouth dropped open uncontrollably.

"Seriously?"

Josy nodded quickly; extremely jubilant that she could share the glorious news with another. Even her mother didn't know.

"That's why it's so important for us to be friends!" she said to Cache, grasping her hands tightly. "I know that to you, this is all a huge surprise and shock...and believe me when I say that I understand...but I've had the chance to think about it for a long while, and I'm extremely happy! No matter what happens, if he should choose one of us, or neither, we will always be linked together!"

Cache smiled brightly and hugged Josy tight, outwardly excited...and did her best to see her point of view...but she was not Tregasian!

### Chapter Twenty-eight

### The Trap

While the two beauties slogged through the mud day after day with Josy's brother, the Caronian army took up the goal of eliminating as many of the Kreete's guard posts as they could manage without exposing themselves too much. Their plan was to gain confidence and experience through these smaller skirmishes while working their way slowly northwest toward their ultimate objective of Huinrag...the grandest city/fortress outside of Pigonta.

Huinrag had special meaning to Ron in so many ways, but also, it was the nexus of the Kreete strength in the Caronian lands and they couldn't hope to be free as long as that city remained a haven to their enemies. It had to be destroyed...and now that the Kreete knew of a coordinated army hiding in and about this province...it needed to be soon!

Each night during their travels, they set up camp with no fires and as little amount of noise as possible. On this particular evening Ron's horde was preparing to attack the outpost at Wolf's Bend, a typical Kreete station arranged much like the one at Flouret...sparsely manned, and lean of human occupation.

Ron had assigned two of his men to watch their flank, suspicious of what the Azire were up to, but they hadn't advanced, sticking to the immediate vicinity of the town of Broken Oar. He was very puzzled about that, but had to forget it for the time being...consumed with matters of the pressing battle.

The rains had gone again and the Caronian sun was drifting across the mottled, cloud-dotted, blue sky toward the west. Ron and Roe were at a convenient, thickly wooded overlook point, surveying the guard post from the deep shade of the forest. They had kept their vigil for several billots by this time, with little signs of the enemy. It was boring duty, and as Ron shifted his position a bit to get more comfortable, he set his borrowed, Caronian-constructed bow to the side, wishing he had his former, more powerful equipment with him. That wish triggered a thought.

"Roe," he whispered, "I have been meaning to ask you for some time now, but always forgetting when I have the chance. When we first met, you had a very difficult time stringing my bow...but I now know your heavy-worlder heritage, and wonder why that was."

Roelantish blushed red quickly...his embarrassment clearly evident.

"I was really hoping you might have forgotten about that. Well, no matter. The fact is that I had just gotten lazy...complacent about living here on Caron. You see, compared to most men on this planet, I was clearly superior in strength without trying very hard, so, over the many cycles I've lived here, I slowly neglected the regimen that I'd decided to maintain when I first arrived...to keep myself in top form.

"After that little encounter with you though, I quickly returned to my training...determined not to be bested again...at least, not by any Caronian!"

"Well, it certainly worked! That was one hell of a fight...you and me."

"Yes!" Roe admitted with a great grinning smile. "I don't recall being so sore in my entire life as the days following that!"

They both grew quiet then, each recalling that terrific brawl, and the mitigating circumstances that had led up to it. Then they returned their attention to their stakeout for another billot of tedious spying.

"It sure looks empty!" Roe said...handing the optical enhancers he'd received from Karne to Ron for confirmation of his assessment.

"You think they're all out on patrol?" Ron returned. "Possibly looking for our network of supporters?"

"Yeah, maybe...I just get an odd feeling about it, like..."

"Ron!" sounded a voice in Ron's head. It hadn't been long since he'd experienced that feeling, so he realized what it was and didn't spin about searching for it, thus alerting Roe to his suspicions. He paused for a quick moment and then spoke.

"I'm going to work my way over to those trees and try to get a better angle at the communication center. I'll be right back."

Roe nodded his understanding and stayed put, his eyes locked on the post and his mind circling the questions he had.

Ron moved out of sight of his friend and then scanned the woods intently. Flash bristled his camouflaged fur to clash with the surrounding forest and Ron grinned. Once more, he hadn't seen the huge beast only thirty feet away.

The tracker pup glided to him quickly and silently, belying its size and weight with its stealth. Ron was truly amazed.

"How are you, Flash? Is Cache all right?"

The toothy, lipless grin of the hideous beast didn't change, but the creature nuzzled Ron's chest warmly before returning to its previous state of alertness.

"Mate sent this," Flash told him.

Ron unhitched the harness and removed the articles from the bundle. As soon as he unwrapped it, his heart leapt with joy and relief. Every one of his Raulden gifts of war was there, and it was much like having a long lost friend suddenly reappear when hope that they would ever be reunited was failing.

"Oh, man! I sure am glad to see these! Thank you my young friend!" he said slapping the incredible creature on the shoulder hard...barely a love tap to the beast.

"Where are you heading now?" Ron inquired.

"Protect Cache."

"Good. That would greatly ease my mind. I'm eternally grateful to you, Flash...for watching over her all these many santaris. I could never repay you for that."

Ron then spied a bit of paper nestled in the bundle. He found it to be a very brief note and immediately read it. It was written in perfect, cursive English and he knew without a doubt that Cache had penned it.

(While they were on Rauld together, she'd been very interested in everything about Ron and where he was from. Before they separated he taught her enough of his language to write it quite effectively. She was extremely bright.)

The note said two short sentences; "The mission is proceeding well, but you were right! I was followed. I am very sorry."

Ron's face went blank and his heart grew heavy. His suspicious nature had apparently won out over his wish to trust, and he was acutely saddened by that fact. He knelt where he was for a long few moments and Flash lay beside him like a domesticated pet...patiently awaiting the return of his attention.

Movement down below forced Ron's concentration to quickly shift back to the outpost as two scouts exited one building and headed toward the main gate. He studied them intently.

"Hunting?" the tracker asked, noting Ron's interest in the Kreete.

"In a manner of speaking. We are going to attack that post tomorrow morning...before dawn, but I can't understand why there aren't more of them in the compound."

"Not here!"

Ron immediately looked to his eight-legged partner with extreme concern.

"What do you mean?"

Flash turned his massive, gruesome head back in the direction that Ron and Roe had come from.

"There!"

Ron's heart skipped a beat as it lurched with dread and anxiety, and he felt a cold shiver rip through him.

"Where...exactly?"

"Around men."

Ron's grip on his beloved ebony sword went to full power and his knuckles popped audibly.

"They have encircled my men?"

"Yes."

"My sentries?"

"Dead."

Ron didn't hesitate another lita, his feet tearing up the soft forest floor as he sped back to Roe's position. Flash trotted beside him, ten peors away in the thick underbrush.

"What are you going to do?" the pup asked.

"Kill as many of them as I can," Ron replied.

"Can I help?"

Ron shot a look to the tracker that bespoke his thanks. "As much as you care to!"

Before another step of Ron's sprinting feet could strike the ground, Flash was gone.

"Roe!" he shouted as he approached his friend's position, "Back to camp!"

"What? Why?" he asked as he set off in Ron's wake at a dead run.

"We've been duped! They know we're here! They have us surrounded!"

"How do you know this?"

"I just know!"

"Where did 'that' come from?" Roe inquired with complete bewilderment, staring at the black blade...and his black 'super-bow'.

"A friend."

They made the two hoz trek to their men in an incredibly short amount of time, and when they saw the first of the outer Kreete guards, they paused not in the least, their bows calling out in their deadly, whispering, strumming melody...and the Kreete began to die.

An instant later, the peaceful serenity of the forest was shattered by the release of the bone-chilling cry of the demon from the Aredanz Mountains. Blood was in the air!

Instantaneously, that sound caused two reactions: the attacking horde to pause, and the unsuspecting men to jump to attention...and into action.

They knew that sound well, and also its meaning. Ronin would never give away their position unless danger was about, and so they literally dropped whatever they were doing and took up arms. In less than a single bort every bow was loaded and every eye searched the surrounding woods with profound earnest.

The answering roar to Ron's challenge came from all around them, and each man braced himself for a horrible battle. They'd been caught unawares and now their hopes of success cascaded away as the charging Kreete army of five strike teams burst into their direct view.

At that very instant though, a third sound ripped through the air, following up that of the Kreete in a macabre retort...or was it in alliance?

With the single exception of Ron Allison, every nerve within a two-hoz radius of that howl was immediately paralyzed. Every man's fear was intensified ten-fold, and every elite, hardened Kreete soldier looked to his nearest partner...his confidence severely shaken. Most of them knew the challenge of Shartae, and that would have been enough to give them pause, even in their vast numbers, but this new call was so much more than that. A few of the scouts even knew what beast had made it. Those of them that did, prayed to the Guardian that it was on their side!

As the shrieking scream of the tracker reached its peak and turned into a horrid, rumbling roar, the Kreete's attack faltered. When screams began coming from their ranks...from three different locations at once, the awesome fighting force of the Triad quickly shattered. They hurriedly clumped into groups of three and four, arranging themselves into several dozen stout, defensive formations...each now focused on merely survival...the attack forgotten.

Ron and Roelantish caught the Kreete off guard and began wreaking heavy damage to the skirmish-line of the west...and Flash utterly destroyed the largest concentration to the north. So that left the men in the camp with only two hard-pressing locations to deal with, but they had already felt the cold kiss of panic at being surprised, and it shook them. Now they had to struggle through their own fears and uncertainties to hold their ground.

The squad leaders rallied themselves to the call valiantly, fortified at the thought that Ronin was with them, but they knew their position was fragile as the Kreete forces literally collided with theirs and the hand-to-hand carnage ensued.

The heavy bows cut into the enemy numbers impressively, dropping the entire first wave in dramatic fashion and bolstering the men's spirits enough to mount their own counter attack. By the time the full-on swordplay began, it was roughly evenly matched as far as the numbers on each side.

A cycle in the past would have seen a complete slaughter of every man, but now after the intense training they'd received, and the two battles they'd already endured, the men knew what they were doing. They knew the weaknesses of their once omnipotent enemy, and no longer trembled in fear at the mere sight of them.

When Ron and Roe finally battled their way into camp, the men were working well together, breaking out one or two scouts at a time and double or triple-teaming them. The archers were moving about in packs as well, just like in Gardilane, and calling...'DOWN'...before unleashing their ordinance at point blank range at the enemy. It was devastatingly effective!

Once the fight moved into the more open areas of the campsite Flash pulled back and circled...making sure that when the Kreete broke for help, none made it.

The frenzy of the battle raged for over a billot...hard, grisly, bloody, and heartless...before the last of the attacking force succumbed to their well-trained and orchestrated foe.

The clash of steel and roar of battle eventually quieted in that wooded land and then a hectic and hurried search began. The wounded cried out for aid and needed to be found and treated...and each Kreete scout had to be checked for life, which was then quickly squelched. It was tense and dangerous duty because even a badly wounded Kreete was a potentially deadly adversary.

Upon gathering their dead and injured, the camp quickly slipped into a new mode; one of smooth and orderly conduct. Teams not assisting in the triage center stripped the Kreete dead of any useful articles, and then dragged them into the forest.

With the lust for blood gone, the cleanup underway, and nightfall approaching, Ron gathered with the other leaders.

"Somehow, they were warned of our coming!" Ron announced with an air of certainty that none ignored.

"But how?" Horcis (the leader of the bowmen) asked. "Who would...and why?"

"The bounty on Shartae is still out there and is higher than ever," Roe replied. "Frankly, I can't believe we've kept this army's existence a secret for as long as we have. It was bound to fail eventually. I think we were much luckier than we could have hoped for."

"You men, gather twenty of your best troopers," Ron said, his mind already on his next move. "I plan on taking a small strike team to hit the post. It was nearly deserted earlier and we should have little trouble."

"Ronin!" spoke up the horsemen's commander when he'd pressed forward for orders. "You're injured!"

Ron looked down and vaguely recalled being blind-sided by a swinging ax that struck the black sword's scabbard, taking him off his feet and glancing into the small of his back. He now had a nasty-looking gash exposed and blood ran from it down his left thigh...not too freely, but it was substantial. That, combined with an arrow hole through his left forearm, was the worst of it though. (A well-aimed missile had passed neatly between his radius and ulna and left its tell-tale drip of red fluid prominently displayed)

Ron grunted his acknowledgement at the condition he was in, hardly pausing to concern himself after he saw he wasn't bleeding too heavily, and set off to hand-pick his team from the still standing soldiers.

They set out for the post almost immediately, stopping only long enough for a good, long drink of water, and eased into position just as the setting sun evaporated into the horizon.

The Kreete had left only a single guard at each gate and the twenty-man team of fighters cut them down in a blink. They then swept through the post quickly, finding only two others in the place. Apparently they hadn't given much thought to their army's failure.

When they stormed the command center, Ron was in the lead, and this time, the radio remained intact and transmitting.

Ron unceremoniously ordered the post burned to the ground, save the command center and the animal pens, and offered his assistance to the few human residents that resided there. He also recruited the resident doctor and his assistants to their army's cause with little trouble. They were both ready to leave that life of servitude to the Lords.

As they headed back to the rebel camp, their adrenaline waning and ready to call it a day, Ron paused to fall behind the rest of the men.

"Are you all right, Ronin?" Roe asked, his eyes darting to the blood-soaked man before him.

"Yes...I'll be along momentarily. We'll need to be leaving early, so make ready."

Roe set off with the troopers as Ron hung back waiting for Flash.

"I extend you my gratitude once more, my young friend. I grant you first choice of whatever you like from the stables of the post," Ron told the fearsome creature, thinking he would gobble up some of the chinches or gorge himself on the pravort that grazed in the nearby fenced pasture.

To his amazement, Flash headed straight to the treen's corral that stood a hundred peors to the west, and leaped into the large holding area without a moment's hesitation, clearing the eight-foot high barrier easily. Ron followed quickly, at first worried that the treen could seriously injure his youthful ally, but that apprehension vanished promptly when the spine tingling reverberations of the tracker's victory call replaced the horrible sounds of a vicious brawl. Ron breathed a huge sigh of relief and eased off his frantic rush as he came up to the sturdy, well-fenced pen and peered through the slatted upper section more than six feet above the ground.

Flash looked directly at him as Ron's mind asked. "Why would you take one of these instead of...?"

"Others too easy! No fun."

The remaining treen were off in the far corner, huddled there in a large mass, all crouched and growling, baring their fangs, but none willing to break from their group...safety in numbers, no doubt.

Ron glanced at that cluster of animals, basically cowering in the corner. He easily recalled the power and viciousness of those beasts during his fight against the wolf pack, back on the western side of the Greishere Highlands, to the south of Gruinshawe. They had seemed invincible then...and now they willingly took a clear backseat to a truly savage killing machine.

"I'll watch while you eat," Ron told the tracker pup. "I don't want you discovered just yet. The men would not understand."

Half a billot later, Flash's belly was distended prominently yet he sprang nimbly out of the pen and vanished into the thick forest. Two thirds of the treen was gone!

Ron then headed back through the dark woodland to his encampment at a fast jog. There was much to do.

The following morning, they broke camp with only a hundred men...the other hundred having been killed or wounded badly enough to keep them from the march. It was with a sullen heart that Ron watched as half of his army slowly headed east toward the nearest town, before they would continue on southward to the med-camp.

Ron now felt the pull of the thirty stitches it had taken to close his own wounded back...stiffening his movements for the next few days at least...and hoped he would have time to heal before called upon again to wage war.

He stood next to Roelantish as his men assembled about the pair of them, and he glanced over their faces. He found none with the slightest pause at following him. They were now hardened warriors and felt pride in themselves and in their cause welling up within each of them. It was true that their mission, their objective, their deepest hope was likely to end their lives, but who among them or anywhere could dream of such an ardent, glorious end. And who could know...with Ronin Alsone of Erthania at the head of them, could they truly fail?

Their throng was small, so there was little need to shout as Ron calmly addressed the men.

"It isn't difficult to grasp the fact that we were betrayed...by whom, I'm not certain, but I have my suspicions. The 'why' of the matter is obvious...either for profit or due to coercion, but that is beside the point. The real crux of our situation is 'how' the enemy knew we were here, and I think I know that. I've heard whispers to the affect that some of you might think you failed your fellows by not performing your duties carefully enough, that an error on your part had given away our position. But I have to confess to you men that it wasn't you...it was me."

There was an obvious, disbelieving cord that swept through the fighters...each of them shifting their weight while their brows furrowed and their eyes glanced about. Ronin could not have betrayed them! That was ridiculous.

"Three days past, I allowed myself a brief bit of luxury, and subsequently was seen in the village where we picked up our supplies. I offer no excuse and accept whatever punishment you men wish. The number of dead counts sixty three...the wounded, thirty seven. I am the soul responsible party to that tragedy.

"What do you wish..."

At that instant, twenty men with drawn bows stepped from the thick brush and moved quickly on the unsuspecting group. Ron's troops lurched forward to guard their hero, but...

"NO ONE MOVE!" ordered Miekka, the leader of the Azire, "Or the great 'Ronin' dies!"

Ron turned to face this newest threat, and saw his rear guard, the two who were supposed to report on the enemy's movements, dragged out of the forest and dumped on the grass, bound and gagged.

"If your quarrel is with me," Ron said in his most menacing tone, "then let us settle it. These men have no part in it."

"Oh, really? Is that so?" retorted the leader. "You there...come out here now!"

Three men in the group he indicated began to step forward.

"Just him!" the leader added, stopping two of them.

Ron turned to see just who it was that had grabbed his attention...and his eyes widened. He'd seen that man before...long ago.

"This is the reason your army was ambushed!" Miekka then announced with obvious disdain.

"What?" Ron asked, totally confused.

"He is an assassin! He got word to the post somehow, I do not know exactly how, but I know it was him."

"What makes you say that? Wouldn't he be a fool to call an ambush on the very group he was assigned to?"

"He was not with you during the fight. We have been shadowing him for two weeks, waiting to see what it was he was after. My forward scout saw him take that uniform and those weapons he is wearing from a wounded man in the forest, while you were gone and the cleanup was underway. The poor fellow thought this one was coming to help him, but he slit his throat instead."

Ron's blood was boiling by then, but he didn't want to let one lie cover another. The selected man kept his head low and turned from Ron's view.

"Explain yourself," Ron ordered to the soldier. "If this man is lying, I want to hear your story."

The fellow turned then to face Ron, and sparked a clear memory in his mind.

"Where are you from?" Ron asked.

"A small village, two weeks south of here. I..."

"He lies!" growled the Azire leader. "He is from my territory, recruited by the Kreete as a spy!"

The man looked extremely nervous, his eyes darting quickly all around, as if searching for a way out.

"I have met you before, have I not?"

"At the training camp, my Lord...but there were many and you could not hope to know us all."

"Yes, unfortunately that's true...I don't know every man who passed through there, but still, I do remember you...only not from Gardilane. I met you on a steep, narrow trail, just below the Gruinshawe pass," Ron corrected him. "At the end of my rope, as I recall...just before Birtsoe Ingstran and his men were surrounded!"

Ron's eyes narrowed sharply as his comprehension clarified...and his anger soared. "You are the one who told the Kreete where to find my partner...in Mardesh!"

Ron growled deeply; his long search for that culprit finally concluded and his rage searing through him!

The man's eyes turned then from scared and shifting, to a piercing look of hate. He moved very fast, a knife seemingly sprouting from his hand as he lunged at Ron...but that blade never reached its target. His weapon-wielding hand was suddenly bent back around to face him, snapped cleanly above the wrist, while Ron's twelve inch dagger disappeared into the assassin's throat and six arrows slammed into his body.

That man's last sight was Ron Allison's visage of utter fury barely two inches from his eyes, and horrendous sounds of a growling animal reverberated in his ears.

Ron kicked the fellow's body ten feet clear of him, removing his throwing blade as he did it, completely disgusted with the fact that such a man had infiltrated his militia.

The men of the Azire watched the flying corpse with snarls upon their own lips, disgusted at being of the same heritage as that scum. Then they lowered their weapons and Miekka approached Ron.

"It was not you that gave your troops away, Ronin," he told Ron calmly. "That flarge was watching the shed. He simply followed the supplies."

"But I heard your man in the camp...saying that he had confirmed the identity of a man, and had been seen by him...right after I passed him in that café. Was that not concerning me?"

"No, of course not, although he was an instant celebrity when he got back to our group, having seen the mighty Shartae in person. No, he was watching Borus there, and had been seen by 'him'. That's why he went into the café in the first place...to give the impression of indifference toward that grubby flarge."

Ron's relief was palpable. Shedding the crushing responsibility of the loss of all those men was enormously liberating to his soul, and he was extremely grateful to the Azire commander for clearing that up as well as eliminating a lethal enemy.

"My deepest thanks to you, Miekka," Ron told him. "My men and I are in your debt. Is there any way we might repay you for your services?"

Miekka didn't hesitate even a moment.

"Let us join you."

Ron was shocked at that, recalling the differences in moral conduct and ethics he and the foreigner had once fought over.

"You are down a hundred men...half your compliment, right?"

"Yes, but I thought..."

"I have reconsidered my position on many matters since last we met, Ronin," Miekka said humbly, cutting Ron off. "We have come to lend our swords to the cause...to fight for freedom in our lands...for a free Caron.

"I have watched you for a long while, both at the training camp, and in different battles. "I was there at the patrolmen's camp, when you and the big fellow there stood against a dozen of the Lords' scouts. You are skilled beyond comparison and fearless beyond reason...without a doubt the greatest warrior I have ever seen or heard tell of! And you inspire men to an unparalleled level.

"You see, we were there in Gardilane as well, that night when you were too injured to be moved...when your men stood their ground against a vastly superior foe in your defense!"

Ron glanced at Roelantish, and the bearded woodsman gave him a nod of confirmation about that claim.

"They pushed past the previous assumptions we had toward our once invincible enemy and crushed the Kreete, destroying their claims of omnipotence and supremacy and giving us all hope.

"Now if I recall the legend of Ronin correctly, he always traveled with two hundred men. It is our intention to keep that tradition alive. It is our wish to refill your ranks, if you so wish it, as I have a hundred of the Azire's finest warriors.

"We pledge ourselves to you, Ronin Alsone, and no other."

Ron saw the truth in his eyes, and when he dropped to his knee with his blade on the ground, followed by each of his men, Ron could hardly speak.

"I accept your offer, Miekka," Ron told him. "But rise and see me as my equal, not my subordinate. We fight together," Ron then said in his booming, baritone voice to the assemblage of soldiers behind Miekka, "and I allow any man to speak his mind. We need one another equally. We cannot survive without each other."

Ron then turned back to his own men, those he'd just fought with, and bled with.

"You men have seen real battle, and have proven yourselves worthy to be standing on this planet, and not lying beneath its surface! You now know your enemy well, and the lengths they will go through to stop us, and therefore you should know what lies ahead for any who decide to continue!

"When we leave this place, we march for Huinrag!"

Not a sound...not a stirring...not a hesitant shift of footing could be heard from the troops. They all knew of Huinrag...the fortress city completely surrounded by a wall that was ten men high and thick enough to allow wagons to pass along its upper ramparts. It had hundreds of guard towers scattered across its more than ten hoz of impregnable stone bulwark and was rumored to be the home of over five thousand Kreete troops.

"The city of Huinrag will have to be destroyed!" Ron added, his unwavering glare sliding from man to man smoothly, including the newly volunteered Azire troops. "When we turn and head north, those who have seen enough of this war are free to go. I ask none of you to continue. What we've been through together has been brutal, and harsh, and fearful, and cruel...and you have all earned the right to go back to your families as heroes who have accounted themselves like true Caronians!

"The battle we are headed for will likely be much worse...and many will die before it's over...of that, I am certain. It's my wish however...my goal...to make those deaths fall on the Kreete army, and not on ours...but you all know of the likelihood of that! They are strong, and brave, and fierce, and powerful! But this is 'our' land! 'Our' home! 'Our' planet! And we shall see it returned to those born to it!"

The dwindled band of bloodied men all cheered so loud and strong that Ron and Roe both swelled with pride and honor to be teamed with such fighters, and those of the Azire did their best to match that raucous roar.

A few borts later, they all turned as one and began their new march...to certain, horrific war...and most likely certain, ghastly death!

### Chapter Twenty-nine

### Perilous

Back at the shuttle's crash site, the trio was into its fourth day of agonizing manual labor, and barely making a dent in the mountain of shifting soil and rock that kept them from their goal. They were forced to take breaks often to fight back the draining, and dangerous effects of exposure in that sunlit region, and it was during one of those that Josy finally let her curiosity get the better of her. She was still surprised, and a little confused about why Cache hadn't jumped at the chance to tell Ron of her motherly news.

"Cache," Josy began rather sheepishly, "I really don't wish to dredge up more wounds, but how is it that you became so close to Jorin, so as to leave the impression on Ron that you two were wed?"

Cache took a long drink of water and thought for a moment. She sat in the shade of a single haggard-looking tree...the only one even close to the crash site...trying to shed some of the heat that had built up inside her body. The arduous work they were forced to perform out under that blazing star was really taxing her body's regulatory system...trying to cool for two, as it was.

"If you don't wish to..." she said hurriedly, trying to back out of her request if it would cause the Raulden woman more grief.

Cache smiled at her with a wave, not insulted by her rival's curiosity, and almost glad she could tell someone about this very precarious situation she'd ended up in.

"Well, you remember what I told you about the morning after Ron had paid me that visit in Tabey?"

"Yes. You rode off with that man to give aid to another, and intended not to return."

"That is correct. That man who had come to town for the doctor was Jorin."

Cache talked for the next couple of billots, all the way through their next round of work, and their next rest stop, recalling everything she'd been through in her time with the policemen...at least the most pertinent details. Josylinia was a very good listener...patient and attentive...and Cache was extremely grateful to have a woman to speak with again, after such a long period surrounded completely, and solely by men.

They laughed about some of the more idiotic or ridiculously silly events that had occurred, and Josy cringed at the near misses she'd been through. And when Cache told her about her last night with Jorin, Josy didn't judge her, or condemn her as a man surely would have. Another female understood her ingrained need to find security and stability for her child, to have a 'family', and to be loved...even though she was breaking the solemn, heartfelt vow she'd given Ron after their coupling.

"I am extremely thankful that I didn't go through with it, Josy...so that I might be able to live with myself. But I had every intention to do so, so I wonder if not performing the actual deed is really any solace. As far as I am concerned, I betrayed him...again. That is a large part of why I have not chosen to inform him. I pledged myself to him...for the rest of my life...and did not honor that promise for even one entire cycle."

She turned her face from Josy's intent gaze...too ashamed of her actions to meet her eyes. "I feel in my heart that I am not worthy of him anymore."

"Well that is simply nonsense!" Josy told her with no hesitation at all. "Ron would not hold that against you...and I think you know that. Your conduct, from what I've gathered has been exemplary. It's only your inner guilt that plagues you, Cache...no one else is judging you. You simply put too much pressure on yourself to achieve perfection. There's absolutely no doubt that you have a stricter sense of morality and virtue than most. Those of us who have been around you enough, and those who know you best, would all attest to that."

Cache was extremely moved by Josy's assessment and understanding, and even ventured a smile at the compassion she was receiving from a woman who had every reason to scorn her as an enemy.

"Thank you, Josy," Cache told her meekly...still trying to understand her unfathomable level of consideration. "I think that you are probably the sweetest person I have ever met."

Four hundred hoz away, Ron, Roe, Jarle, Jorin, Rasche, Miekka, and a number of other captains crouched at the very edge of the verdure that stood a quarter hoz from the tall walls of the fortress city of Huinrag. They had been watching the guards on the high walkways for two days, searching for some form of pattern to their actions. The Kreete were clearly overconfident, even lazy about their safety. With every rotation of their guards there was an equally visible change of attitude and vigilance.

The destruction of the soldiers and ships at Gardilane was too far away for them to concern themselves...that was someone else's incompetence. Those brigands who'd destroyed a few of their tiny little outposts, 'if' the rumors of such feats were even true, were scattered about the wilderness and wouldn't dare attack this grand, mighty bastion of Kreete dominance.

Regular patrols moved in and out of the thirty-foot-high main gates twice a day, each constituted of equal numbers...a forty-nine scout Strike force. The humans had no way of knowing how many of the enemy were actually in the city at any given time, so they sent in three spies to ascertain that information, posing as produce delivery merchants. They asked subtle questions of the cooks and house servants, making their rounds to as many areas as they could, and worked their way through the city over the span of a week. When the last of them came out and was safely away from the city, they each broke away from their false route to report to the rebel leaders.

"The belief that a legion resides here is true," Rasche announced at a meeting of the leaders. "However, fully half are not in the city at any given time...out on patrols, or being sent to relieve some other group."

They didn't allow themselves to be bolstered by that news however, knowing such information could be easily skewed or misrepresented, especially if reinforcements had arrived covertly...as any competent army was sure to do. At any rate, the Caronians were running out of time to keep themselves out of the Kreete's awareness parameters, so they decided to move forward with their plans.

The next time the city's scheduled garbage removal was due, Ron and Roe disguised themselves with grime-covered, ragged garments, commandeered a position on that twenty-man team, and rode right through the entry gate. Such squalid, filthy men were seldom if ever searched, and were given free rein to move about performing their revolting work, which played right into the rebels' plans.

Ron broke away from their band as they moved through the large metropolis and found the communication array exactly where Karne had said it would be. He scaled the ornamental facade of the complex like a deep-forest monkey, by way of the discreet little niche of an alley. Once there, he painted the transmitter's cone with a home-made, heavy metal coating that looked much like its normal coating of paint. The initial glazing did absolutely nothing, but as it dried, it oxidized quickly in the heat and humidity into a veneer that would eventually block the transmission of their signal by scrambling it to an unrecognizable state. That was expected to take two days to completely disrupt the device's ability, which gave them a set timeframe to work in.

Ron carefully descended the high perch and slipped back into his previous team, finishing the ghastly garbage pickup as quickly as they could. Once they were all back in the confines of the forest and surrounded by the other rebel leaders, the plans for the siege commenced.

The blacksmith from Gardilane, who was currently overseeing the construction of six massive weapons, each located one hoz from the edge of the clearing that surrounded the city, met with Ron.

"Have you prepared the devices we discussed?" Ron inquired of the thick-necked fellow.

"Yes, Ronin. Four of your designs have been erected except for the final construction of the throwing arms. Two others are a day behind schedule. They are all positioned as we agreed, and none have been discovered, as of yet."

"Excellent! Begin your final assembly."

The huge smithy nodded his acknowledgement and slipped away with four of his comrades.

"This is it fellas," Ron told the gathered group. "When those weapons are ready and in place, there will be no hiding them. We will be committed."

"Good!" Rasche. "It's time to get this moving! The men grow restless and worried at the delay."

"What about the Kreete's ships?" Jorin queried. "Will they use them against us?"

"That's tough to call," Ron countered, knowing full well how the Kreete would respond, from past experiences. They tended to do whatever it took to accomplish their objectives. "Their warriors' code will forbid it," he told the men, "and in their minds such weapons will not be needed since they can get unlimited reinforcements brought in. But the Kreete may be too proud to let the city fall...so if we do well, I just don't know."

"What about the shield device?"

"I don't know about that either. I'm still hoping it will come on line before we get too far into trouble, but if we can actually breech the outer walls, they will surely be tempted to use whatever it takes to defeat us. We'll simply have to hope for the best, and let fate unfurl its path. There's no turning back now.

"Have you notified everyone to vacate the city?"

"Yes," Jorin replied definitively. "All who can are gone, and as many others are waiting for the final order, so as not to raise suspicions."

"Give it! Get them out as quickly as possible at their next chance. We'll be at war by midday, day after tomorrow."

The couriers were summoned immediately and the order was given.

"May the Guardian protect us!" Rasche muttered as each commander saluted and went quickly to his station.

The bulk of the army they'd built over the past few santaris was dispersed to cover each of the seven roads leading out of Huinrag. There were two well-maintained, wide passages leading away to each point of the compass, save the west...the one across the great plateau. There was only one in that direction.

Each wagon entering the city from that moment on, for the next day and a half, left with as many humans as could safely be fit and concealed. It was extremely tense and dangerous duty, to be a driver of those vital ferries, but they had no small amount of volunteers. This was truly the most compassionate expression of solidarity that could be remembered on the planet. Nearly every faction of social life was seen and aided during that monumental movement of individuals without regard to any ties or disputes that had existed in the past. It was known, and understood, that this war was about survival of the Caronians as a species, not as some particular clan, or tribe, or race.

Along with that tenuous escape plan, every outgoing Kreete patrol was hunted down and massacred as soon as it was beyond sight of the city.

The rebels, by that time, had two hundred of the heavy bows, with ten arrows per weapon. When they attacked those patrols, they picked off the lead and tail soldiers and then closed the kill zone bit by bit. The Kreete warriors valiantly attempted to put up fights, but were overwhelmed quickly...surrounded, surprised, and outgunned. The humans only lost a dozen men as fully three entire Strike Teams and five Squads were annihilated.

As the schedule they held to ticked away its final few billots, it had been three days with no Kreete soldier having made it into the city. It was then that Ron began to notice a marked change in the watchmen on the high walls.

By the time the catapults were ready, Rasche guessed that about eighty percent of the human inhabitants of the city had made it out, but the sentries had grown much more alert, and more suspicious. When a loud order roared out from atop the high wall, from the leader of the security team over the main southern gate, the time had come.

"Search that wagon!" bellowed the Kreete Master Killer, after noticing a slight movement in the rear of the transport, just as it was reaching the expansive portal.

The Kreete detail on the ground moved in quickly, but the tarps that shrouded the rear of the vehicle suddenly flew back and arrows shot out instantly. The driver snapped his reins hard and out the gate they flew, the frightened horses running swiftly with their eyes wide. Large, heavy wooden arrows from the mounted emplacements above, struck the wide, wooden wagon but no one was killed.

An immediate lockdown of every gated entrance to the city was ordered, and Huinrag, the Kreete fortress of the southern provinces quaked with the sound of thunder as the massive wooden doors began to slam shut.

Ron and all the thousands of men situated at each of the roads began to get excited. Ten borts later, a strike team burst from the gate that the wagon had exited, their treen pulled chariots tearing along swiftly. They would overhaul the wagon in short order, of that they were confident.

The chariots made it just beyond the forest's edge before the noose that lay in wait for them cinched tight.

Ropes that had been placed across the wide road popped up, strapped to trees on one side and immense roukers on the other. Half of the Kreete were caught by their necks and hurled to the ground, then run over by their following allies. Their impressive statures standing tall in their chariots made an easy target for such a trap.

Those that were not badly injured from the rope instantly became the objective for two hundred archers firing from both sides. Several chariots wheeled about and raced back to the fortress, but a carefully buried log suddenly flipped up to deny them. It was made from a long, straight tree that had been split down the center and placed in a perfectly matching trough across the roadway, flat side up. As it was turned over, the remaining ditch was foot deep and two across. The treen leaped it easily, but the wheels of the transport dropped into that trench...and at the speed they were moving, they either ripped off, or catapulted the occupants twenty feet into the air. The treen that kept going were allowed to return to the city, but the ones that stayed to fight were skewered by the heavy bows. All of their masters were exterminated.

The Caronians didn't even try to question them since it was well known that Kreete soldiers could not be coerced to talk.

The army took possession of the chariots that were left and began hauling off the dead Kreete. They'd lost not one man!

As they returned to their positions at the forest's edge, they found the sentries on the high wall extremely cautious, especially when the empty vehicles were dragged back to the main gate, two of which were on their sides.

Ron listened to their radio chatter constantly, having now procured many of the electronic devices over the past weeks. He also watched carefully with his binoculars until, finally, he received word from his men that all was prepared. When he spotted the first soldier checking on the antennae, it marked Ron's cue. At that point, he made one last attempt at getting the Kreete's forces to commit to an outside attack.

"Have two thousand men move to the front and wait for my signal," Ron instructed. "We shall see what we can manage to bait out!"

The excited soldiers jumped to their positions quickly and held there.

Ron then strolled casually out to within vocal range of the guards up on the wall...Roelantish at his side, as usual. They each carried one of the giant, long shields...Kreete shields...and brandished no weapons.

"I wish to speak to your commander!" Ron bellowed.

Instead of opening fire on them like Ron had expected, the guard moved off and summoned his superior. Roe was surprised at that, but neither he nor Ron took their eyes off the enemy on that high perch. It took only a couple of borts, but the soldier in charge did emerge for the "less than cordial" meeting... and as he stepped up, he made an announcement.

"You will disband your army and prepare to be enslaved for your actions against..."

"Shut up and listen, slag!" Ron shouted at the eight-foot-tall, heavily armed, as well as armored, Kreete.

The leader shook with rage.

"Fire!" he growled at his men.

The Kreete archers fired their weapons but Ron and Roe brought up their huge, Kreete manufactured shields and weathered the attack effortlessly. Only two of the half dozen arrows even struck their target, but did not penetrate, so Ron and Roe stood up again.

"You are here in this land illegally!" Ron shouted. "We demand your immediate surrender of the city and disengagement of this world!"

The Kreete Master Killer laughed a deep, echoing, sarcastic belly laugh for a long while.

"Or what?" he finally asked.

Roe motioned his hand to Rasche and the two thousand armed fighters stepped into view. The Kreete commander scanned the militia's line of men, found no weapons of any significance, and so he motioned to his own troops.

There was a low, rumbling, screeching noise as the huge gated entrance swung aside, and Kreete warriors began to pour through that opening, forming a long combat line along the wall, directly opposite the enemy threat.

Five hundred Kreete soldiers in light armor stood facing Ron's army before the giant gate swung the other way, locking out those who might threaten the city.

Before the booming echo of those doors closing had settled, Ron turned to his men.

"Fire!"

A thousand archers set loose a flight of arrows that filled the sky, arching up and up...before raining down into the line of Kreete scouts, causing them to do as Ron and Roe had done...crouch down behind the protection of their shields. But what that common move did was exactly what the humans had hoped it would, because it concealed the true intention they had in store for the gray-skinned, tattooed horde.

Three of the gargantuan weapons that Ron had designed for the Caronians sprang into action. Each of those armaments utilized a webbed sling filled with a hundred bowling-ball-sized rocks, and was capable of reaching the wall of Huinrag easily.

As the Kreete regained their standing positions, following the rain of arrows, with only a dozen scouts badly wounded, a warning shout from above them was drowned out by their own battle cries that were meant to instill fear in their adversaries. Only an odd, broken shadow gave them a hint of warning about what was to come.

The rocks struck the line of scouts with devastating results, felling half of them on the spot. The others quickly leapt into motion, charging into battle to both avenge their comrades and get clear of the "kill zone" of whatever unknown weapon had been used. That should have worked well for them, from their perspective, but anticipation was half the battle...and Ron, Roe, Rasche, and Jorin had anticipated a great deal.

Ron and Roe bolted for their allies as arrows flew from the wall of the city and the ground troops as well, and they had to keep their shields to their backs to make it. But when they did, a new volley was on the way.

The Kreete army was closing fast, roaring out new battle cries in a terrifying rumble of menacing proportions. But when they reached halfway, they found themselves in range of the humans' heavy bows, and another half of them felt the sting of those powerful machines of war. Those who didn't fall there were doomed to another round of the "rock rain" as two more loads of equal size were fired from different machines in different locations, and pummeled them once more.

The range of those devices had been calculated masterfully by their operators. A third, identical machine struck then at the Kreete archers on the wall, killing half a dozen and scattering the rest to a more protective environment. Needless to say, there was substantial turmoil in the city after that.

Only seventy-three scouts even reached the forest's borders, and they never faltered in the slightest...not with their leaders watching, but three hundred archers firing at point-blank range, fifty spearmen, and a thousand swordsmen greeted them with extreme prejudice.

When the two foes finally collided however, the Kreete scouts were in such fervor that they didn't even feel the arrows, spears, and lances piercing their bodies. They wielded their own death tools as well as they could still manage, dealing out as much deadly punishment as they could...but it was to no avail. That melee' was over in less than five borts, and the bodies of the Kreete were stripped of their armor and weapons in full view of the fortress.

The huge weapons that had just decimated the Kreete's attack were of Earthly origin, having been recalled by Ron from, of all things, a television special he'd seen on a Public Broadcasting Station, back in his home town.

The Earth historians had long wondered about how medieval sieges were waged and won against monstrous fortresses with such primitive technologies of the day. They reconstructed enormous siege weapons that were capable of hurling three hundred pound rocks four hundred yards and could demolish any block and mortar structure ever built. The weapon was called a "Trebuchet", and Ron Allison had brought them to Caron!

Back in Gardilane, santaris in the past, together with Caronian craftsmen, Ron began experimenting with differing materials in various sizes until a suitable weapon was finally produced...one that could meet the needs of this particular venue. The results of those experiments had been devastatingly good there, as well as at Huinrag.

Ron and Roelantish walked slowly back to their previous position, out on that killing field...the brownish blood of the Kreete soldiers clearly showing on them both.

"You may collect your dead!" Ron told the commander. "We give you one billot!"

He and Roe then walked back to the woods. Their own army had suffered the loss of nearly fifty to either death or grievous injury, and so they made sure to see to them.

When the allotted time was up, Ron again tried to converse with the Commandant of the city. The Kreete hadn't bothered with their dead troops.

"You will abandon the city and return to Pigonta, where you will inform Gotliig that all Kreete must leave Caron!"

"That is not going to happen!" the Master Killer responded. "We have reinforcements coming, and by tomorrow you will all be crushed under our heels. Ten thousand Caronians will be butchered for this little uprising! By now my messengers will be arranging for..."

"There will be no help tomorrow...or the next day!" Ron announced with perfect confidence before pointing to the western road.

Two chariots raced across the open field at that location, heading for the city gates. At the sight of that, the commander's face grew even more pale than normal. His seven scouts lie in heaps at the deck of their rigs.

"Gather your remaining troops and personnel," Ron called to the commander on his high perch, "and we will grant them safe passage...as long as they disarm themselves first!"

"When we do not make contact at the appointed time," the Master Killer roared, "ships will be dispatched, and our situation will be known...and then you will all be destroyed!"

"No, by then 'you' will all be dead!" Ron corrected him with absolutely no equivocation in his voice.

"We shall see!" the commander retorted in a huff.

Ron gave another arm wave and three of the tree-sized weapons he'd designed for the Caronian army swished through the air. Each sent a three foot diameter chunk of expertly carved rock soaring across the beautiful blue sky above...crossing the four hundred peors of space in litas. One collided with the watch tower over the main gate, one into the walkway and through the inboard railing, and one into the outer wall, a hundred feet to the east. The watchtower, its personnel, and its heavy, turreted crossbow were obliterated. A six-foot section of the inner safety railing was torn free along with a good chunk of the walkway, and two of its outermost blocks of the giant wall shattered, with cracks spreading downward twenty feet.

Ron turned and retreated again to the safety of his command post. The siege of Huinrag was underway!

The leaders of the army had designated teams of men to load, fire, and support each of the trebuchets, non-stop. The sculptors worked round the clock as well and were adroit at their craft. They adjusted the size of the projectiles to allow for targeting changes...and they had dozens already made for each machine.

The massive arms of the war engines cleared the nearby treetops with a few feet to spare as they whipped past vertical. The slingshot style cradles shot up and over, releasing their cargo in grandiose, yet elegant arcs that terminated in collisions so violent that they could be felt through the ground all the way back to where they'd left. The gigantic platforms the devices rested on were mounted on huge, wooden wheels that were strapped with metal banding, allowing them to scoot back and forth with the action of the throwing arms and their immense counterweights, creating even more leverage...and thus more range.

Ron enjoyed watching the weapons operate, and even took a turn of duty on one of the rigs. It was twenty feet wide, forty feet long, and needed a relatively smooth, level patch of ground to operate properly. At each location, a road into the thick forest had to be made, and two thirds of the army had been encompassed in that all-important task at one point. Now those great machines pounded the fortress walls relentlessly.

After two solid days and nights of such bombardment, the wall beside the main gate was showing clear signs of weakening, and a large pile of the huge boulders lay peacefully at the base of the structure, having done their duty as well as their share of damage. The wall was no longer smooth and stout...its outer six feet of block having been blasted away halfway to the ground. Great cracks spread from the scene like giant spider webs, and the once stately avenue across the top was pock-marked with gouges and rubble.

The Kreete had no retaliation either. The weapons they had were designed for stopping a mass of charging men with spears, bows, and swords...after all, they were the rulers of worlds, and dominated these simple people with little need for real defenses. Now, with their communication array out of functionality, and the fleet occupied with another important task, they found themselves exceedingly vulnerable to this, here-to-fore unseen and unheard of weapon.

Inside the great city, they grew desperate.

At dusk that night however, a new development came to be.

"Ronin!" came a frantic cry from the front lines, where a thousand men were stationed along the forest's edge to keep watch. "Come quickly!"

Ron looked to Roe and they sprinted for the clearing. While the two nearby trebuchets were being reloaded, a process that started out taking nearly an entire billot, but now was down to merely twenty borts, a string of individuals were being lead out on top of the great wall.

Ron took the offering of a pair of binoculars from the sentry and scrutinized the scene, with Roe doing the same.

Five armored Kreete soldiers stood up there, and in front of each was a human child.

The first scout grabbed the boy in front of him by the neck...a youngster maybe ten cycles old...and then tossed him unceremoniously to the ground. The boy screamed all the way down, and then lay broken on the rock rubble below. Ron's vision instantly turned a heavy shade of red as his hatred for the vileness of the Kreete surged anew.

"Ronin! Shartae! Whoever you are!" roared the city commander. "We demand a meeting!"

Ron paused only briefly to think...no more than a couple of litas...but they clearly had no patience, and threw another of the children from the high perch straightaway.

"You dragen bastards!" Ron growled as his heart lurched and his stomach twisted.

He'd worried about such an act, even before the attack began. That's exactly why they'd tried so hard to get the humans to safety, either out of the city or into some safe spot within...knowing all along that such an accomplishment was impossible, but having no other recourse. Now they saw the results of their failure.

Ron gripped two of the heavy Kreete shields and moved forward. He had every weapon he owned on his person, and didn't even look back. This was pure and simple...they wanted him in the open. This was a trap!

Roe moved to his side quickly.

"No my friend!" Ron told him. "They want me! Stay here and stay alert. You will have to act swiftly! Something is up...I can feel it!"

Roe nodded painfully. He felt precisely the same way. Ron was walking into something...something very bad!

### Chapter Thirty

### Success

Finally, after more than a week and a half of nearly nonstop physical exertion, mostly on Neidar's part...at least in the sheer strength aspect...the front of the ship laid seventy percent exposed. Cache, Josy, and Neidar discussed their next move. They'd excavated a tremendous amount of dirt and rock, but the embankment the ship had struck was still looming very close. Due to that proximity, and the fact that it was a very loamy soil, there was much fear of more shifting of the sediment.

Their goal...the forward cannon's access panel, was directly under the ship's sixteen-feet-wide hull, which had barely a foot of clearance between it and the hard rock surface of the riverbed. Even that tiny amount of space had only been achieved through long, extremely taxing billots of repetitive chipping and gouging at the outer layer of the stone...the 'soft rock' stratum. Beneath that stood the solid, impenetrable heart of the granite-like mineral deposit. The makeshift tools they devised had done well, but could do no better than a narrow trough which would allow one of them to enter. That tight trench ended at a point which appeared to open up a bit further in...but there was only one way to know for sure.

There was no possibility that Neidar could fit into that constricted opening. Josy didn't have the technical knowledge to accomplish the task of accessing and extracting the necessary component without a great risk of damaging it, so it fell to Cache. Even with her protruding belly, her petite physique could still manage the slender avenue...barely. So with much trepidation, down she went onto her back, wriggling forward as best she could manage while pushing herself along with her hands like an inchworm.

At first she felt relief, as it was cool on that hard, moist slab of granite, out of the sun's warming radiation. However, the reflected light was dim, giving her a closing sense of claustrophobia that quickly threatened to derail her task. She worried profoundly that she might never leave that damp, tight space...but onward she pressed. Her resolve to complete her assignment wouldn't be deterred by anything as intangible as fear.

The three of them had discussed her safety at length and had devised a plan to provide her the greatest protection available. It involved her having rope tied to her ankles and wearing a cloth mask over her nose and mouth. In the event of a collapse of the unstable heap, the mask was meant to keep any dirt from either being inhaled by her, or having it forced into her by its fluidic mass. The rope was there to extract her as quickly as possible by Neidar's brute force. What seemed to be a terribly risky, ill-conceived plan was the best they could do in their time-sensitive, and resource deprived circumstances.

The slim gap they'd managed to construct in the soft soil of the bank was constituted mostly of moist sand, and so was dangerous. Several times during the past day and a half they thought they had succeeded, only to have the overlying weight of it press the nearly liquid material back into that slot time and again. So now, as Cache felt around for the access panel, her anxiety soared with every lita's passage. Her breathing became quick and shallow and her heart began racing...and she wasn't the only one in that state as Josylinia's condition nearly matched hers as well. While she mumbled prayers absentmindedly, she stared at her pregnant friend's fidgeting feet deep inside that narrow passage.

Cache couldn't get the panel opened, so she flipped on a small emergency light to investigate. She'd retrieved it from one of the tool kits in the ship and now had it dangling from a string about her neck. Instantly she saw the problem...it was still not completely cleared.

"I have to move some more dirt!" she called to her waiting partners before hauling away on another small rope she had strapped to her wrist. At the other end was a quart-sized bucket with a second line attached to it for removal.

The pail raked along her side as it passed up to her and she began excavating the remainder of the material as carefully as she could. It was slow and laborious work for that little woman but she had the area cleared in just over a billot. Josy and Neidar gently pulled the filled container out and emptying it each time she signaled, praying that the remaining earth wouldn't shift on her.

Finally, with the door accessible, she switched gears to the tool pouch she'd brought in with her, but found she couldn't open it fully. There was just not enough free space to work in. She was ultimately forced to maneuver her body further over, to wedge into an even smaller gap in order to perform that simple task, willfully pushing her fears of entombment out of her conscious thoughts. Cache then worked as swiftly as she could manage.

A few borts later, the panel swung to the side and she was peering up into the anticipated junction...her mouth dry and sweat streaming down her face even in the clammy, chilly environment she was in. The stress she was under with the confinement, the worry of her child's safety and that of her love being out in the world somewhere battling such a dangerous enemy, was exacting a toll on her she wondered if she truly could endure. Her hands quivered as she worked unblinkingly in the dim light of her lamp. Her blood pressure was unquestionably soaring, and her heart rate continued to climb to more than triple its normal pace.

The capacitor was behind two over-layers of wire bundles and tubing, and she was forced to inch up into the access well to reach it. Her delicate face ended up jammed hard against the lower surface of the ship as she manipulated the necessary connectors blindly. At one point, she mimicked Ron's habit of growling when the frustration of the tedious task pushed her even further to the edge.

"Are you all right?" Josy called to her, sounding very far away due to the muffling effect of the soft dirt merging with the naturally echoing effect of the hard stone.

"Yes! Almost have it!"

Finally, the capacitor popped free and she began wrangling it through the tangled compartment...until it got wedged between the wire bundles and the hatchway. Cache pulled and pushed and pried and twisted that keyboard-sized module until her frazzled nerves had had enough and then she screamed at it.

She released a long, deep, gravelly growl of pent up anger, yanking at the unit hard as her legs kicked for greater leverage...and then...there was nothing!

Cache felt the small void of soil-free space instantly evaporate into a heavy, suffocating press of moistened sand and gravel. Her vocal release at her predicament had left her little air in her lungs and what was there was forced out from the crushing weight that was suddenly all around her. That was when she really began to panic!

She tried to move her head about, to reach up into that access bay for air, but it was not to be. The trap was sprung and she was completely immobile. The litas ticked away as she attempted to kick herself free with no luck at all. Her coherent thought began to fade soon afterward, and she tried to focus her mind...for one last chance.

"Oh, Guardian above," she prayed hastily, "save my baby! Please! I know I have done things...things my people would be ashamed of, things I am ashamed of, things that have brought your wrath upon me...but she deserves a chance at life! 'He' deserves a chance at knowing his child! Please save our baby!"

Cache's tears merged with the mud as she drifted into the blackness and was lost.

Time went by, but she had no recollection of it, and it really didn't matter. It may have lasted an eternity for all she could tell from her purgatory of utter nothingness. All that did matter was the very next sensation she found herself experiencing. It was simple...brightness! Total, unrelenting, harsh, painful brightness...then it was the taste of dirt...and then it was the gut-wrenching force of pressure that was slamming down on her chest. Finally, it was the smell of the air laced with moisture, and sand, and flowers, and...she was alive!

Cache coughed and spit out the sand from her mouth and snorted at the material in her nose, wheezing and vomiting...and inhaling! She doubled over and rolled to her side to expel all that was exiting her mouth, and then she could hear a quivering sigh of thanks emanating from a woman next to her. It was Josylinia. She held Cache's shoulders and cried a desperate thanks to the 'Watcher' above, tears now dripping from her gorgeous cheeks as well...tears of tremendous relief.

"Cache!" she whispered hoarsely as the trembling of her hands quaked against Cache's heaving shoulders. "I thought...I thought that you...I was afraid the two of you were gone!" she finished, her hand feeling for the life inside her friend.

She was rewarded with a strong kick, and broke out in a ragged bit of laughter as her blonde partner gasped and pulled her own hand over to check that point as well. She quickly joined Josy in the jubilation of that movement, though still having difficulty breathing.

Josy pulled her up to a sitting position and the two women clung to one another for a long while, crying and laughing, and rocking back and forth. A short time later, Josy helped Cache to the river and washed her face, thoroughly rinsing the dirt from her nose and eyes.

"What happened?" Cache finally inquired after the grit was gone from her mouth. "How did I get out?"

"It was Neidar!" Josy explained. "When the ground shifted, he tugged hard on your safety rope, but nothing happened. You were too far in. He dove under the ship as far as he could and ripped out great handfuls of dirt until he could reach one of your feet. He used every ounce of his strength and hauled you out of there, pushing a huge pile of sand as you came, too.

"It had been quite a while by then and we feared you were dead, but I worked on you for a couple of borts...and then you came back to us! It's truly a miracle!"

"Thank you, Josy! Thank you so much for saving me...and the little one!"

She hugged Josy hard...forever in her debt...now two-fold.

They then made their way back to the modest camp and Cache thanked her brother, the giant tattooed warrior of the species that was her sworn enemy. Neidar was his usual, gruff self and waved off her sentimentality, instead handing her the hard won prize that she'd risked her life for.

"What the...?" Cache said to the Kreete who stood three feet taller than she, looming over her like a squat, stout tree. "How did you...?"

"It was in your hand when I pulled you out of there. I do not know how...but it was."

The trio all hugged again...so thankful for the blessing they'd been granted...and more hopeful than they'd felt in quite a while.

They took a long break for lunch and then were back at it...Cache refusing to delay any further...knowing that every setback could mean disaster for the army. She spent a good deal of time carefully cleaning and examining the module before beginning the installation.

It wasn't a perfect swap, it being quite a bit bulkier than the unit they were replacing, but a few billots later, they all held their breaths as Neidar triggered the main power buss. An instant later they cheered like lottery winners when the cockpit lit up with a thousand tiny lights.

After that, they immediately began a new system by system diagnostic scan, and spent the next two days in the mundane task of repairing every primary system in the ship, until...

"We need to fire the engines," Cache proclaimed during their evening meal, "to be sure they can support a stable drive field."

"I agree," Neidar concurred. "We also need to get the shuttle moved out into the open to inspect what unknown damage we may have in the forward section."

"But the satellites will detect that, will they not?" Josy interceded.

Cache nodded her head, her thoughts racing to find a solution around such a problem.

"Not if we wait until a storm," the Kreete added. "If it is sufficiently heavy, it should mask the engines' power and heat signatures.

Cache raised her eyebrows at that. "I had not considered that scenario. Well done! Josy, you know the weather patterns in this region better than me. When do you think such an opportunity might arise?"

"Any day now. We are really overdue for our crop-drenching rains."

"Very well then, we should make everything ready for our trip, so when the time comes, we waste none of it."

The clouds drifted in that night, but the heavy rains held off another day...a day that dragged on for what seemed a lifetime. The following morning though, a torrent of pounding precipitation woke the trio from a sound sleep in the predawn billots, and they leaped into action quickly.

The shuttle's coded start sequence had been bypassed by Cache as soon as the power was restored, so now she cycled through the new protocols smoothly. The left power plant burst into life without hesitation, but it ran poorly. It took some time to make the adjustments that allowed the proper parameters to be restored, but she managed it, and then she started over on the right.

At midday, she throttled up the twin engines, urging them to greater and greater power until the craft sat shaking and roaring, fighting hard to free itself as if it were a wild animal in the snare of a trapper.

The violence of the rumbling was enough to blur the instruments so far out of focus that the trio was deeply worried the hull would simply rip in half under the stress. But then it began to move. Inch by inch, the shuttle vibrated itself out from under that collapsed embankment, straining and groaning ominously until it finally succeeded in pulling the bulk of the ship clear of the prison it had been so unceremoniously driven into.

The lashing, windswept torrent from the heavens immediately began its slow and methodical removal of the piled up dirt and debris on the nose of the transport. A few borts later and the forward-most windshield finally began to allow light into the gloomy cockpit once more.

Cache set the craft down again a hundred feet clear of the embankment, and cycled the power plants through every aspect of their ranges. Those hastily repaired engines produced readings good enough to give them all a great deal of relief. Their weeks of toil, and her near death experience, hadn't been toward a futile endeavor. The ship would fly again!

A few billots before nightfall, Neidar and Josy ventured out into the horrid weather to examine the front of the transport. It was crunched pretty badly, but the fuselage seemed to be mostly intact...at least enough to make use of the craft since the shields could be adjusted to shed the wind forces away from that area. Several more billots flashed by as they went over their plan carefully, and then one last, quick burst from their weather radar confirmed that the system they were in stretched all the way back to the Taerdrasseg Mountains. (They dared not leave that scanning device on too long, or risk detection) Their window of opportunity had arrived at last, and they meant to make use of it.

Neidar strapped into the pilot's seat and Cache took the secondary position. They then carefully lifted off and pointed the ship to the west-southwest, and away they flew. Both of them watched the scanners unblinkingly for signs of other aircraft that might indicate they'd been spotted, which would most likely mean their demise, but none came.

They flew relatively low and slowly, not wanting to strain the ship, and trying to keep the outputs of their engines at the minimums, to avoid being detected.

The cloud layer was dense all the way up to seven hoz above them, and the more buffer between them and the satellites, the better.

"What are the coordinates of the site?" Neidar asked once they were on their way.

"I cannot be sure. I did not memorize them since I carried a locator device, but I lost it when I was captured. We will have to find it by the landmarks I remember. When you get to the highest ridgeline, from this heading, turn south and we will go off the ground-imaging sensors for the topographical orientation."

Neidar nodded his confirmation and she slipped to the rear of the ship to begin her thermal protective layering that would hopefully keep her alive until she reached Safe Haven. She really wished she had her Raulden winter gear back in her hands at that point.

Josylinia was already wrapping her feet and limbs in whatever bits of clothing and blankets she could find. It was crude and ungainly to move about in, but was the only insulation she had. She topped it all off with a weatherproof suit that was in the emergency compartment of the cabin...kept for such occasions when the crew had to ditch in some inhospitable location. She was of course forced to make some major adjustments to the garment which had been designed for Kreete warriors, but she managed well enough.

Cache had to be even more inventive than Josy...she being more slight than her brunette partner...and they worked together well to get the job done.

Once they were as thickly protected as they could get, the two women each grabbed an oxygen canister from the med-station and put it in their packs, and then attached another to their outer garb. When, (or if) they were to gain the opening of the cave, the trip would take over two billots to reach the Raulden station and they would be cutting it close with the breathing gear. But again, it was all they had to work with, so they just planned what they could. It would have to be good enough!

Cache reentered the flight deck when it was time, as they closed in on the colossal landscape of the mountain range. She saw the reproduction of that outer environment displayed on the interior of the ship's windows, which were in a total grayed-out condition from the horrible weather outside.

"Okay," Cache directed, "fly along here...to that plateau...all right, now further up those peaks...no, no...between there...yes, perfect."

She coached him along for a long while before...

"There! Stop! Right there! Let me take a look out the side viewer."

She had to rely on Neidar manipulating the controls because the wrappings on her hands were too thick to do anything dexterous at all.

"Zoom in on that little opening. Can you move in closer? Perfect. Hold here!"

Cache hurried to the rear of the cabin and grabbed the remaining stretcher from the med-station.

"Open the door, Neidar!" she called back as she reached up to place her mask on.

The door to the cockpit suddenly slid into the closed position and a clear and poignant sound erupted from the belly of the ship, causing Josy to flinch noticeably.

"What was that?"

Cache's stomach seemed to twist painfully as she realized exactly what had just happened.

"He fired a locater flare!"

"What? Why? Why would he do that?"

"He has betrayed us to his fleet. We are surrounded!"

She ripped her right hand clear of her makeshift glove and quickly dug into her pack, pulling out a small device that looked like a cellular phone. It was a mobile link to the ship's main computer, used for maintenance and troubleshooting. She had made some interesting modifications to it.

"Cache Kuar...priority one override! Disengage flight deck controls...voice command only! Initiate hover!"

"No! That cannot be!" Josy cried as she ran to the door separating them from the cockpit and began beating on it, her thoughts jumbled and tangled into a frantic, confused mess. "Neidar! Neidar! Open this door! What are you doing?"

"Descend sixty peors!" Cache said into the small device. "Drift south forty peors! Hold!" Cache then turned to her partner hesitantly. "He has his own agenda, Josy! And if you are not with him..." she added with a stern, scrutinizing look, "we must leave! Now!"

Cache replaced her hand covers, gripped her oxygen mask, and readied herself for the intense cold that was about to be thrust upon her...eighty degrees below freezing. She would have to move fast, get out of the fifty hoz per billot gale that was always blowing at that altitude (unless it was even worse), and into the narrow caverns. She gave herself three borts to get that accomplished before she would be too cold to move.

"Josy! I am going! I am going to save Ron and help Caron! Are you coming?"

Josy turned back to the petite bundle of talking thermal layers that was positioned at the door, and for just a split lita was unsure about her decision. Then she heard her brother through the door.

"She has jammed the controls! Aaaaaarrrrggghhhh! I will stop her myself...stand by!"

Then there was another voice...one coming over the radio.

"Do not let her reach that cave! Stop her now! Kill her if you have to!"

Josy bolted for the door where Cache had already given the order; "Open cargo hatch!"

The wide door slid neatly out of the way and the little Raulden woman put aside her delicate condition and leapt from the sill like a marine commando attacking his enemy, with the stretcher leading the way. She thought for just an instant that she was on her own, but that changed right away.

Josy landed next to her and gasped painfully at the first taste of the intense cold. Living in the hot, humid, tropical locale she'd been reared in hadn't prepared her for such a huge shock. She had little time to complain though as Cache was already churning her legs hard.

They were lucky that a substantial amount of the snow under them had a good, hard crust to it, so they didn't sink beyond their knees. As it was though, it took every ounce of their strength to make it the forty feet to the base of the cave entrance, at which point the cave's mouth was eight feet above them.

Together they propped the stretcher against the mountain's short rise and Cache headed up, using the strapping that normally secured a patient into the basket as ladder rungs. She struggled a bit to make the transition to the slippery rock shelf but Josy gave her a less than delicate boost and she was there. Hurriedly Cache spun about on her knees and seized Josy's outstretched, heavily wrapped hand, pulling with all the traction she could find.

"Look out!" Cache screamed, but Josy could neither have heard her through the gale, nor done anything to comply with that warning.

Neidar was at the base of the stretcher and reaching for her. His clawed fingers made to clamp around his sister's ankle...but then they were falling away. In a flash, the eight and a half foot tall beast-man was reduced to half that height...or at least, his position changed to match that scenario. The thin crust of the snowy mountain had supported the lighter women, but couldn't sustain a being of his size and weight. He broke through the firm surface and sunk to his chest in the super-cold snow...and there he was trapped. He could neither dig out nor pull himself clear, and his body's reserve of oxygen was at its limit.

In the cockpit he'd been breathing the compressed air of the ship, but hadn't taken the time to acquire one of the oxygen tanks the women were carrying, and he knew now that he'd made a critical error in his haste. He might have been able to get back to the ship had he been so prepared, with his thick, genetically toughened skin protecting him well enough for a short while, even in that environment. Nevertheless, he couldn't last without air...and at that altitude, there simply was none.

He made one last attempt to stop the pair by ripping the stretcher out from under Josy, but her knee was already on the ledge, and Cache was hauling away. He watched them disappear into the cave with his last few litas of life.

He had failed.

### Chapter Thirty-one

### Safe Haven

Cache Kuar and her accomplice, Josylinia Gitove slipped and slid hurriedly into the mouth of the cave, trying desperately to stay on their feet and grabbing for anything they could find to slow them down. However, they inevitably tumbled unceremoniously to the floor of that narrow fissure the instant they hit a natural ramp of frozen precipitation which had accumulated in that particular location. That slippery sluice shot them twenty peors into the darkness, it taking a hard turn just beyond the opening. And they were fortunate that it did too, because as the rounded shape of the Raulden woman piled onto her Kreete partner, the shuttle that had delivered them was enveloped in a blinding flash of plasma energy. The blast ruptured the ship's fuel cells which then exploded with enough power to clear away every crystal of ice and snow from the mountain for a hundred peors in every direction. It also ejected Neidar's body out and down the mountain more than a hoz to the east.

The resulting concussion pushed the two women deeper into the rock cavern, but not into its walls, so aside from a pronounced ringing in their ears, they were unharmed.

"Neidar!" Josy screamed...her loss, her anger, and her fear, all meshing incoherently in her mind.

Cache had been in such scrapes before and so didn't hesitate further, her feet stirring to get herself and Josy up and passed the next sharp turn; out of harm's way. Josy was dazed a bit, but more confused about what had just occurred with her sibling, so she just accepted Cache's urgings blindly and they dived forward into the blackness of the cave.

That gloom wasn't long-lived though as more weapons' fire slammed into the opening of their escape route and lit up the ancient natural corridor well, causing the girls to shade their eyes and keep moving.

Cache hastily tore her hand free of its wrappings again and pulled out the electronic device once more, punching up a new frequency. She then pulled her mask away from her face.

"Emergency! Emergency! Alert! Cache Kuar...Emergency mode to 'Defense One'!"

They were still moving as quickly as they could manage with small flashlights they each carried pinned to their outer layer to guide them along, but they stumbled often on loosened rocks that had rained down because of the attack. Cache's adrenaline was surging so strong though she was out of breath almost immediately and had to stop to take a couple of extra huffs from her oxygen tank.

"Emergency mode to 'Defense One'! Confirm!" she repeated sternly. No reply, so they pushed forward again.

The continuous roaring from the bombardment of the attacking ships at their rear was deafening, and the vibrations from the shockwaves of exploding rock nearly forced them to the ground at every step, so both women bounced against the cold walls often. That abuse took its toll quickly and so it wasn't much longer before they were forced to pull up once more.

They waited there for a few litas, leaning hard against the wall of the cave while they caught their breaths, becoming light-headed quickly at that extreme altitude, even with the oxygen supplement. (They were each trying to make their tank last as long as possible, so they weren't letting it run full strength all the time)

Before they could get going again though, a light appeared in the tunnel up ahead and grew brighter with each passing lita.

Josy started coming back around to full awareness by then and grew even more anxious as that light approached, not knowing exactly what it might represent.

A large Cnaut suddenly hovered around the far turn, illuminating the passage as it went. It slowed as it approached...stopping directly in front of Cache as if there was nothing but peace and serenity in the tunnel. She placed her bare hand on its surface and the sentry robot instantly changed. The soft light it was producing flashed into such brilliance that the cave for the next hundred peors was turned as bright as daytime and a dozen tiny lights flashed and swirled about its rounded casing.

"Cache Kuar...confirmed! Emergency lockdown initiated!"

At that instant, the sound and flashing light from behind them vanished, even though the ground still shook violently. Josy glanced back and saw a solid rock wall where the passage they just came through had been.

"How did that...?"

"Who is this person?" the sentry robot asked in a calm, tranquil voice.

"Place your hand on the Cnaut's shell and give it your full name."

Josy did as she was instructed and the information was processed.

"She is not Raulden. Friend, foe, or hostage?"

Josy looked fearfully at Cache, wondering exactly what this thing would do if she were declared "foe". She was well aware of what the Kreete's versions of such devices were capable of, and so she pulled back with fear.

"Friend," Cache declared decisively, gripping Josy's hand firmly in hers. "Assign her level three security access, please."

"Affirmative!"

"What is the status of the mountain?"

"Twenty-one Kreete vessels of various size and threat are scanning the mountain with extremely powerful sensors. It will not be long before...too late! They have located the ship!"

" _Darlile_! Emergency mode...Ron Allison protocol; 'Reciprocity'! Initiate now!"

Far above their position, where she had lain dormant for all this time, the black super-ship accepted Cache's orders and began to tremble. Her batteries were full and ready, and the protective matrix that had shielded Cache and Ron against the entire two-Dreadnought armada that the Kreete had sent to destroy them flashed into place instantaneously. She could not fire back...not without her engines running, but once the Cnauts dug her out, that wouldn't take too long!

The single most coveted, most feared, most devastating weapon the Kreete had ever faced was now awake!

"Please follow me!" the beach-ball-sized android instructed...beginning to float back the way it had come.

"Please note that we do not have sufficient oxygen to make it to the 'facility'...and it is very cold," Cache told their guide.

"Mednauts have been dispatched! They will have thermal suits," the sentry responded softly.

"Why has the planetary shield not initiated?"

"There have been setbacks. The drilling team has need of your guidance."

"Oh no!" Cache thought. "They have not even completed the drilling?"

They then began their two-billot trek at as fast a pace as the ladies could endure, the way being tight, winding, and constantly uphill. A billot later, an oblong, yellow cylinder with red piping stripes met them in a relatively wide point in the passage, and they both shivered sharply as they stripped their makeshift cold-weather gear off and climbed into the fresh, heated attire that the Mednauts had brought them. With a fully enclosed, pressurized, and clean encasement that was warm enough to make them both sigh with relief, they took up the trek again, this time at a faster pace.

Along with heat, the suits also had water bladders...which they drained immediately...and an open-able port for slipping a wafer snack through. It felt like forever since they'd last eaten and so they devoured several of those.

Another boon was that the radios in the head-gear put Cache in touch with the drilling team and they got her caught up with their problem while she ate and marched.

They had reached a substratum of ore that resisted everything they tried in conventional drilling techniques, and even with their advanced science, it simply would not give.

"Send me a breakdown of the material."

Cache stared at the molecular structure of the ore for barely a lita before she knew exactly why they could not penetrate it.

"You have been using laser drills?" she asked quickly.

"Of course."

"Well, that is the reason you fail. This material is known to me...intimately. You cannot allow energy to strike this material...at least not in the frequency range your drills operate at. Get with Ketlical and have him go to Jametid and look in my lab...where we constructed...

"The INTELEX."

"Yes, that is correct. He will find what you need to get through that layer."

"Excellent. Please stand by."

A bort later, the technician spoke again. "The message has been sent. We should have it in a billot."

"How is the _Darlile_ holding up?" Cache asked.

"The ship's position inside the depression in the mountain protects sixty percent of the vicinity surrounding it, so the _Darlile_ has been able to triple the layers of its shielding on the exposed area. It reports stable containment at a drain of thirty percent per billot."

Cache calculated the time it would take the Cnauts to reach the dark warbird through the snow and ice and clear the engine intakes.

"That will be cutting it close!" she realized. "We have to pick up the pace even more!"

The two women were jogging by then and Josy could sense the impending urgency in Cache's voice so she didn't utter the word of warning she wanted to. The physical and mental stress her partner was under was very dangerous to the child, and she feared the worst.

### Chapter Thirty-two

### Man's Best Friend

Ron Allison strode out onto the grassy field at the base of the Huinrag fortress...the wide, open expanse that separated the two mortal enemies...his senses vibrating with warnings of their own. He was watching for archers at the ramparts at first, but he saw no one so armed. Needless to say, he swept the wall with his eyes constantly.

"What are they going to pull on me?" he repeated in his mind, scanning the upper section of the crumbling blockade.

The skies to the north were bright and clear, deeply blue, and resplendent. He glanced back quickly to see that his men had stayed put, and noted the line of demarcation of a massive storm front, just to the south of their position. It stretched westward as far as he could see, past the high edge of the Greishere Plateau, and was black and menacing. The naturally high winds blasting off of that furnace-hot region was keeping the front from moving any farther north and his thoughts flashed briefly to Cache. His pride in that gutsy little woman swelled for a moment, and he hoped her mission was successful...then it was back to his own business.

Halfway across the three hundred peors of open field, Ron paused. He placed the edges of the two shields on the ground at his sides, relieving his arms of their considerable weight. The Kreete could carry such protection easily, but without their massive bodies to counter the load, he was at a definite disadvantage in such a task.

"I am here!" Ron roared at the enemy...his contempt well displayed through his voice. "I thought I was at war with the Kreete...the terror of the galaxy! What kind of warriors do we have in this great fortress of Huinrag...that they would hide behind children for protection...that they would kill the innocents to shield their supposedly superior soldiers? All I see are cowards!"

"We hide nowhere, 'puny one'!" bellowed Meerstal Chardaal, the governing authority of the city, standing next to the military commander. "You see only what you want to see! And that matters not to me. These worthless slaves were only meant to attract your attention! Now that you are here..." he waved his arm and the other scouts discarded their charges as well, hurtling them to their young deaths.

Ron vibrated with rage, and tears welled in his eyes for their cruel and untimely passage. The heavy leather straps of the shields he held to creaked and groaned under the escalating pressure of his powerful digits. His breath grew deep and his heart pounded in his ears as he seethed with repugnance for his enemies.

"You gutless dung eaters!"

"I want to know if you truly are the champion of these rabble people," Meerstal asked then. "Will you stand for them against a true warrior?"

"I see no 'true' warriors on that wall...only the contemptuous, pompous, overly boastful pigs that most call the Kreete!"

Ron could easily tell that Meerstal was livid. His gray skin was well adorned with tattoos of his many victories, but its flush of heat was clearly apparent. However, the giant soldier held his temper.

"Then you would not be opposed to a simple fight!"

"I came a very long way to do just that!" Ron returned, feeling his excitement building. The Shartae gladiator in him was itching for such a duel, to avenge those poor young people whom he'd been forced to watch die.

"Good! Stand ready. I will be right there!"

Ron waited as patiently as he could, still scanning the walls for some duplicitous act. It took several borts, but eventually, the great doors parted...opened by tremendous roukers that could push hard enough to move the mounting debris that now encumbered the swing of the heavy gates.

Meerstal stepped through proudly, his ax in one hand and his broad shield in the other. Ron could tell that he also sported a long and short sword, and guessed a couple of throwing knives were there as well.

The blood red color of the Master Killer's uniform was easily identifiable as he stepped forward wearing no armor. That fact surprised Ron quite a bit since he felt sure the fellow was hardly the brave soul he claimed to be.

He approached to within a few hundred feet before stopping. The wind was light and his voice carried easily to the army at Ron's back.

"We will do battle the old way! The winner of this contest claims victory over the field. You win, and the city is yours. I win and I will allow your troops to surrender into slavery."

"I will fight you...but I do not speak for this army! They are free men, and not mine to command."

"Agreed!" cried Rasche at the head of his troops.

The entire band of men within earshot heartily accepted the Kreete's challenge with a roaring cheer. They all felt...down to each man...that Ronin was about to win this battle. He could not be defeated! It simply wasn't possible.

Ron never took his eyes off of his adversary. He felt neither pride nor joy from those men's respect and admiration of him. The red haze clouded such thoughts. His mind was on the battle ahead...and on his need to bleed this Kreete scum.

"Very well!" Meerstal smiled.

Ron noticed that the city gates hadn't closed...which seemed extremely odd to him. He wondered at that for just a moment before...

"Then let us get to it!" the governor announced.

He moved off to the right, perpendicular from a direct line towards Ron, which would have been natural if he were closer, but since he was still over two hundred feet away, it puzzled Ron...at first.

Ron held his shields firmly, still waiting for some kind of trap to spring...a sniper...or something worse. Suddenly, his skin stood out in bumpy goose flesh. He'd heard a sound! It was a sound that reached deeply into his subconscious...as if dredging up an old scene that had been burned into his memory...one which shook him fiercely.

It came from the opening in the massive doorway. It was several fast-moving, running feet...and then came a shouting voice. "Move! Move back!"

Ron's eyes darted to the leader who was still drifting away, then back to the door. His brow burst with sweat, further convincing him that he was in grave danger, yet still not quite sure why.

"What the hell is he trying to pull?" Ron asked himself as his mind raced to clarify his position.

He knew he could make it back to his men before anyone could catch him, even on a chariot, but a new reverberation reached him then...one that sent ice shooting through his veins. He instantly forgot all about the nine-foot-tall menace that had challenged him...as well as the army at his back. He knew that sound! It haunted his dreams occasionally, from a latent recollection of Kaskle's. A strong, distinct pattern of feet hitting hard ground...of angry, rumbling growls...and it approached extremely quickly. A half lita later, Ron Allison's worst fears came to be!

A Redalien tracker burst through the door and stopped incomprehensibly fast...its long claws biting into the ground deeply.

"Oh shit!" Ron whispered, while even stronger sentiment ripped through his men.

The creature's handler sprinted out the door, terribly winded and red-faced, and then pointed at Ron.

"Kill!"

The next few moments were enough to permanently imprint a new, fresh memory across Ron's brain. The sight and sounds of a creature that was considered the most perfectly lethal killing machine in the known universe burned its way across Ron's synapses as if with a branding iron. The beast threw back its head and uttered its infamous scream that carried across the rolling land for several hoz, bringing every man to attention, and a shiver down every spine.

Fortunately for Ron, he had a familiarity with such creatures that rivaled nearly every other man, and it allowed him to react instead of panic. He had absolutely no chance against the beast...that much everyone knew. He couldn't fight it or outrun it...so he did the only thing he could.

The Kreete shields had two sets of carrying straps, for wielding in two different manners. Each was designed to match the type of battle they might find themselves in...one lower and one upper set. He quickly slipped his legs into the lowers and his arms through the uppers, locking them together with his powerful, vise-like grip...and then he just fell backwards.

As his body headed downward, he saw the tracker burst into motion a hundred peors away, and it was on him as he struck the grass. The creature's horrendous claws scraped against the interlocking shields hard, crushing Ron to the turf forcefully and emptying his lungs of air, but he held on. He heard the beast's teeth grate across the metal barrier of those shields and felt even more pressure, but still he held on.

The intelligent animal swiped again, this time digging into the ground and catching the lip of his protection. It slung him over ten feet up and twenty feet over, and yet still he hung on, rolling back into his turtle-like position instantly when he landed, and then he heard a sound that gave him a glimmer of hope.

The unmistakable thud of hundreds of arrows impacting the ground, while still others whistled through the air made his ears perk up. The reaction of dozens of them striking home on the creature did too, as it howled in anger and pain. It didn't leave him though, and grew even more intent to get at him as its teeth smashed against his shields with painful results. Next, a tremendous swat allowed one of the tracker's claws to tear a swath of metal clear, right at Ron's eye level.

He saw the tracker then, as it slammed its weight down on him and two forepaws raked another few gouges into his shielding. Another volley of arrows took flight, but the animal was ready, and just out ran them. Ron heard the wooden missiles imbedding in the ground, and then the beast was back.

It caught the edge of the metal again and when Ron landed this time, it was already there. Ron's arms were still tangled in the straps as that huge, gaping cavern of six-inch long teeth plunged toward him. The animalistic instincts in him snarled and growled back, even though he was less than helpless...but then...somehow...it was gone! It was gone and the most hellacious fight ever witnessed on any planet had erupted!

The roaring, snapping, rending, and screaming was enough to make Ron deaf, so close was the clash to his prone form. He hastily disengaged himself from the shields and leapt to his feet once again...and his mouth dropping open immediately.

There were two of them! Two trackers on the same planet...on the same field...and the brawl was nothing short of stupendous!

Flash had come to Ron's rescue, blasting in through the center of his army at the first utterance of the Kreete's beast. The other animal was larger by twenty percent, it being a fully grown adult female, but what Flash couldn't make up for in mass and brute strength, he made up for in sheer, blazing speed! He'd hit the female animal broadside, just in time to keep those horrible teeth from ending Ron's life, and ripped a terrible wound into her fore-shoulders and neck...but a tracker is so incredibly tough that it hardly mattered. She gave as good as she got, and in only litas, both animals were heavily adorned with ghastly wounds and splattered with blood.

Ron's bow was out and an arrow pulled to his ear in a blink, and when Flash saw that, he attacked straight in, a very dangerous move with the size difference, but it forced the female to brace herself, freezing her for just an instant...all that Ron needed. The arrow sunk to its fletching at that range, and the female's head jerked to see her attacker, and then Flash struck her.

Ron and his eight-legged speed demon teamed up at that point...Flash keeping her away from Ron, and he slowing her down for Flash. Ron put six arrows into her body before she could gather herself...abruptly giving up on catching the smaller, younger creature and concentrating on her initial objective...Ron!

She leaped at him one more time, but as Flash clamped onto her again, she just kept on coming, dragging him with her. She was determined to get one of those threats out of the way, and Ron was the logical choice.

Another arrow slammed into her chest as she closed, and then Ron had no other choice. His swords cleared their sheaths with a chiming, metallic ring and the infamous, roaring cry of Kaskle's ancestors screamed from his lips.

That eerie, hate-filled, ominous roar sent shivers sweeping through Meerstal Chardaal...shivers of doubt. He had seen Ron at work in the Retribution Games too many times in the past, and that memory, together with his unprecedented and extraordinary partner, gave the Master Killer grave misgivings.

The female tracker swatted at Ron with a blazing forepaw and lost part of it to the razor-edged, ebony blade. Ron's internal systems were running on pure adrenaline and his moves were faster than ever. It wasn't enough by far to have survived such a creature on his own, but Flash had her firmly in his grasp and snapped his head back and forth like a fighting dog, disrupting her balance and destroying her agility. Her strikes were still a blur but Ron kept retreating with his blades at "guard-high", hoping for the best. If he could survive long enough, maybe Flash could finish her.

She got one strike on him that would have easily ripped his entire spine out had it not been for the fact that her claws hooked his scabbard. Miraculously, that impenetrable case for his ebony weapon once again transferred the blow from a killing strike to merely a bad wound. Her six-inch-long claws only penetrated an inch into Ron's lateral muscles, leaving a new set of gashes to freshen the marks of his fading ones, and hurled him clear of her reach. But it wasn't fast enough to stop him before he'd sunk his short sword to the hilt under her striking arm.

Ron hit the ground rolling and came up throwing one of his long knives. His hands flipped twice more, burying all three of those daggers into her chest before she had time to close the gap with him again. He managed to stay just out of her reach though, backpedaling quickly and waving that dark blade, until Flash had finally driven her mad enough to incite her attention back on him.

With a motion that was so quick it forced Ron to jump, she twisted back around and latched onto his corded neck. Instead of ignoring the inexperience creature, she had in fact, lulled the youngster into thinking her entire focus was on Ron. She'd baited him to commit to his hold with enough force, and waited to fatigue him through his nonstop thrashing of his full weight against hers. Now she had the pup...and it was a sure death grip! Her long teeth sank into his neck and pinched off his airway, squeezing...squeezing.

Ron could feel Flash's anxiety, and then his determination. He would not let go his hold, even though he knew he was finished. Ron started to rush in but doubted he could do enough damage in time to save his partner, until...he spotted a familiar point! It was just a small cleft of vulnerability...one that Flash's own mother had shown him as she lay dying from the horrible brutality of her Kreete masters.

Ron's hand flew back...so small a target...it had to be perfect...he would not miss! His jaw locked shut tightly as his arm swung forward and down, and a shard of blue steel accelerated away.

Flash's neck was at the breaking point and his eyes were glazing over when, suddenly he found himself liberated. The great jaws of the female went from crushing to limp in an instant. He shook himself free hurriedly and leaped clear, refilling his empty lungs and sweeping his huge head about anxiously. Then he quickly sped around his foe as well as his friend, checking all angles of his opponent.

When he saw that the threat was indeed gone, Flash approached the huge female animal closely. She was completely lifeless. His large head whipped around to regard Ron, and then the two of them joined in a victory cry that would never be matched...a human man and a Redalien tracker...normally natural enemies, and now instantly legendary allies. That conjoined utterance carried well out into the city, as well as the countryside...causing deep-seeded feelings in both groups of beings, with dramatically opposing views.

When that heart-stopping sound died off, Ron searched for Meerstal. He had hastily retreated back to the fortress during the conflict, and now a new sound could be heard as a thousand Kreete soldiers poured from the gate...out into the heavy dusk of the coming night. Ron gripped his beautifully ornate short sword, pulling it from its grisly scabbard before retrieving his knives, and then together he and Flash left the scene hastily.

"Are you injured badly?" Ron asked the beast.

"Will survive."

"Good! Thank you again, my young friend! Now go far from this place. It will not be safe!

"Hold your fire!" Ron ordered at the top of his lungs, as they approached the army.

He turned back just in time to see Flash accelerate forward into a literal blur, and disappear into the woods off to the west, where there were only a few men. The next lita he was gone.

Ron rejoined the ranks of his men, and they nearly crushed him to the ground with cheerful congratulations...his name now solidified into mythical grandeur of a magnitude that would live a thousand generations. But he had no time for such things, and he quickly returned his attention to the coming threat...the approaching Kreete.

Roe took the opportunity to sidle up beside Ron for a quiet conversation.

"Your 'friend' from the other day?" Roe asked with a smirk.

Ron simply shrugged his shoulders and winked at the man.

"I get the feeling that I know almost nothing about you, 'Ronin'", he added with a shake of his head and a thorough scratching of his thick beard. "What else do you have tucked away in that magic repertoire of yours?"

Ron smiled at him broadly. "A good magician never reveals his secrets!"

A nearby medical aide rushed in and tended Ron as twilight dropped across the land and the great warrior studied the threatening army. The medic was able to close up the four worst wounds before he was sent away to a safer area by his patient.

The actions of the enemy were straightforward and predictable, which struck Ron and Roe as being very odd. The first logic of war was to not repeat a failed strategy, yet that was exactly what they were about to do. In fact, they even delayed their charge, as if waiting for the Caronians to get ready for them. They formed a skirmish line with their shields up, and advanced slowly, with no cover fire from the high wall.

The trebuchets rained their deadly cargo upon them and Rasche's archers began pouring arrows into them...and they began to fall, just as before. The men stood ready for an attack too, just as before, and their hearts were filled with hope at the apparent futility of the Kreete...but then something Rasche said at that moment changed everything.

"Mariana, the goddess of war, smiles down upon us, my friends, and sends us fools to fight! They attack a superior force in near darkness... a tremendous disadvantage to them. What a gift! She really is too good to be true!"

That simple phrase sent a fresh chill racing through Ron...one that shook him almost as deeply as the tracker had, and he wheeled around quickly, his back against a broad tree trunk. The dream he'd had with his wife's warning was as clear as the darkening sky above.

"Don't be deceived by them, Ron," she'd said. "They cannot be trusted! Danger runs beneath! You will understand soon, and you must act quickly, my darling, or all will be lost. Remember this...'She really is too good to be true!'"

Ron stood as still as a statue while he tried to unravel that riddle. The men on either side were smiling at the apparent ease of the conflict, its outcome seemingly a foregone conclusion.

"Danger runs beneath!" she had said.

Ron thought about that for only a half lita before he recalled the Kreete's history. On their home world they'd survived the decimation of their planet's surface by moving underground! In Mardesh, they moved secretly about the city in subterranean avenues. Even Karne had constructed a safety plan that relied on tunnels to allow him and his family to escape danger. He looked at the great wall of Huinrag, and then at the ground beneath his feet. Even on Earth, the mightiest castles almost always had such passageways.

"You men!" Ron shouted gruffly, turning intensely animated again. "Send word down the line! Every second man must turn and move to guard our flank! We are surrounded!"

"What?" the man said with bewilderment across his face.

Roelantish saw Ron's expression and knew that dire look, and when Ron set off at a dead run, away from the pressing battle, he shored up that command.

"Do it now!" Roe ordered as he moved quickly in Ron's wake.

Roe was on his heels promptly, with a wave of men copying them, and they made it only a hundred peors before...

"Oh my God!" Ron breathed in despair.

A line of Kreete soldiers was advancing swiftly through the forest, each wearing a pair of the night-vision goggles like Karne had used, and he knew his sentries had undoubtedly been destroyed.

Ron looked left...then right. He estimated five thousand heavily armored Kreete troops stood there. The Caronian's intelligence reports of the forces inside Huinrag had indeed been poor...well hidden by their enemy who had obviously prepared very thoroughly for this conflict.

The rebel army was indeed surrounded, and had no way of turning their heavy equipment, the trebuchets, to guard against these new attackers. Even the spiked shields and lances were at the other battle. It would be sword-to-sword and bow-to-bow...and this time it was the humans who were outmaneuvered badly.

Ron saw no alternative. They would fight as hard as they could, but he knew it was hopeless...they would all die.

That definitive assessment didn't hesitate his advance though. They would do what could be done to slow the advancing militia as quickly as possible, to give his men room to retreat, plus time for the other battle to run its course.

Ron took up a guarded position at the foot of a large tree, and his Raulden bow began its deadly reign of terror on the approaching Kreete. There were so many targets he could easily pick out the kill shots...and he didn't miss. His men who were comparably armed as Ron copied his strategy, and together, they culled out quite a number, but their supplies were limited and soon exhausted...and then it began. The multi-layered waves of Kreete soldiers pressed forward like a tide...unstoppable and unrelenting.

Ron pulled his blades free as the dark, shadowy world around him dimmed into a blood red haze once more. Then the sound of the Piercellione of the Rokore clan of the Aredanz Mountains reverberated through the air...and if it were for the final time...so be it!

As that unnerving cry reached its peak, a remarkable, horrible, unimaginable sound joined with his. The air suddenly filled with similar utterances from above and throughout the woods. It came from everywhere, and rose in a spreading wave that immediately brought the Kreete to a grinding halt. They paused and searched the high limbs of the surrounding forest immediately, surprised and confused...and then arrows seemed to sprout...no...erupt from the upper reaches of the jungle. At that instant, five hundred Kreete scouts fell to the ground. Those around them jumped aside so astonished that they looked upward again; exposing the weakest point of the armor they wore...and paid for that mistake with their lives.

Even Ron was stunned by that new development, and marveled at the marksmanship exhibited in front of him. The Kreete hastily broke from their defensive stupor and returned fire, but their position was weak. They were in the relative open spaces of the ground, and their attackers were high in the trees, so they could make little real threat at the aerial enemy. The Kreete leaders tried to order their troops forward at the less lethal army, hoping such engagement would halt the bowmen above, they not wanting to chance hitting their own allies.

Ron saw that order rippling down the line and gripped his blades, but then another surprise occurred. A bundle of twenty arrows struck the ground at his feet, and at the feet of each of his remaining archers.

Their weapons were back at the ready instantly, and the battle raged on. The Kreete finally closed in on them a short time later, but their five thousand was down to two, and Ron's three was down to one...not counting his unseen allies above.

Ron buried one last arrow in a charging scout before the bow was cast aside for his more close-ranged weapons. He ducked a hacking ax that grazed his shoulder and dug deeply into the tree at his side. The forearm that once held that deadly blade clung to it hard...but that was all, as it no longer received instructions or support from the rest of its body. Another scout swung in at him with his sword, but Ron was on the move toward the next Kreete, separating that one's leg at the knee and raking him hard at the pivot of his waist in a spinning motion that slapped two incoming swords aside as well.

His throat rumbled the hideous, bestial utterances he'd sounded in the ring of the Retribution Games and as the battle became more and more vicious and bloody, the beast man known as Shartae returned to his full splendor, in the guise of a mere man.

The Kreete soldiers tended to gravitate around him as more and more of them fell at the tip of the dark blade, each wishing to be the one to put a stop to his mounting victories. They didn't all know who it was they faced, but when they did encounter him, it took only brief litas to realize exactly "what" he was...a purely demonic engine of death.

As four scouts tried to engage that flashing, dancing, jumping fiend of a man, he seemed to be everywhere at once. Ron was in a zone of nearly hypnotic amplitude, a realm of focus which was so precise he could anticipate each move, hear each swiping ax or sword, and tracked any bowman within twenty peors. He dropped to the ground four separate times during the melee` when a sure kill shot was on the way...causing the wooden missiles to instead, disappear into one of their own troops. And his blades weren't the only devices he used with miraculous results. His feet, forearms, elbows, and even his head struck any open joint or rammed any opponent that got too close. Once, a scout grappled with him from behind, trying to slow that creature of destruction down, but his blades reversed themselves instantly and skewered the fool while blocking incoming weapons with his blurred boots.

Those who saw him fight (and survived) would later recall him as untouchable, a speeding dealer of doom and mayhem that knew no bounds and gave no quarter. Ron however, would have a different recollection as the dozens of near misses left their evidence of passage clearly on his body. He was decorated once more from head to foot with countless wounds in the form of shallow cuts, a few deep gashes, and two arrows that struck a couple of non-lethal spots, they being off-handedly snapped off to regain his mobility.

In any event, while the ground received a good amount of his blood, Ron doled out much better punishment than his opponents. The rest of his defensive force was horribly decimated under the press of the Kreete, but with the length of the battle still growing, Ron saw a new change...one that made him smile.

Just as two scouts rushed at him, a body dropped head first straight down and pinned one of the attackers to the turf with a spear. Just as abruptly, he disentangled himself from his support rope which spared him from the fall, and alighted nimbly with a long broad sword at the ready.

The fellow made no attempt to speak to Ron, nor anyone else...he simply leapt into battle with a horrendous, animalistic, piercing scream...and he knew well how to use that weapon!

As more Kreete soldiers died and more were replenished from their seemingly endless numbers, Ron soon found himself back to back with this new man, and they shielded one another from the unending assault.

Ron greatly welcomed the fellow's aid as he was beginning to tire, and wondered just how long he could hold up to the challenge.

The pair finally ended up surrounded by a pack of some seven Kreete warriors who were covered in the bright red fluid of men. They all heaved and huffed from the long battle and sweat ran to the ground in buckets. The group stayed well clear of the men's reach and so they all took on water...a short cease-fire, you might say, between foes who respected one another's abilities.

"Who are you?" Ron finally asked of his partner.

"I am Norchane Croache...first sword of the Gracore Clan of the Aredanz Mountains. Everyone calls me Chane!"

That statement shocked Ron enough to have him turn to look at the man directly in the eyes.

"You're from the Aredanz? How's that possible? How could you have crossed the high mountains?"

"We have a passage through!"

"Why have you left the Aredanz? You don't do so on a whim...correct?"

"We have come to fight the Great War! We have come to stand with 'Ronin'...the Danecore...the fiercest champion the mountain peoples have ever known. We have come two thousand hoz to help you, Kaskle Dangarth...my kinsman.

"I volunteered to lead our warriors the moment I heard of your plan. You see, your wife, Sercie, was my first cousin. I came to honor her memory...to avenge her death...to stop 'Them'!" he said pointing to the Kreete horde.

"How could you possibly have even guessed at where I would be?"

"Your cousin, Terista! She was our guide to the others, on the western side of the Greishere Highlands. There, we met with a leader of a grand army, and his woman, Lilea. She told us where to look for you."

"When was that?"

"Six days ago, at a city they'd just crushed called Mardesh."

"Mardesh? That's two weeks travel on horseback!"

Chane merely shrugged. "We took a more direct route. We crossed the highlands night before last...to avoid the heat of the daytime sun."

"You crossed it in one night? How's 'that' possible?"

"We ran!" was all Chane replied.

Ron's head was spinning. He was both elated and worried at once. But there was no more time to talk, as the Kreete prepared to advance again...it was time to fight!

The Kreete were well coordinated as they moved in, and more than likely would have overwhelmed Ron and Norchane had it not been for the timely assistance of four more of his clansmen, and Roelantish. The mountain fighters fell from the trees like angels...angels from hell...and four Kreete were impaled completely through their bodies. Another was decapitated by Roe in a diving, slashing strike that caught him unaware, which left only two against the sword wielding wild men of the Aredanz. The clash was violent but brief...and then the group all stood and exchanged visual greetings.

With little time to enjoy the pleasantries of a normal welcome, Ron led his new team down the line to support the remainder of his men. They retrieved as many arrows as they could salvage, putting them to expert use as they went.

With Ron, Chane, and Roe leading the way with their dripping swords, they cut down any Scout who didn't fall by those deadly little slivers of wood and steel.

The Kreete had caused extensive damage to the human army... killing or badly wounding two thirds of them, but with the phenomenal and well-timed help of the mountain men, the humans outlasted them and eventually won the night.

As two of the Caronian moons brightened the sky with their radiant reflections, the trebuchets the Kreete hadn't been able to destroy commenced their devastating bombardment of the fortress once again.

Inside that gigantic military post, it was Meerstal's turn to feel his stomach twist and knot and churn. Seven thousand Kreete soldiers lost in one day...plus, the incredibly valuable tracker...the only one on the planet. It had been delivered only a santari in the past, for Treage to use in his hunt for the escaped prisoner...the leader of this very army.

Meerstal knew he would die for such failure, but that wouldn't be as bad as the disgrace his family would endure for generations to come. He should have taken his chances with the wild man, Shartae, when he had the option. He retreated because he'd seen that fellow fight in the Games and didn't want to perish under his blade in front of his men. Now, as he looked around him, the entire city was guarded by only four hundred soldiers. They were barely enough to man the guard towers...to make it appear as if they were in control of the city.

He knew the walls could hold only so much more battering before they collapsed and the Caronians took the city. He had only one last chance. He would have to admit defeat to a lesser foe, and call for help!

There could be no greater failure for a leader such as him...but the city had to be protected. If it was taken, too many Kreete secrets, not to mention armaments, would fall into the hands of the enemy. He began the slow walk to the communications tower. There was a "last ditch" emergency signal that could be deployed from a tall spire, in the event of some catastrophe. None had ever been utilized to his knowledge...at least not on a primitive world such as Caron.

In the entire city, only he had the authority to activate the pulse beacon, which had a secure link to a satellite network. It was the only way to contact his superiors in Pigonta, now that the primary dish was compromised. He'd hoped his troops could have destroyed the attacking army, and if so, he might have explained away the rest of the conflict under the guise of success, but that optimism was completely gone now.

He stared down the street at his destination...his eyes glazed and worried. He would have to work his way through the rubble of the trebuchets' spent ammunition that littered the streets, to reach the highest building in the center of the city. Luckily for him, it appeared to be clear of the range of the enemy's weapons, it being still whole, but as he crossed one of the bridges spanning the river that cut through the western third of Huinrag, a new and terrifying sight caught his attention.

Something was looming up from the dark waters to the north...and approaching fast!

### Chapter Thirty-three

### Fire and Rain

Meerstal couldn't believe his eyes!

Through the large, heavy metal grated barricade they'd dropped down across the expanse of the river to bar any passage of man or craft, he viewed a hulking outline. It was too dark to see clearly, but he knew it was a barge...a very heavily loaded barge!

It was coming fast too, and as it drew near...

"Alert!" he called to the watchmen who were sparsely positioned on that side of the city. "Alert! We are under attack at the river gate!" he bellowed.

The guards who normally patrolled that point had been moved to the main gate since they felt no one could possibly penetrate that inch-thick, welded-strapping mesh of steel. But as the ominous, dark craft approached, he wondered.

The barge was actually three barges lashed together, one behind the other, and loaded to nearly sinking with the wood that had been removed to make way for the trebuchets. Those logs had been hauled around the city and upriver by rouker, to be loaded in secret at a sharp bend in the river, four hoz away. The logs were piled ten feet high and the edges of the watercraft were manned by as many men as would fit, each paddling as hard as they could.

When the enormous battering ram was one hundred feet from its target, they all dove off to make their way to the shoreline...all save one. Jorin Graive stood his ground with a torch, and when the men were gone and the way was open, he went racing down the side, leaping from ship to ship and igniting the load as he ran. The timber had been well soaked with lamp oil and fairly burst into flame, illuminating a group of Kreete rushing over to fire their crossbows, yet totally unable to stop the attack.

The barges slammed into the giant gate with enough force to obliterate almost any obstacle, but the Kreete had done a fine job. The stone and mortar supports popped and cracked and groaned and crumbled...but they held! The gate itself was pushed inward twenty feet, tearing several of the welds and ruining the once flawless barrier...but it stood fast as well.

The Kreete above the arching support structure were thrown to their knees by the impact, but came up firing again. Due to the fantastic blaze beneath them, they had an excellent view of the men still scrambling up the bank of the river. Several of them were wounded, and some never exited the water, but that was all right with them. They'd done their part in this battle by delivering their payload. Ronin would be proud!

Meerstal was running by then, and pushed through the rushing throng violently until he reached his previous goal...the tower. But, as he made to enter, a very fortunate toss from one of the siege engines sent a huge rock smashing into the structure right at his fingertips. That blast forced him back and he dove for cover from the raining debris resulting from the obliteration of the portal.

When the dust finally settled, he regained his feet and instantly began digging through the rubble, now frantic that he might not make it to his goal. He stopped two scouts passing by to assist him in his desperate venture.

"Hurry, men!" he screamed. "Hurry!"

Outside, the humans had recovered from the surprise assault and returned to the siege, even stepping up the pace, pounding away at the fortress city with increasing fervor. They cheered raucously when the barge slammed into the gate and could almost taste the victory that lay within their grasps!

The blaze on the floating platforms grew and intensified for the next billot, finally generating enough heat so the Kreete couldn't get within a hundred peors of the fire, and the metal webbing of the gate glowed white hot! Another ten borts saw the weight of the ships, with the tremendous force of the river pushing at them incessantly, finally begin to move. The three barges combined to generate unsustainable stress on that gate...enough so that it at last succumbed to the strain and collapsed.

As it tore free, the immense and ornate archway that held it upright also could take no more of the inferno, and its composition of block and cement exploded and shattered as it too failed. The entire structure then buckled into the fire, turning loose its hold on the barges.

Those floating battering rams once more began to drift down river, gaining speed and momentum until they hit the next impediment, which rested in the center of the great walled city. At a slight bend of the waterway, they slammed into the huge wooden dock that had been constructed to accommodate a large number of river-traffic vessels at once, those that supplied the city with its typical goods. The triple load of burning logs took only moments to engulf the entire structure and wreak havoc with the surrounding area...causing a horrific fire that tore through the city quickly.

The normal firefighting systems in place were extremely manpower intensive, and with the lack of such resources, the fire overwhelmed every attempt to control it. The blaze fairly burst out from the docks into a firestorm that panicked the remaining inhabitants, Kreete and human alike, with them rushing here and there trying to either help with the problem, or run from it.

Another two billots saw the end of the great wall, at least at the point of the main southern gate. When it toppled to the grass, elation of that unprecedented event rippled down the lines of men in a mad rush, lending aid to their exhausted, and more often wounded, bodies.

There was a short pause of the bombardment while the remaining Caronian army prepared for attack. The trebuchet operators then hurriedly changed to the smaller rock ammunition that could provide scattering cover fire to clear the nearby walls of any Kreete defenders. It was extremely well timed as the army surged forward in a fever pitched attack...pouring over the pile of rubble in waves, while above, round after round of rock shot brutalized the enemy guardsmen.

The Kreete defensive force that remained quickly pulled back from the firestorm and the incessant rain of stones, forming a new perimeter further into the heart of the city...giving up the mighty wall to the men.

The sounds of the attacking force, the roaring fire, the screaming of the remaining civilians, both Kreete and human, and the clash of swords, created a deafening barrage of noise inside the great walled city. That clamor incited fear and desperation in the soldiers of Huinrag, but their training held true enough to give them one last chance. As dawn approached, the final two hundred and fifty Kreete scouts guarded a well-protected area of the city, like the Keep of Old-Earth's castles.

When the white star was just breaking the horizon, the still-mobile leaders of the attacking Caronian army gathered about to assess the situation. It was obvious to Ron and Roe that they could lose a great deal of men trying to overthrow those troops, but to leave them time to regroup was also laced with danger.

"I have an idea!" Ron said to Rasche. "Roe! You're with me!"

They immediately set off into the brightening forest.

Rasche kept up the pressure by surrounding the centralized group of Kreete and taunting them nonstop. As dawn's glow intensified over the eastern horizon, it brought with it a better perspective of exactly what was happening in the once grand city. The skirmish line was clear, as was the intent of the enemy. They meant to hold out until reinforcements arrived.

Rasche's men kept up as much harassment of the Kreete as they could, with raining flights of arrows and by flinging burning pots of oil into their position by means of crudely manufactured catapults. Then, just as the sun began peeking in over the high wall, a new development further depleted the Kreete's numbers...and their hold on the municipality.

There suddenly erupted a tremendous uproar from inside the defensive circle of the enemy. The scouts made a valiant effort to maintain their focus and military order, but this new threat quickly took precedence, and so they wheeled about to fight...exactly what Rasche had hoped for. His men then closed the gap on the entrenched Kreete and picked them off in short order. Soon, Ron, Roe and a few hundred men emerged to show precisely what had happened.

Ron and Roe had searched out the same tunnel the Kreete had used to attack them and breached it, following it back to the city where it eventually delivered them to the very center of the point the army was defending. They quickly ravaged the Kreete's innermost ranks and caused panic and confusion.

With the battle won, Ron strode toward Rasche majestically, his body covered in the Kreete's brownish colored blood and gore, as well as sweat and grime. He swigged a drink from a hastily delivered water bladder, gulping the thing half dry in a dozen steps. His face still bore the stern features of a man in the midst of battle and his head swept the scene ceaselessly, expecting yet another unforeseen attack.

His every nerve remained in hyper-sensitive mode, so when a huge explosion erupted above them, and a series of blinding white flashes flooded the city with light, Ron dove into the shelter of a nearby structure without even thinking. The water flask fell to the stone walkway, instantly forgotten, and his blades once more leaped naked in the morning air. The commotion died away quickly but those illuminating discs of light did not, remaining stationary like the flare had, back at the Gitove farm. This time however, the marker was pulsing in a systematic, repetitive order.

Ron's auto-shades surged in heavily and allowed him to watch those pulses closely...and it didn't take him long to surmise just what that was.

"Rasche! Get your men together as quickly as you can!"

"What is it, Ronin?"

"A beacon...a call for aid! We have maybe one billot before the Kreete fill the sky with their ships!"

"What will we do? If they use their ships, we're finished!"

Ron nodded at his conclusion and swirled possible scenarios around in his head. "If that is the case, we have no chance, so we should prepare for the only foe we can manage...fresh Kreete troops. We'll have to assume that they'll be using the aircraft for transport only."

"Very well," Rasche acknowledged, turning to his assistant. "Send word to the weapons' teams. Load the heavy rocks again! We will attempt to disable the aircraft when it lands!"

Ron turned then and started up that tower, feeling certain who he would find there.

He took the winding stairs four at a time with a loaded crossbow in each hand. Up he went unheeded, until he was only twenty peors from the uppermost level, when two bolts from Kreete long bows grazed his head and shoulder before ricocheting down the tubular stairwell for a good hundred feet. Ron had known he was close to his enemies...he could smell them...so he was prepared for the attack, pressing his body hard against the center support column to spoil their attack angle. He gave them no time to adjust either, dropping low and leaping to the other side of the stairs while firing his own weapons. The two sentries fell back against the heavy door they guarded, but returned fire. Ron dropped and rolled again, feeling one of those missiles bite into his left hip, but it didn't stop, leaving only a nasty gash. Ron pounced like a yetsole cat, two blue daggers leading the charge, and followed them up with the black sword.

The wounded scouts fell straightaway, leaving Ron panting heavily at that massive wooden barrier. It reminded him of the door back in Mardesh; at the place where the Kreete tried to spring their trap on him, but this time there was no heavy stone bench, or room to wield it.

"Meerstal Chardaal," Ron bellowed through the door. "I have come to meet your challenge, you slag coward! Open up and we shall settle this dispute, once and for all!"

Instead of a response, Ron heard hurried footsteps approaching, and then what sounded like creaking, like a heavy wench recoiling.

"Oh, shit!" Ron hissed as he dropped to the stone floor of the anteroom.

There were seven evenly spaced holes across that door at chest level, but they didn't appear to go completely through. Ron had investigated them and couldn't see into the other space, so at first he thought they might be decorative. His error was apparent when he heard those sounds, and then he found out exactly what they were for.

Seven arrows blasted out of those holes and exploded against the granite blocks behind him, showering the small landing with wood and stone chips. Ron growled at that, knowing there was no way to get Meerstal out of there without some form of explosive...and then he smiled, and raced back down the tower.

Ron burst back into the dazzling sunshine and dashed straight to where Rasche was coordinating the evacuation.

"Are you still in contact with the trebuchets?" Ron asked, winded and excited.

"Yes, of course, but there's no..."

"Call them and order a strike on that tower," he told the commander.

The Caronians were still utilizing the radios they'd scavenged from the Kreete leaders that had perished, and now Ron was very grateful for that fact.

The job of loading and firing the giant catapults was hard work, and the teams on duty were exhausted from their turn of such grueling, unrelenting toil. Nonetheless, when they heard it was Ronin who needed the strike, they all leaped into action like a group of fresh recruits. Ron set off a smudge pot on the fourth level of the tower, to give them a target, and then he got clear.

The first boulder came up short by twenty peors, and the second was off to the left by ten, but they had the range by then. The next time the three working hurlers fired, they all made hits, crushing the walls of the structure and caving in the side facing those catapult weapons. A few moments later, the tall tower began to lean, like a giant tree that had been chopped too deeply. Slowly...slowly...then faster...until...

"That's for the young ones, you pile of shit!" Ron grumbled at the invisible enemy.

When the dust cloud drifted away, Ron glanced to the heavens, hoping the beacon had been destroyed as well, but this time his remarkable luck didn't help.

The men regrouped hastily, forced to dispense with all celebrations of their fantastic victory to swarm the high walls and make ready for the coming enemy.

At just over a billot, the first aircraft soared overhead, blasting by at a tremendous rate before turning in the hot morning sky to loop around in an ever-shrinking orbit of the city.

Ron guessed they were making a determination as to what their next move should be. Not long after that, three more shuttles streaked into view and they all buzzed about above Huinrag like enormous hornets, searching out their prey. He suspected at least two hundred scouts now made ready to retake the city...and that gave him a glimmer of hope. The Caronians could handle them.

It turned out to be a temporary feeling though, which lasted only another ten borts, when a real transport lumbered into the scene. Ron's heart immediately sank. That craft could deliver half a legion of Kreete warriors and their supplies.

This new development looked grave to the men and the leaders of the Caronian revolutionary army. They'd sustained enormous losses from the Kreete's covert night attack and now those who'd survived the frightful dark, as well as the final clash, watched with dour thoughts. They were exhausted and battle worn, and didn't have the energy or motivation to rally even one more time.

Ron stood at the fringe of the woods...this time alone...his future, as well as that of everyone he knew, looking very dire indeed.

"We should retreat!" his mind was saying. "We should get as many men to safety as possible!" But then the true understanding of the situation pushed that aside. "They will burn every town within a hundred hoz, and kill every human, for the shame that has befallen them here. No! We must make our stand now!"

The trebuchets were ready once again, and the Piercellione hovered in the treetops. This was the time. This was the place.

The colossal transport ship slowly lowered to the ground and settled in the wide, open spot between Ron and the great wall. It looked more like a blimp than anything else he'd seen on earth, having a large, bulbous fuselage and short, slim wings with only a vertical fin at the aft end. It was clearly not intended to maneuver nimbly, but instead held within its bloated body, fourteen hundred heavily armed Kreete warriors.

Ron glanced at the high walls of Huinrag and saw men lining the summit. Then he scanned the trees. He estimated that the human army that once had stood over ten thousand was down to maybe eight hundred. Once more he locked his jaw against the apparent inevitability of his position.

They could no longer escape, not with half a dozen scout ships tracking every man he had, and they could not hope to win the battle against what would soon be emerging from that giant vessel. All that was left was to get it started, and get it over with.

"Well, let's see," he said calmly before motioning for the nearest trebuchet to fire.

The transport had lowered its shields to dispense its cargo, and the three-foot diameter boulder slammed into it with enough force to crush its outer hull along its forward, dorsal ridgeline. The men all cheered with jubilation at the sight.

The next hurtling rock though, was blasted out of the sky by one of the shuttles, taking up a defensive position over the battlefield. It didn't fire on the men or their machines...the Kreete code strictly forbidding such an attack...but it plucked the men's projectiles out of the air handily.

Next, Ron ordered the spear cannons to fire, and a wave of two-dozen iron arrows shot out and sped at the ship. The shuttles made no attempt to stop them, and for a short bit, Ron had high hopes of success...but then the spears reached their objective and his hopes careened with those missiles. The transport ship was heavily armored at the sides to protect its valuable cargo.

"Son of a...!" Ron growled, motioning for his men to hold their fire. They could not afford to waste them.

The huge vessel then began to open. Seven different doors slid out of the way from all sides of the ship...and the army of the Kreete began to disembark. They each carried oversized shields and followed long, moving wagon-blockades that were pulled by armored beasts. Each wagon held multiple mounted crossbows that could fire their own version of the large arrows. Their bolts were wooden shafted instead of metal, but could still penetrate a foot thick tree with enough force to skewer the man on the other side of it. Ron knew this because a fellow thirty peors from him expired in that exact manner.

Engaging the Kreete in sword-to-sword conflict was pure suicide, but it was looking like that was the only choice they had. The Kreete filed out for over a billot, lining up in a long row, fourteen scouts deep. The men on the high wall fired arrows down at them, but they were too few to make much of an impact and the accuracy of the returning fire cut them down swiftly.

The feeling of death's inevitability was obvious to the human army...and even Ron could sense the foreboding weight of the moment. He watched the finalization of the enemy army's assembly and was duly impressed. It was extremely evident that "this" was the real Kreete army....the ones who mastered worlds. They were calm and confident, yet none fidgeted or spoke...their discipline was perfect. They were all business. These were the death merchants!

The tricks the men had used in the previous encounters would be ineffectual against this group. Their commanders stood at each end of the forward line and a Master Killer ranked scout was centered in each wave of forty-nine fighting souls.

The transport powered up its engines again, and everyone within half a hoz felt the rumble through the ground as it lifted off. The soldiers didn't turn to see the movement of that behemoth. Instead, they began their march toward the forest, disregarding the city...apparently having scanned it, finding almost no one manning the fortress.

The enormous vessel rose vertically to a height of a hundred feet and slowly began to drift to the west...but then...

'Fffffaaaaaaarrrrrrroooooommmmm!'

That massive craft suddenly erupted violently in the aft section. The force of the explosion bulged the fuselage like a balloon and that bulge raced forward until the front third of the ship ripped free, toppling forward and down to smash into the grassy meadow. The rest of the ship scattered pieces for three-quarters of a hoz before it slammed into the ground as more explosions quickly followed.

The impeccable, intractable army that represented the finest fighting force the Kreete had to offer was pummeled to the ground by the concussions. The scouts closest to the blasts were crushed, or shredded, or thrown, or set ablaze from that occurrence.

The men at the edge of the forest were quick thinking enough to slip behind any nearby tree and were swiftly showered with falling limbs, leaves, and shrapnel from the explosions.

When it seemed over they peered once more across the wide battleground and found a totally different sight in front of them. A full third of the Kreete army was dead, many more would never rise, and the other half stood shakily with their attention drawn to the skies...for the battle already raged, just not on land.

Two Kreete ships; different than the usual 'shuttle' style...more sleek and lethal-looking...had suddenly entered the area. They were atmospheric fighters, Interceptors was their designation, and they packed quite a punch. In expert precision, they'd attacked the Kreete contingent force. One had strafed the transport craft with enough firepower to split it in two, and the other engaged the three support ships, destroying the shields of one, and the engines of the other. As they both pulled up into vertical climbs, they crossed each other's paths in an elegant maneuver that showed their precision, and then streaked back down at the other shuttles. The bright green plasma pulses that they fired preceded them with beautiful, yet deadly results.

Ron didn't hesitate an instant.

"Fire!" he bellowed with all the force he could generate...and the cart-mounted spear launchers went to work, as did the trebuchets.

The skies were instantly filled with more lethal rain, pouring into the shocked Kreete soldiers in torrents.

The Kreete troops didn't panic, but instead they quickly understood their predicament and regrouped. Ron was impressed by that as well.

They no longer had most of their superior weapons, support from the air, or nearly half of their fellows...and they were wounded, out in the open, and surrounded. They knew at any moment, the aircraft that had decimated them and their transport vehicle could simply obliterate them from above, so that guided the decisions of their leaders. The entire group surged forward as one...straight at the human army. Their only clear course of action was to engage the enemy on the ground.

The humans were frantic by then, disregarding the winches that normally loaded the giant bows and instead pulling them with manpower, increasing their firing capabilities to three arrows per bort each. By the time the advancing troops reached them, the arrow supply was depleted and the attacking force was ravaged, yet the Kreete still outnumbered them two to one.

The men fell back to their second line of defense, pulling into position their first. A series of chains suddenly sprang up between the trees, creating a simple barrier that would stall the Kreete long enough for the men to use hand-held spears and lances again...their last attempt at staying away from the axes and swords of their enemies.

As it was though, the Kreete archers gave their troops fine cover fire to allow them time to negotiate that obstacle. The only thing that effectively slowed their attack was the Piercellione's support from the trees.

The mountain folk had retrieved as many of their arrows and spears as was salvageable during the lull in the fighting, and now recycled those devices as well as they could. Still, this last group of Kreete was extremely difficult to stop...and they wielded death with every forward step.

Ron wanted to call a retreat to his men, seeing the potential chance that they might elude those above and regroup at a later date, but he knew that such a decision would leave the Aredanz people trapped and vulnerable to the enemy. Their stealth and agility would not help them if the Kreete set fire to the woods, which was already underway at the sites of the trebuchets. Those weapons would aid the men no more.

Ron fell back after dispatching his most recent foe, and tried to catch his breath. He felt bone tired, parched, and half starved. The last two days had really drained him, and no reprieve was in sight.

In the moments that he stopped though, he refocused his goals and no longer allowed fear of failure to crowd his thoughts. He was certain this was not the end...that he hadn't come this far to see it all fall short. That was when a new angle changed the momentum of the battle.

The air changed from a soft push of north wind into the forest to a sharp gust...from the opposite direction. The Kreete soldiers stopped their advance suddenly and began rushing back to the meadow with great haste. A lita later the sun shining through the trees vanished for a few litas and then returned. This occurred three separate times.

Ron and all his surviving men eased forward to see what was happening...why they'd been spared for a few more moments.

The answer was as clear as the blue of the sky, which now held three huge ships. The smaller fighters that had aided the rebels were gone and these three hulking light cruisers hovered high above. They made the huge transport craft look puny by comparison, and the air suddenly stood still while the hair on Ron's arm jumped to attention. That was followed by a strong tingling sensation that preceded a belch of blue energy discharging from each ship. Two hundred peors behind them, there came a loud "crack", followed immediately by a roll of thunder. Half a hoz deep, and a full hoz wide of forest was totally gone! The plasma energy had completely obliterated every cell of plant matter in litas. Ron smelled the destruction on the next waft of breeze...and his teeth clenched.

"This is Treage Vitrauge!" echoed a clear, artificially enhanced voice from the grassland, much the way such announcements were made back on Rauld...as if by magic. "I order you men to step out and surrender yourselves into slavery...or die!"

Many of the remaining men had gravitated near to Ron for reassurance...if it might only be that they died within sight of the Great One, and now they looked to him.

Ron Allison stood like a stone statue, his powerful fingers clamped to his sword. He couldn't believe it would come down to this. All their planning, their sacrifice, and the deaths of so many would be wasted...just to end up slaves.

"Come down here and fight like men!" Ron replied as loud as he could.

As a reply, another section of forest was instantly removed from existence, this time close enough to feel the heat blast. The men all recoiled from it, yet stood their ground, unwilling to bend thus far.

"You lost your protection from our codes when your friends attacked my transport and shuttles. I can do with you as I please now!"

"You are a coward!" Ron screamed at the open air. "Just like your brother! He too sought out the safest method, attacking an unarmed man with superior weapons. He went for the easy kill...or at least, that's what he planned! It didn't end that way though, did it?"

"Save your breath, flarge!" Treage announced. "If you are the leader who I know you are, surrender yourself! Denounce this silly uprising and the rest may go free! Admit your true identity and you will live long enough to stand trial! Otherwise, every man, woman, and child inside the city and in the surrounding forest for seven days march will die!"

Ron paused a few moments to think, but he saw no other way...no alternative. He took a step forward, but his men tried to stop him.

"They will destroy us anyway!" Roe told him. "You know they will!"

Ron smiled at his burly friend who stood before him, wounded in dozens of places, including his left arm that was dripping blood heavily, and yet still trying to come to his aid.

"It has been a good fight!" Ron told Roelantish as he grasped him on the shoulders with a grin, and then he moved out into the open.

His stride was long and stately. He walked like the person every man in the area felt he was...their leader...their hero...their king.

### Chapter Thirty-four

### Battle Royale

The Kreete soldiers were back in their original formation, their numbers greatly lessened, but still a very formidable group. He could see in the tension of their bodies that they craved to finish it their way...at the end of their swords.

As he broke out into the sunlit meadow, Ron witnessed another of the great transport ships drifting by overhead. It could no longer land in this venue due to the expansive debris field, so the pilot continued on above them to the newly formed clearing in the decimated forestland, just to the south.

At that time, from the back of the Kreete army there began a surge of bodies parting to let a small group of individuals through their multitude. Ron stopped a hundred feet from the line of his mortal enemy to await them, and when they finally emerged, Ron was stunned.

He'd seen the obvious leader of these soldiers before! It was back in Mardesh, when a local champion had tried to fight for his freedom from the enslavement of these cruel beings. Ron, Jarle, and Lilea had spoken with that champion's mother in a restaurant. This enormous Kreete warrior, of the Reaper class, had killed that poor man in a most ghastly, brutal way...right in front of her.

Ron noted that the Reaper's attendants were each carrying manacles, and he recalled his imprisonment vividly. His mind began reverting to the beast that was Shartae, and he braced himself to fight...he would not be chained again!

"You have done well," the brutish warrior admitted to Ron, looking about the carnage on the field of battle and being duly impressed. "In fact, if it hadn't been for the upcoming competition of the Caronian Games drawing Gotliig's entire fleet into nearby orbit, you may have actually won the day! You may have even lived to continue this pointless war for a few more santaris. But with such vast resources of troops and equipment with which to work, we will call it at an end here and now. Of course, the end was always inevitable...but we Kreete enjoy a good shake-up every now and again."

"You are Treage Vitrauge?" Ron asked harshly, ignoring his sarcastic praise.

The gargantuan creature smiled at him as if they were old friends.

"Yes, Kaskle. I am...and I think you know that quite well."

"Well, Treage, if you want me, you will have to defeat me first!" Ron swept his deep voice across the field, lined with dead and living Kreete soldiers. "I challenge you in the manner of your code! One warrior to the other! Fight or surrender!"

"You have no claim to our code!" Treage returned sarcastically. "It is reserved for Kreete, not excrement. You men, chain him and..."

"Save your bullshit speech, coward!" Ron shot back. "Warriors of the Kreete Triad...I have formally challenged your 'Reaper Class' commander and he has denied me! I am the one some of you know as 'Shartae'...the terror of the Retribution Games! I say your leader is afraid to face me in battle! Is this the soldier that you all follow? Is he fit to lead this mighty army? Is a 'Reaper' afraid of a mere man?"

Treage noticeably vibrated with rage. Ron saw froth spew from his lips and mucous from his four-inch-wide nose as he snorted his fury. His aides paused for instructions, giving him just enough time to glare at them for not completing his order, but now he knew he couldn't issue that order again. If he did, he "would" look like a coward.

"Get back!" Treage ordered through his gnashed teeth, making it more of a coughing growl than a real command. He then pulled up to his full, over nine-foot tall height, dwarfing the human man standing thirty feet away. He unhooked his crossbow and tossed it to the fellow to his left, along with the quiver. Ron did a similar act with his own long-range weapon.

"If this is the way you want it...so be it!"

Treage hoisted his shield easily and moved toward Ron, his huge battle-ax bared and swinging hard, just to loosen up.

"Nice armor...great warrior!" Ron chided him. "I guess you feel the need for as much protection as you can get! I might've known!"

Ron stood there only in his Raulden attire, covered in blood, his clothes torn in too many places to count, and bandages all over...with no shield at all. Treage's advance halted as he recoiled again at the insult...his pride and honor were on the line.

"I need no such help!" Treage growled as he slammed his great weapon into the ground, its central spike pinning it to the turf. He began unlacing his armor immediately.

Inside, Ron smiled. He was still at an enormous disadvantage of reach and strength, but at least he did not have to contend with that additional challenge of the Kreete's protection.

After a few borts, Treage Vitrauge squared off with Ron Allison again, and a total of over five thousand individuals (counting those inside the ships overhead) stared unblinkingly at the pair.

The scene was being broadcast over the Kreete's communication system too, out to the entire world and beyond...and every soul within sight of a video-com paused from their duties to watch.

Ron felt that old rush again, the one he'd come to know well in the arena. The surge of chemicals in his body quickly pushed aside his exhaustion, hunger, and thirst, to sharpen his senses, his mind, and his iron will to survive. His heart sped up slightly, but pounded much harder as his muscles swelled with the call of battle. His perception was doubled in acuity, yet shrunk to almost a pinpoint in overall scope, as Treage Vitrauge was the only thing he now saw. And that single focus began to show a definite red hue. Ron recalled the incredible power and swiftness Treage had demonstrated in Mardesh and adjusted his defense to that memory.

The Reaper advanced on the man, 50% smaller than he, with his huge shield covering the entire left side of his torso, down to his knee. Ron hadn't bothered with such a device since it wouldn't stop a full blow from the giant's ax or sword, and it would have slowed him down. Instead, he slowly pulled his two swords from their sheaths, deliberately adding some extra pressure, thus allowing that familiar, metallic, chiming ring of steel on steel to resoundingly carry across the grassy land.

The men in the forest crept to the edge of the tree-line to get a clear view of what they all felt would be the battle of their lifetime. Even the men high up in the trees pulled their blades out and hacked away some of the concealing branches they'd used so effectively for visual protection.

Kreete scouts on duty in the city, routing out the remains of the rebels, left their posts and rushed to the high wall. The pulse of every soul jumped by half.

Ron calmly hefted his razor edged weapons, and gripped and regripped them for feel and balance. He then rolled his broad shoulders to stretch before he set those deadly blades into a swirling, whistling fury that further sped the hearts of his men.

Treage watched him carefully, knowing that no foe had yet survived those mincing swords, but he acted as unimpressed as he could. Slowly the Kreete drifted to his left, the shield staying between him and Ron always. He saw the swiftness of those meshing rapiers and recalculated his strategy...the ax he carried would not keep up with that. Instead of chancing it, with only ten feet separating them, he suddenly reached back and flung his great, two-sided battle-ax at Ron, horizontally.

That move accomplished its objective by catching Ron off guard (at first) due to the sheer senselessness of it. Ron easily danced out of the path of the bladed portion of the weapon, but the long, three-inch-thick handle whipped around and struck him hard across the ribs. The blow knocked some of the air from his lungs and forced a wince of pain...and at that instant Treage charged, his own sword now bared and whistling in the air.

Ron had to use both his blades to divert that onslaught and redirect the heavy, four-foot-long weapon from its path, and was knocked aside three steps from the force. He swiftly retreated from the Reaper, using that blow as an added accelerant to get some space, but Treage was no fool. Having done battle with thousands of foes in his long lifetime, he knew better than to grant any safety margin to Ron.

Instead, he struck out with the edge of his shield, slamming Ron's dodging frame hard and lifting him from his feet to sail a dozen feet back. Ron hit the soft, grassy ground on his left shoulder, his entire body still in the air, and rolled expertly to his feet without losing his sense of peril, or direction.

Treage's advance pulled up short as he was met by a set of blades smashing against his attack, clearing his sword enough to allow an outstretched flashing foot to crash into the side of his bald head. That strike did little to harm the huge warrior, other than to shake his confidence, but that was all Ron had intended anyway. Now they squared off anew for a brief moment, just enough time for Ron to issue a deep, rumbling snarl before he took the initiative.

He burst into motion with crossed swords that morphed into buzz saws and pounded the Reaper's blade and shield with enough rapidity to force the huge fellow back a few steps.

Treage's temper flared at the thought of this puny human sending him into a defensive mode, and at what kind of symbolism such a sight was for the watching Kreete. Could the most revered soldier on the field not destroy a sub-par species? His experience told him to wait...to stay calm and patient, but his ego was another matter entirely.

Ron forced Treage's guard down once again and opened up another opportunity for a leaping, spinning kick that landed hard on the Reaper's jaw, crushing his nose and tearing his lip enough to spray the ground with blood.

Treage stepped to the side, astonished at the power of his adversary...and then he snapped!

With a tremendous roar, the giant charged! His long, heavy shield swept across and caused Ron to leap back with his hands raised, just far enough away to feel the edge of that great steel barrier graze his stomach. But that long sword...five feet of double-edged danger...was flying in at him swiftly.

Ron was off balance badly but managed to bring his short sword into the path of Treage's blade with sufficient angle to spoil its path, but he was thrown to the ground solidly.

He rolled and leaped as high as he could, up and back, but when his feet were beneath him again, he paled. The blade of that weapon was gone, down to a stump of about an inch above that beautiful, hand-carved grip.

Treage grunted his approval as he rushed in again, his sword high and shield low. He felt his advantage soaring at that instant...but he had never dealt with Ron in person, and like so many who came before him, he found out that watching the Retribution Games was not the same as partaking.

The giant seasoned warrior saw the broken weapon in the hands of his opponent and smiled as he attacked, but the speed of Ron's next move erased that smile.

Before the ornate handle could strike the grass, a twelve inch blue missile was launched from that same hand. Treage jerked in reaction to the move, bringing his shield over as fast as he could...but not fast enough. It deflected the knife just a hair, but eight inches of it still penetrated his tough hide, just inward of his right shoulder. It wasn't a mortal wound, especially with the incredibly quick-working defense system inside his genetically enhanced body, but he felt a searing tug when he moved his sword arm.

He immediately fell back and tried to grip the hilt of that knife with his left hand, his shield hand, but couldn't without releasing that sorely needed protection. And since he wasn't in any position to set neither it, nor his sword down, he fell to defense once again.

So now it was Ron's turn to press the advantage...and he pressed hard.

The ebony rapier slammed across Treage's shield and heavier blade with the two handed power of the mighty Shartae. The Reaper was forced backward quickly, forgetting how it might look to his men as he scrambled to stay on his feet and away from that demon's weapon. Finally, in shear desperation, he triggered the release of his shield and kicked it at the attacking form of Ron, taking him by surprise and driving him back and to the ground again.

Ron landed hard under the weight of that heavy steel barrier and scrambled out from under it just quickly enough to witness Treage's left arm drop forward...a blue glistening object leaving his fingertips.

Ron twisted his broad shoulders hastily and the knife grazed his chest as it screamed past and imbedded in the ground. He'd nearly been impaled with his own blade.

Treage was almost on him when Ron snapped up harshly; popping to his feet once more...and the clash went on.

At that point it was sword to sword, the shadow-blade against Treage's two, with the Reaper's movement nearly fully restored as he simply ignored the injury.

Now the fight sped up, swords grinding, locking, and crashing against one another so harshly that the spectators flinched at the sight and sound of it, even from their distance.

Ron's body drizzled and sprayed sweat, as did Treage's, but neither relented even a lita, each hoping to outlast the other in that nightmarish mortal bout.

After another half billot however, an opportunity presented itself.

Treage was an excellent swordsman, and so was able to keep the black razor at bay, giving up only minor wounds to that speeding device, and at one instant he even forced Ron down to his knees with his brute strength. But the instincts that had saved Shartae countless times before did so again as he dropped even lower and drove the butt of the black sword into Treage's left kneecap with all his strength, shattering that bone.

Treage disengaged instantly and fell back, a cry of anguish escaping his ruined lips, and as he pulled back, Ron tossed another of his knives, striking Treage in the left bicep. That impact erased his grip on the short sword and it struck the grass a moment later.

Ron charged again, his advantage clearly back, and Treage stayed off balance for a long while, limping badly and unable to use his left arm to any extent. He struggled bitterly to match Ron's furious assault, receiving dozens of minor wounds that leaked his life fluid, but nothing he couldn't withstand...yet.

A short time further on though, Treage realized he would need to make a drastic move or he would fall before that demon-man, and so he instantly reversed his strategy from retreat to attack, allowing the black blade to penetrate his left side in order to get an advantageous angle on his smaller, quicker adversary.

Before Ron could react, Treage gripped his upper arm with his own injured limb and brought his broad sword down across Ron's back. As with the tracker, if it hadn't been for the scabbard strapped across his spine, Ron Allison would have been cleaved in two. As it was though, the heavy blade crushed him to the turf and jarred him so badly that he lay prone for just a lita, his vision blurred and his thoughts skittering about.

A quick shake of his raven head brought him back, but it was too late! He felt the bone crushing pressure of Treage's full weight on his right wrist as he tried to get his blade back into the fray. His eyes went to that point only fast enough to watch the indestructible weapon fly away as Treage kicked it clear with his other foot.

The entire Caronian army suddenly lurched forward, their breath frozen in their lungs!

Ron didn't miss a single beat though as he followed that kick with his own, sweeping up and contacting the leg that had him pinned, driving it upward hard.

Treage was catapulted into the air a good four feet, causing a matching gasp to escape the on looking Kreete warriors, all of whom had assumed from the first moment that Treage would thrash the puny man without trouble. After all, he was a Reaper!

Treage eventually fell unceremoniously beside Ron with a loud huff of escaping air, but he was not injured. His long sword struck out viciously at the smaller adversary, but Ron's quickness got him clear enough to see that blade sink into the ground between his feet, instead of in his body. And before that long saber could be pulled free, he was up and dashing to retrieve his own weapon. Treage grunted his anger at that slippery fellow before he launched his rebuttal to that tactic.

Ron tumbled to the ground once more, this time due to the fact that his own beautiful throwing blade now skewered his right thigh with excruciating perfection, lodging into his femur.

Blood poured from the wound as he ripped the blade free, but he could give it no further thought because Treage was coming again.

The Reaper laughed as he stowed his sword and stooped to pull his huge ax out of the grass. Ron scrambled to his feet, two of his longest knives in his hands. He limped heavily now and couldn't make it to his Raulden sword before Treage would get to him, so he chose to make his stand.

That gigantic, double-edged ax whistled across one way, then back again, much too quickly for Ron to see any kind of opening large enough to permit a charge, so he made a toss.

Treage was expecting that strategy though, and brought the wide ax up in time to block the throw. He hacked and slashed at Ron then, chasing him further from the dark sword and back to the original point of the clash. Ron's leg was totally covered in blood by then...his right side as well, from a nasty gash he received when Treage's sword struck his back earlier, and his chest heaved under the enormous strain of the conflict. It had been two full days with no sleep and little rest, and by that point it really showed.

The next pass of that foot-wide, double-edged weapon clipped Ron's chest and his last knife, opening up a new wound horizontally across his wide torso and emptying his hand.

Roelantish Sonebane dropped his gaze then. The match was as good as done...Ron Allison had finally faced an opponent he could not overcome. Roe badly wanted to help his friend in that moment, but knew he could not...at least not without causing even more catastrophic problems...possibly the total destruction of every Caronian native.

He took a deep, ragged breath and desperately clutched to his faith in that seemingly insurmountable fellow, but faltered, his hands quivering in despair. But then, just as swiftly as he'd lost all hope, his inner self suddenly surged anew and rebuked his feelings of sorrow and doubt. That sensation immediately bolstered his conviction and reaffirmed what every other man had come to believe without a doubt...Ronin Alsone could not be killed!

His gaze returned to the monumental fight without further delay.

Treage's eyes danced as he saw the crimson fluid run down Ron's chest. He reached back just a tiny bit extra and let the long handle of the blade slide out another inch. This would be the final blow that would drop the infernal, incessant pain in his side for good. One last swing was all he needed to restore his honor, his reputation, his rightful position in the Kreete regime.

Ron swayed and stumbled one last time...and then the kill strike came!

The huge battle-ax swept in, its cutting edge cleaving the air with a soft hissing sound. Ron was directly in its path...and then he wasn't!

With swiftness yet unseen, he lunged inward...inside the arc of that deadly weapon...and hit Treage with a knee in the gut and a full strength forearm to the throat.

A deafening roar leaped from the throats of Ron's men...every one of them screaming out their own pent up energy, as if willingly hurling it to their champion.

The ax went flying once more, only this time, not by choice. Treage staggered back with Ron pounding every open inch of his body. The Reaper sustained the neck blow well enough because of the enhanced muscle tissue of his artificially toughened body, but he was totally surprised by Ron's attack, and with his damaged knee, he couldn't regain his balance.

Ron no longer limped, no longer swayed and staggered, and no longer ran. Instead, he was up close and personal with his nemesis, wailing away like a champion prizefighter...hammering at the larger being with devastating power. Treage tried to counter, but Ron was too close in, so he couldn't land a solid punch. He grappled with the fiend he believed to be Kaskle Dangarth, but found his bare skin literally too slippery with sweat to hold onto, even with his long claws extended.

Treage felt his muscles begin to register pronounced numbness from the nonstop beating so he did the only thing he could...he struck down at the smaller man with both arms.

Ron was by then a mass of unbridled fury, but at that instant it felt like one of the Kreete's cruisers had fallen upon him. He hit his knees and Treage reached for his sword, but this time he sprang up instantly, his shoulder embedded in the Reaper's crotch. With a terrifying roar, Ron lifted that nine and a half foot tall giant's legs, driving him up and over, to crash to the ground on his head. Ron pounced on Treage's sword arm in a flash, knowing he couldn't wrestle the weapon free by sheer strength, so he used a new approach...his teeth.

The Kreete Reaper class soldier let out a howl of unconcealed pain as he felt Ron's sharp incisors sinking into his thumb and brought a full force roundhouse punch into play. That fist, the size of a soccer ball, slammed into Ron's right arm and catapulted him six feet away, clear of his Kreete foe.

Ron was certain his arm was broken, hearing it crack and feeling the sharp report of that blow. Yet he came up on his feet with the soldier's long sword in his hands...and the last segment of the Kreete's thumb in his mouth.

Ron spit out the vile-tasting prize and faced his foe. He could barely grip that heavy weapon with his injured hand, and it was far too long and heavy to wield with only one, so he flung it away as far as he could. Now the two titans faced one another again...neither armed with any weapons save their natural ones. They both seethed and their chests rose and fell greatly...two alphas in a contest the death...and neither willing to yield.

With a deep growl, Ron charged and Treage did the same. As they met, Ron was no longer on the ground, leaping high enough to bring his feet into the game and kicking Treage three times before landing. The pace of the fight rose again at that point, turning from a magnificent display of swordsmanship to an all-out, no-holds-barred brawl. For every blow Treage landed, Ron struck five times, using knees, elbows, fists...even his skull...but even with all that, he simply could not stop the juggernaut that was Treage Vitrauge.

Ron was extremely quick, ducking and evading time after time until one giant fist finally landed on his right temple and put him down, badly dazed. Treage dropped onto him instantly and pinned him to the turf with only one of his arms free...the broken one.

Treage took a beleaguered moment to gasp for breath and bask in the glory of his success.

"Finally!" he grunted as he grasped Ron's throat in his mighty hand and applied a massive amount of pressure. "Finally, I will have my revenge!"

Ron's focus returned quickly enough to hear that statement before he felt the crushing power of the giant's grip. Treage joined his other hand on that one and was sure he could snap Ron's neck as he smiled a gruesome smile at the man beneath his massive bulk.

Ron's face turned purple as he struggled to get some leverage to move the monstrous foe, but quickly found that he was completely pinned. His fractured arm sent searing messages of pain streaking to his brain as he pounded away at his adversary, but to no avail. His piercing gaze failed to let on how desperate his situation was, but his mind knew.

As he began to lose consciousness, certain of the outcome of this death-match, Ron's hand brushed against something in the grass...something cold, and slim, and sharp.

Without so much as a flicker of reasoning, that hand instinctively gripped the object and jammed it into Treage's side, causing an instantaneous result.

The fourteen inch long, broken short sword blade entered Treage's torso at an acute angle, instantly piercing one lung and both his hearts.

The fearsome snarl on the Reaper's face vanished straight away, as did his bravado. It was replaced by one of shock, of acknowledgement, of pain, and of fear! The immensely powerful creature who sat atop Ron, pinning him to the ground and choking the life from him suddenly seemed merely mortal. The blade had passed through the nerve nexus beneath his left armpit as well, and severed all control to that appendage...and the incomprehensible realization of that fact erased Treage's previous focus and objective.

The searing, white-hot agony blazing through his body forced him to feel for the cause of it...to discover exactly what had just happened to him.

Beneath his gargantuan frame, Ron Allison gulped air and growled up at him as if he were some crazed beast caught in a hunter's snare. Treage found the impediment quickly but barely an inch of it was left exposed and he couldn't grasp it with his thick fingers, especially with the gushing fluid pouring out over it...not that it would have mattered anyway.

Ron saw his chance and braced himself as best he could, and then kicked with all possible strength against the ground, forcing the Kreete's weight to shift enough to extract himself from his living prison. Treage grabbed for him again, but his might was gone...it draining out the same way his blood was. Ron scampered away a dozen peors and grabbed the black sword...staggering and coughing all the while, yet perfectly clear about his goal.

The great leader of the Kreete's mighty task force slowly turned his head to see his opponent, but his thoughts failed to get his body to respond...to prepare for battle. His legs were numb and quivering beneath him, but he managed one last task as Ron bolted for him. He grasped his com-disk, designed into the tunic of his uniform.

"All ships...fi...fire! Kill them all!"

The next lita and a half were the last he would ever see, as the demon-man's flashing blade sped toward him. He heard a distinct crackling sizzle, as if the air itself was being incinerated by the velocity of that sword passing through it...straight down at him.

### Chapter Thirty-five

### Kill Them All

As Treage's head bounded clear if his shoulders and his huge body fell limply to the grass-covered soil, Ron Allison raised his head to the skies above him and released his infamous vocal challenge to the hovering ships that threatened him and his allies. That call of the mountain folk was then joined by hundreds of his kinsmen who stood ready to fight to the death alongside their unassailable brethren.

Ron shook his dark weapon at them as if to taunt those great crafts out of the sky to wage war the old-fashioned way...up close and personal. He felt as ghastly as he looked, but would rather die in mortal combat than have no chance at all.

His challenge went unanswered however, and at that moment he felt a static electricity charge surging all around him. It prickled his skin and stood every hair upright as it filled the air. He knew exactly what that feeling was...they were charging weapons that would eliminate him and his army entirely, as if swatting a gnat.

The buildup was brief, and he bared his teeth like an angry tiger as he awaited the plasma burst that would come, but when it did, he flinched noticeably. He flinched because it was aimed away from the ground...at something in the sky to the southwest. In concert, every one of the six ships did the same thing. They kept the firepower pouring out too, in a blinding display of raw energy release, apparently desperate to defend themselves against some overwhelming, immediate threat.

Ron's mouth hung open out of complete astonishment, too stunned to move as the largest ship of the small fleet suddenly lit up in a bluish ball of light. Only for an instant did it glow as such though, because after that moment of brilliance it was utterly gone.

"What the he...?" he wondered.

The other five vessels each must have slapped their engines to the firewall in that tiny span of time because they vacated the vicinity of Huinrag so quickly that Ron couldn't even track in which direction they'd all gone.

Then the answer to the question he'd started to utter was apparent as a blurred shadow tore across that open bit of sky, and the following shockwave drove everyone on the field to one knee.

Ron recoiled from that sonic blast with a broad smile, and he held up his sword once more...this time in salute. The _Darlile_ was back!

"Attack!" cried the new leader of the Kreete army, giving no weight to the obvious fight above. His job was to carry out the final order of his commander..."Kill them all!"

Ron looked at the army that was so close now...closer than he'd noticed during his bout with Treage. He was in horrible shape and another round of battle was simply too much for him, but he stood his ground...his broken arm dangling and nearly useless, but his sword at the ready in his left hand. That's when he was once again stunned into a motionless stupor.

From the tree line at his back, where he was certain he was accompanied by no more than four hundred able fighters, at least three thousand men burst from the woods at a dead run, every single soul determined that they would reach Ronin's side before the enemy could...and that is exactly what they did. In the very lead was a large fellow whom Ron had met briefly, and who he'd rescued at an earlier date. It was Crogan Sevraign! To his right were Jarle Raidene and his younger brother Janson...but the lad no longer looked like a boy, having matured greatly in the past santaris...now he was a man!

"Ronin! Fall back!" Jarle bellowed.

Ron didn't need to be prodded further, even though his inner fire despised a retreat of any kind. He leapt to the nearby shield that had been Treage's and snatched it up. Then, holding the upper strap over his shoulder and looking very much like a wounded turtle, he headed for the woods with a pronounced limp.

The racing Caronians were still fifty peors away, but Ron knew that if he could survive long enough for them to reach him he would be fine, so he sped up to an agonizing lopsided trot, feeling arrows careening from that thick, metal-plated protection with every footfall.

While still thirty peors away, Crogan slowed only for the briefest of moments and launched a long spear with all of his momentum and strength...straight at Ron's head!

"Duck!" grunted the mighty Lampsh general.

Ron was well adept at battle by then and knew exactly what was happening even though he never glanced back. He merely dipped his shoulders as far as he could without stumbling, feeling the wind in his hair as that projectile whistled past. The heavy weapon drilled the closest Kreete warrior dead center of his waist, where the upper section of his armor was hinged to the free-swinging lower. It burst through that seam to impale him completely, felling him at the next step.

"Your job is done here, Ronin!" the great leader told Ron. "Go! We will handle it from here!"

Ron saw the look in his eyes and knew he was right. He and his men were fresh, and their hunger for battle was high. A thick volley of heavy arrows streaked overhead and into the advancing Kreete with stunning effect...and then they met.

Two large, burly men with obvious signs of recent battle wounds decorating their bodies rushed up and took the burden of the heavy shield from Ron. They immediately overlapped their own such devices with it and hastily escorted their champion to the safety of the forest's edge. There, six more warriors quickly moved in, and two of the spear throwing carts stood guard as well.

The "Great One" was not to be harmed!

Ron collapsed against a tree, the fractured limb cradled against his chest as it pounded his brain with negative news of its condition. A doctor and his aide immediately rushed up with water and food, and as Ron took their offerings eagerly they stretched him out and examined his injuries.

For the next three quarters of a billot, the battle raged in bloody, gory disdain for life, and when it was over, men stood firmly on the field...and not a single Kreete.

The grass was thick with the lifeblood of the two species, and the air quickly refilled with carrion eaters waiting their turn, they having been driven off earlier while the aircraft were in the vicinity. Ron glanced up at them and marveled at their serene perspective of the battle that had just been waged. So much death of men and Kreete alike would make their lives rich with bountiful nourishment.

"Such is the cycle of life," Ron mused.

Then, before his gaze left the heavens, the sleek black ship that had saved them all with its exceptional timing, passed overhead once again in a sweeping, slow turn that ended only a hundred peors from where he sat. That ship which was so dark it looked like solid shadow, and gave off no reflection of any kind, had an uncanny resemblance to an extraordinary aircraft from his homeworld. Ron Allison could not resist a smile at the mere sight of it.

As the Raulden super-ship, the _Darlile_ settled to the ground, Ron moved to get up. His more serious wounds were stitched up by then, his leg was wrapped heavily, and a sling was supporting his damaged arm until he could have it immobilized properly. The young female assistant was applying a thick salve to the dozens of scrapes and gouges on his back as the rumble of the powerful engines began to dissipate.

"We are not finished, my Lord!" she told him shakily, so awestruck to be actually touching the legendary hero...Ronin Alsone of Erthania.

Ron broke his gaze from the dark ship to look at the woman with surprise apparent on his face.

"Miss, I..."

"I am called Kaiyla, my Lord," she told him, lowering her eyes to his feet.

"Kaiyla," he said softly to her, tenderly urging her face back up with a gentle finger, "thank you very much for your care, but please do not refer to me as 'My Lord'."

Her expression switched abruptly from one of pure admiration to that of being admonished...or insulted. Ron noticed the alteration and smiled at her to ease her concern, and so she softened her features again, still a bit confused.

"I am no 'Lord'. I rule no one. I am just another man...and you may call me Ron...as all my friends do."

She practically beamed with exuberance at his inclusion of her into his group of "friends".

"Yes, my L...Ron. Thank you!"

"Now, I must go and see about this ship."

He stood stiffly but waved off any assistance, thanking the doctor as he ignored his advice to rest and allow them to tend him further. Ron then began moving toward the _Darlile_ with growing haste, his pace quickening as his muscles warmed again. He abruptly brushed aside any thoughts about the damage to his body to make room for the pressing questions he had for the pilot of that craft.

He was only thirty peors away when the invisible door jumped inward and slid up and out of view. Cache Kuar stepped into that portal a half lita later, her bright blonde hair reflecting the white star's radiance like a mirror. To Ron, she almost glowed against the contrast of the blackness of the _Darlile_ 's hull. She was adorned in her custom, light-gray-colored flight suit, and had a slim, brown satchel dangling off her left shoulder. She hurriedly scanned the sun-drenched field briefly before seeing Ron running in her direction, and her heart leaped to life.

"He is alive!" her inner self rejoiced in complete elation as she bounded down to the grass to meet him.

Ron caught her up in a sweeping, scooping hug that whirled her around and around...her feet flying through the air a foot and a half above the grass, and her heart in the clouds. She held to him tightly, as he did her, and they felt the old feelings they'd shared at one time...for a moment...those of true friends, of respect, of relief, and of love. But then Ron could hardly overlook the obvious, and her life joined to another, so he set her down still grinning wildly at her.

"You did it!" he exclaimed. "You salvaged the shuttle and made it to the lab!"

"Yes...but we have no time, Ron! You must..."

"You aren't injured," he interrupted, his large hand pressing firmly against her belly.

She trembled with delight at the feel of his touch, wishing she could take him away for some long overdue explanations...but she couldn't...there was no time.

"No, we are fine, but you..."

"They didn't hurt you...or threaten you?"

"Who? Oh, not 'they', Ron...'he'...and no, he..."

"Ron!" screamed a new voice from the doorway.

Ron's head snapped around to witness a four-foot leap into his arms by Josylinia Gitove. He spun to catch her flying figure, but was so surprised that she bowled him over and they both crashed to the ground. Ron let out a grunt that brought his raven-haired goddess to a halt of her steamy embrace.

"Oh, Ron...Baushe! I'm sorry! You're hurt...again!"

She immediately disengaged and knelt by his now sitting form, her eyes dripping tears of joy.

"Can I not let you out of my sight for a few days without you fighting the entire Kreete army?" she berated him jokingly, while stroking his face and scanning his numerous wounds. "We heard your fight with Treage over the Com in the _Darlile_. The Kreete were broadcasting it in great detail!" She then kissed him hard; her arms locked around his neck...but broke it off suddenly. "Cache was amazing! You should've seen her flying that ship! She...wait! We have no time!" she concluded, remembering their situation and glancing at the Raulden beauty.

"Ron, can you fly?" Cache asked quickly, dropping to his side and staring at his arm in the sling.

Ron saw the sternness of her face.

"I can do what I have to!" he replied, his mind slipping back into the battle mode once more.

"There is a fleet of fourteen fighters on the way, and they are like nothing I have ever seen before. Their designation was 'Assassin Class', and the last communiqué the _Darlile's_ computer gleaned from their com-system was, 'Now we will see if the intelligence was correct!'.

"Ron, their shields rival those of the Destroyers we faced, and their firepower is unknown, but I would guess that it must be very impressive. I think they were designed specifically to fight the _Darlile_!"

"And they just happen to be here on Caron because they figured that Kaskle would be likely to attempt to liberate his homeworld before any others?" Ron concluded.

"Exactly! I know you have been through a tremendous campaign, but I do not think that I can face such crafts. I did okay against those common, slower ships, but..."

"I understand...and well done, Cache!" he told her, hauling her into his long arms in a great hug. "You men," Ron called to several who had gathered about, of which there were now hundreds. "Take these ladies to your doctors. Their skills will be greatly needed, I'm sure.

"Don't you worry," he then whispered into Cache's ear. "I'll handle it!"

Ron gave her one last, quick hug and then turned to Josy.

"Good luck, my love!" she told him in a hushed tone when their faces were only an inch apart. "I shall see you soon?"

Ron kissed her, gave her a wink, and then was off to the black ship.

"Get everyone back!" he ordered to Crogan before disappearing into the _Darlile_.

The tight fit of the cockpit's confines was difficult to negotiate with his injuries, but once there, he felt much better. The support structure of the seat was very welcoming and the old exhilaration rush began again as he flipped through the start sequence.

As power returned to the vid-screens and the instruments though, and Ron saw what they showed, he gasped. Those fighters were right on top of him! He reconfigured the _Darlile's_ shields to expand enough to encompass and protect the troops all around him a half lita before their first salvo slammed into the ship, jolting him harshly and rocking the dark warship badly.

Ron slipped his flight helmet on and continued his preparations as quickly as he could, watching the attacking aircraft pull up sharply into a tight loop, and hoping his engines could light before they came back.

The _Darlile_ 's shields were at five percent!

By the time they did return though, the battlefield was clear and the shadow-ship of immense lethality was hovering ten feet above the ground. The attackers were in position for another volley when Ron's power grid went green and he hesitated not in the least, gritting his teeth and slamming the throttles to the forward stops.

As the _Darlile_ leapt into motion an instant before the ground was incinerated from the fighter's cannons, he let fly his own weapons. One plasma burst struck each of the three leading fighters, but his scans saw no resulting drain of their energy outputs.

"This could be bad!" he muttered.

"I saw that too," said a voice in his ear. "Stay away from them until your shields can regenerate!"

"Cache?"

"Yes...I am monitoring you and the _Darlile_ from a portable uplink!"

Ron felt immediately better knowing she would be watching along with him. In the heat of battle, he would need to focus on the fight itself, and with her covering the peripherals; he would be able to do just that.

He was currently being pressed deeply into the pilot seat and his breath was pushing hard to escape...and he loved it. He was also elated that the dark lady had lost none of her muscle during her long santaris of sleep up in the frozen camp...the acceleration easily surpassing any sustainable level he could endure.

He blasted out across the Greishere Highlands in a flash...putting some distance between him and his attackers to give the _Darlile_ the necessary time she needed to recover, before easing back on the thrust enough to allow him to speak.

"I'm glad you're with me!"

Cache smiled. "Now, without your G-suit, it will be more difficult to sustain your normal maneuvers, but the computer will follow your vitals and make adjustments to compensate."

Ron began dipping, darting, and whipping the ship through its paces for a quick refresher course of her balance, power, and agility...and he smiled even more.

When he was five hundred hoz from Huinrag, and the ship's defenses were back up to full strength, he turned his path around to a heading that would engage those threatening birds.

The scans of the fighters revealed little, due to some very impressive distortion protocols in their systems, but he could see them clearly. They were extremely slim, a third the size of the _Darlile_ , with forward canards and short, extendable-retractable wings. As they closed, he found out that they were also remarkable responsive.

"Let's rock!" he growled.

Ron couldn't tell the range of their weapons either, so he got as close as he could before the wrath of the black ship was announced. The fourteen smaller aircraft instantly broke into a seemingly random dispersal pattern, forcing Ron to pick a single target to chase, and when he did, they all moved into converging positions as well.

Ron saw this new strategy and grunted at them.

"That's what I would do!" he grumbled as he throttled up to overhaul the running craft...but so did it.

"Geez...how fast is this thing?"

He slapped the T-handle forward for a second time and the _Darlile_ pinned him to the seat again. The fleeing craft detected that tactic and sped up more too, but not enough to keep Ron from gaining. The fighter fired and Ron took the hit cleanly, not even trying to evade it...wanting to know exactly what he was up against.

"That one blast took almost ten percent of your shields!" Cache informed him.

Ron had already seen that result and returned fire, breaking into evasive maneuvers that would hopefully defer as many more of those jolts as he could.

The _Darlile's_ targeting sensors were superb and he scored a direct hit, even though he clearly couldn't match the nimbleness of the smaller craft. The shot had no detectable effect.

"Cache, did you see that?"

"Yes!" was all she replied.

"How can they...?"

"I do not know. Either they are masking our ability to read the true damage to them, or their shields are impenetrable."

By then, the thirteen other fighters were firing, their allies having forced Ron into a chase which brought him back to them. Now it was time for Ron to get serious...and they soon found out that serious was his second nature.

Ron hugged the landscape so tightly that his wake was full of leaves and dirt. Up and down the rugged countryside, the _Darlile_ raced at a maddening rate with only feet to spare at most times. Cache could hardly watch her screen without feeling the pressure and undulations of what she knew he was enduring. She was swept away with flashbacks of her time in the battle for Rauld...a time when she had to strain her considerably strong will to keep from losing her stomach contents.

The sounds of the cockpit were also transmitted to her laptop monitor and she could clearly hear Ron straining against the pressures he was imposing upon that warbird. His breath was quick and short, not allowing too much of his lungs to deflate...afraid that they would not be able to refill...and his grunts and straining winces transferred plainly to Cache and those closest to her.

Crogan and many of the leaders of the armies knelt around that little pregnant woman, not speaking, and hanging on every sound that was emitted. After a release of air that was tinged obviously with pain, Crogan broke in.

"What is that?"

Cache was glancing at Ron's physical readouts just then.

"Every time he makes an extreme maneuver, the force on his body crushes him as if his weight was a hundred times its normal amount, and his fractured arm is very near the point of snapping completely."

Her voice trembled with worry. "I do not know how he can stand it."

Ron was constantly scanning far ahead with the help of his sensors and focused on an upcoming change in the land, sending the _Darlile_ into a ravine that was so tight, he saw the walls of it light up his shields' edges as he scraped both sides at once.

Six of the attackers dropped down into that precarious channel with him...and the chase was on. The _Darlile's_ electronic feelers fed him a detailed reading of what was up ahead, so he might have at least a hair's width of anticipation of changes and turns, so he pushed the throttle harder.

The closest ships were firing again and Ron dove for the tiny sliver of a waterway below, shattering the peaceful environment with his passage, and sending tons of loose rocks careening off the nearby cliffs.

Up and down, twisting and rolling, he squirmed the _Darlile_ through that death-defying gauntlet of stone, firing nearly nonstop at the closest following pair of ships. He kept pounding away at them as they did him, but still saw no signs of their weakening while his own shields dropped to sixty percent.

Around the next, extremely tight turn, the river opened up at a wider, deeper point, and Ron dove for that surface hard. Four of the followers were glued to his tail and his aft shields were down to twenty five percent when he pulled up, barely three feet above that lake...and that's precisely what he'd hoped for.

With a shove of the T-handle at his left hand, the shadow ship jumped forward with a burst of acceleration that pushed instantly past supersonic and through to hypersonic...sucking up a hundred foot wall of water from the lake that resembled a gigantic waterfall...upside down!

Those fighters that had dared the precarious chase hit that column of liquid at nearly nine hundred hoz per billot...and those shields that seemed impervious to the _Darlile_ 's weapons could not help them. It was like striking a solid stone cliff, and only shrapnel penetrated that point as they each were obliterated in a violent explosion.

Ron pulled the _Darlile_ into a vertical climb to scatter the group that paced him from above, which worked well. As he exploded from the deep crevasse, he pounded the nearest fighter with a triple burst of disruptor plasma at point blank range, and then continued on, streaking for the upper atmosphere.

"That did it!" Ron heard blasting through his communicator.

He checked his readings and confirmed that the smaller craft was no longer blocking his scans...its shields were down! That particular aircraft didn't pursue either, breaking off immediately and heading south, flying close along the ground...obviously trying to regenerate.

Ron instantly threw the mighty engines of the black ship into full reverse, causing six of the chase planes to soar past him in blinding speed. Two others couldn't veer away fast enough to keep from clipping the _Darlile's_ shields, and they careened off at odd angles, both tumbling badly, apparently out of control.

Ron's reactions were faster, targeting them both and enveloping each in the one-of-a-kind, energy-draining, particle disrupting blast of energy that Cache had developed back on her homeworld. They didn't explode, or even show visible damage...nor did they stabilize their attitudes as Caron's pull against them seemed too much to defy. They merely continued to tumble.

Ron tracked them on his monitor, but was already turned and throttled up on his own race toward the planet's surface, intent on catching up with the fighter he'd wounded.

"Do you see this?" Cache was querying to Ron.

"Yep...and that explains a lot! No wonder they can maneuver so well!"

Ron caught the escaping craft, sweeping it at close range with the _Darlile_ 's advanced sensors before watching it evaporate in the ball of blue energy the black ship spit forth. He then pointed the Raulden warbird toward the Taerdrasseg Mountains again and urged her to even greater speed.

"They are robotic!"

Ron felt a new rain of enemy firepower blasting away at his ship as he reached the foothills of those enormous peaks, and knifed the sleek spacecraft narrowly through a pair of columns that jutted up majestically out of the ground like two ancient sentinels. The sight of them was absolutely magnificent, with eons of time creating a breathtaking, wind and rain worn work of art. Those spires stood at the edge of an evergreen valley which swept down to a glass-smooth lake with snowy peaks all around. Ron could have stayed there an entire billot just gazing at the natural wonder of it all, but...

The _Darlile_ issued another pair of mighty blasts from her cannons as she streaked past...and those ancient monoliths stood no more. The strikes were at the base of each stone formation and as they teetered inward, the following fighters had nowhere to go. Two more of those agile, lethal aircraft were obliterated against the rocky pillars, and a third was enveloped in the explosion of them that fouled its primary control and sent it spiraling into the mountainside.

"Well done!" Cache cried over the com-link. "That leaves only four!"

"Yeah, but my shields are gone."

"You have to get away! Use the ship's speed!"

Ron was already on top of that idea and climbing hard, but the pilotless fighters were going hard too, and were already above him.

"Ron!" Cache said to him sternly, watching his heart rate soar, as did his blood pressure. "Back off a bit!"

Ron kept the throttle to the max...the ship shaking violently as more disruptor fire slammed into her. He had his jaw set tightly; hoping the super-metal the ship was built out of (the same material his sword was crafted from) could withstand the attack a few more litas until he was out of range.

Cache watched her readouts with the dire strain of terror pronounced on her face, and nearly puked when she heard his arm snap with a coordinated, high-pitched puff of utter agony escaping his lips.

"Ron...you cannot keep this up! It is too much! The Gs will kill you!"

Roelantish gripped her slim shoulders firmly. "Have faith!" he urged her.

Ron kept the power plants maxed.

### Chapter Thirty-six

### A Little Help Please

Ron's breath was extremely quick by then and his vision was gone. He was flying by feel alone, straining to stay coherent long enough to outpace those threatening birds...and he nearly made it too...nearly! But a precision blast on his #2 engine flamed it out and the left one pushed the _Darlile_ over hard, into a fantastic spin. Ron managed just enough thought to pull back on the power, but then he was hit again and the interior lights, as well as the view screens, went dark.

"Oh no!" Cache moaned.

"What is it?" Rasche asked, hearing the panic in her voice. What happened?"

Cache's fingers were flying over the touch-pad of her mobile station. She was still receiving data about altitude, life support, status of most primary systems, etc. and her face went white.

"Ron, can you still hear me?"

"Yes," he grunted through gnashed teeth. "I've got nothing up here! The ship's not responding." He was sweating bullets and was positive that the only thing keeping him lucid at all was the unbelievable pain his body was reporting.

"I know...I know! The computer is searching for ways to redirect power around the damage. Stand by!"

"No problem," he muttered as he fought against the spinning and the relentless pounding that the ship was still taking. "How can this bird take that kind of punishment?" he pondered to himself as he tumbled.

That dizzying, rolling, and jarring plunge would have forced any normal pilot to abandon his ship and eject, but Ron Allison would not relent. His will to win drove him to the very brink of disaster in the hope that his partner would somehow find a way to overcome this drastic problem.

The fighters swept in and around the falling _Darlile_ , like hyenas taking bites from a wounded lion. They wailed away at her hull with energy blasts that sounded like bolts of lightning...followed by the usual thunder...and inside the confines of the black ship, Ron was nearly deafened. If it hadn't been for the miraculous technology of the Rauldens', he felt certain he would have been long dead. As it was though, he was helpless in his seat, straining, grunting, and even growling at his situation...wondering how long the ship could possibly hold together.

Suddenly, the pounding stopped and he was left with only the spiraling weightlessness of freefall. At that point, the _Darlile_ was inverted and dropping fast."

"Cache! What happened?"

"I would ask you the same thing."

"I have no idea, but the bombardment has stopped!"

"The ship's sensors are still dead...no, wait!"

The lights inside the battle-weary craft flickered a couple of times and then returned steady.

"You should have..."

"Yeah! It's all coming back!"

Ron watched the view screen blink on and off twice before it too stabilized, and his fingers were already calling for engine restart. Once that was in progress, he searched for the fighters on the screen. They were nearby, but now it was they who were under attack, by six of the super-fast interceptor crafts that had saved the army earlier.

"What the...?"

"It is Karne!" Cache called to Ron while connecting their com-units. "He and some of his men!"

"Get that bird back in the fight, 'Little Man'!" growled the Reaper.

Ron could hear the pounding he was taking in the background, and knew what he meant.

"I'm on it!"

One engine burst back to life and Ron threw the power to it, instantly ceasing his spin and blasting away from the battle zone quickly. Karne's troops were getting torn to pieces, and he saw two pilots eject as their crafts split in half and exploded.

At the instant the _Darlile_ veered away, the fighters immediately broke off their assault on the attacking Kreete and streaked to reengage their primary target.

The _Darlile_ was fast, but with only one engine, they caught her quickly...and Ron was back on the deck again and cursing the other engine that was still dead.

"The mechnauts have to change a blown convergence emitter-regulator," Cache explained. "It will take a few borts!"

"Son of a..." Ron grunted as he pressed the black ship between cliffs and mountains he would never have dared before...having to do it while fighting the gut churning pain of his broken limb...the one that was steering the ship!

"I don't have that kind of time!"

Ron then broke through the rugged terrain and tore out across a large bay that was interjecting itself far into the mainland. The battle had taken him more than three thousand hoz from its origin! He pulled hard on the _Darlile_ , banking to return to the protection of the rocky land...but then an idea hit him...a single fact from his first lessons about the mighty Raulden spacecraft. Instead of turning, he snap rolled the black bird and skimmed the surface of the inlet.

"How fast can I hit the water and still survive?"

Cache queried the computer quickly.

"On this planet, no more than four hundred hoz per billot."

Ron threw up every bit of air spoilers he had and reversed the engine at full power. As his body was hurled against the seat restraints with painful results, the fighters blasted him with a couple of shots that weren't solid (luckily) as they screamed past. They immediately looped tightly to return.

Ron was convinced that he couldn't slow down enough in the time it took for them to have him in their sights again so he plunged the ship in anyway. Fortunately for him, the emergency support system in the _Darlile_ was far superior to that of the shuttle he had crashed in previously. When the impact was sensed as eminent, a dozen extra restraints shot out around his body in nearly total coverage to protect him. Even with that however, the shock still knocked the wind out of him and rattled his teeth enough for Cache to fear for his life.

"Ron!" she screamed.

No response.

"Ron! Say something!"

Silence still...then, "That hurt!"

"Oh my dar..." she began, and then whispered, "Guardian please protect him!"

The fighters did not relent...but neither did they follow, since their design was for speed and lethality in air or space, not for the crushing pressures the _Darlile_ was sustaining.

The energy blasts from the deadly Kreete vessels finally yielded to the fluidic environment at about a hundred peors...although every fish and sea creature within half a hoz was killed. Clouds and rain would not affect those menacing bursts of plasma, but cutting through thousands of cubic tons of seawater was a different matter altogether.

The supplemental restraints released Ron after the initial impact, so when the enemy could no longer reach the _Darlile_ , he leveled off his descent. Cache was frantically working on her remote station, cataloguing the damage and repair requirements.

While she did that, the wide viewscreen of the _Darlile_ 's cockpit transmitted a spectacular sight of the living ocean right at Ron's fingertips, and he was entranced by it. And if it weren't for the harrowing circumstances of his predicament, Ron would've been happy to enjoy the calm tranquility of the ocean for a good, long while.

As it was though...

"Okay, Ron...the bots are nearly finished with the engine repair and the shields are coming back on line, but three of the four power transducers are beyond repair so you will only get about thirty percent protection from them.

"Also, I think I may have found a way to get through the fighters' defenses."

"Yeah? How's that?" he asked, fully expecting some extremely dangerous stunt would be required.

"I have their shield frequency and disruptor codes."

"You beautiful little genius!" he told her with a wide grin.

Ron then smiled a cold, insidious sneer as he called upon the second of the dark ship's propulsion modules to return to duty, eager now to return to the fight.

The unique manner in which the engines operated was all that allowed such an action in such a place, and before two borts had passed, the _Darlile_ was churning the dense water with its twin power plants emitting superheated energy.

Ron knew that the circling ships could easily outpace him while he was submerged, so he pointed the nose straight up and throttled forward.

The fighters positioned themselves around his exit point and waited for him to break the surface for maximum yield to their weapons, the combination of which would surely cripple, if not destroy the black ship without its shields in place.

At just a hundred feet to go, Ron flipped on his shield generator and triggered the _Darlile_ 's cannons. Three bursts of energy erupted from that watery position and scored direct hits against the three targets he'd selected...and three ships exploded.

The remaining vessel slammed Ron as hard as it could with its maximum yield...but the _Darlile_ did not slow, did not waver, and did not weaken.

"Yeah!" Ron shouted. "Now that's more like it!"

He gave his weapons just enough time to refill the capacitor that furnished them, and then banked around and attacked. The fighter charged at him at first, and then broke off abruptly, heading northeast at a high rate.

"They called it back!" Cache informed Ron. "It is headed for Pigonta!"

Ron wasn't in the mood for that. His injured arm protested loudly with tremendous jabs of pain, but the black ship shot forward nevertheless in the wake of the smaller war machine.

The _Darlile_ reeled in the fighter handily, and then he squeezed off a triple burst which ended the entire campaign in a blast of blue-green energy.

Following that act he finally heeded Cache's recommendations and backed down on the power, and reveled in the profound relief of that act on his battered form.

A few moments later he swung around once more, and headed back to Huinrag, searching for signs of his assistants' aircraft as he went.

"Cache, is this channel secure?"

"Yes," she replied as she quickly swapped to an earpiece and changed to Earth English to avoid anyone eavesdropping. "The broadcast is scrambled in a very secure encoding and currently I am the only listener. You may speak freely."

Ron heard the change in her speech and adjusted to it with great curiosity, but without problem. "Have you heard from Karne?"

"Not directly, but they did survive. He picked up the downed pilots that ejected and they should be here at any time. But I have some other news as well. The Lord of Caron, Gotliig Pigonta has called his fleet with orders to destroy every human city on Caron if the _Darlile_ does not surrender by the time they arrive. The ships are numerous and the deployment will be vast. I am afraid that without the energy field to assist us, Ron, even you cannot protect them all."

"What about that shield? Why has it not energized?"

"The drilling team ran into a thick vein of ore that they could not penetrate. They finally got through it with Ketlical's help, but that substance is causing some peculiar irregularities that have baffled them for quite a while now. He is working on it as we speak, with the best engineers on Rauld, but when I was forced to leave him, they still did not know how long before it would be operable. They were also having a difficult time matching the shield matrices to the atmospheric harmonics...parameters that took several santaris to finally master on Rauld."

"That's just freaking perfect!" he thought sarcastically. Then..."Do you think the _Darlile_ can escape in her condition?"

"Yes, I am sure that she can," Cache replied, still guarding her responses due to the crowd around her. "The engines are running perfectly so all we have to do is avoid the fleet, which will be otherwise engaged, but, Ron...surely you cannot seriously..."

"Cache," he cut her off harshly. "I need you to get Josy and meet me at the ship as soon as I land. If it comes down to it, I will not lose you two! Bring Jorin as well, of course. I will speak to Roe myself...and Karne. I'm afraid that Mishea may be lost."

"But Ron...we cannot..."

"Do as I say...please!"

She closed the case at that point and turned to the surrounding audience.

"He is alright!" she called out to everyone, and they broke out in wild cheers for their hero. "He will be here soon!"

The entire army erupted at that and the tension abruptly dropped from them all. Cache used that distraction to pass a word along to Rasche, Jarle, Crogan, and Roelantish.

"Get your leaders together. We need a meeting...quickly!"

That assemblage was delayed for a bit by the incoming two vessels that had survived the aerial conflict with the fighters. Karne, Larson, Brauchic, and three other Kreete warriors disembarked to a shaky welcome.

That bit of tension warmed quickly though, spooling up into a frantic, cheering roar after Cache explained just who it was that stood before them...the pilots who had saved their hero!

Those in charge hurriedly gathered at a point away from the celebrating men, and as the _Darlile_ raced toward them, Cache explained what was happening about the global situation. The disappointment and shock was clearly evident in each face...and then Crogan spoke.

"Can your ship escape?"

"Yes," she replied awkwardly.

"Then you and Ronin should go!"

"But we cannot! How...?"

"Yes you can...and you must. I know...no, that is not correct...'WE' know that you did all you could, and we don't hold you responsible. The lives lost on this world may be unavoidable, but the device will eventually protect the few that manage to survive...right?"

Cache just nodded, tears suddenly drizzling down her fuzzy cheeks. "I am so sorry!"

"Many families live out in the wilds, beyond the cities that will be destroyed, and so many of our kinsmen will carry on as well. All of Caron will not be lost in this retaliation.

"Too, Lilea told me that Ron has spoken of other worlds out in the heavens like ours, fighting so survive under the Kreete's rule. They will need you to live beyond this attack.

"Go and do what you can to help them."

The group of men...each one still wearing the bloody battle gear they'd risked their lives in, stood in a tight circle. Every face was so hard and grisly that she would have been afraid to speak to any of them a cycle and a half before, but now they did their best to comfort the distraught little blonde.

"We have fought hard, and will meet the Guardian well!" Rasche told her. "Do as Crogan said, and live to fight another day. Help another planet. You have learned a great deal here, and I know you will succeed!"

The Kreete armada was moving into position above the planet as Ron landed at Huinrag, a half billot later. He considered attacking them, but the _Darlile_ was too damaged to take into all-out war again. Two thirds of her systems were running only due to the bypasses the mechnauts had been able to arrange. She needed at least a week's worth of attention before such an act could be made a reality.

Ron reconfigured the shield output again to extend its umbrella over the men in the meadow.

The _Darlile_ settled to the ground but its engines kept running this time as Ron disembarked to a hero's cheer. The men were ecstatic over their great victory and the group of leaders strolled over directly, with Josy among them.

Ron stepped quickly toward the approaching crowd, his right arm interlaced securely in his weapons' harness for support, and his face completely distraught...not to mention coated heavily with sweat. That aerial battle had severely strained him, and the exhaustion he felt was merely the icing on his multilayered cake of injuries and pain.

"I have configured the shields to cover this area, but it will only hold for one blast...maybe two," Ron told them dejectedly. "I'm afraid we have failed you all!"

They slapped him on the back with smiles lighting their faces...which really surprised him.

"You have failed no one, Ronin! It was worth it to go to war with such a man as you!" Crogan told him with a resounding 'here-here' from the rest. "They will not kill us all because they need us to support them...and so I know Caron will be free one day. Now it is up to a greater power than ours...even than yours."

That quick little meeting was abruptly broken up however, by a shout from a fellow who'd been lying in the grassy shade of a tree and just enjoying having survived the battles.

"Look at that! What is it?"

They all followed his staring and pointing to see a growing, green ball of energy heading toward them...then another...then another, until the sky was dotted by hundreds.

"Into the ship!" Rasche ordered Ron and his little group.

Ron headed away, escorting the ladies and forcibly expediting them. Josy didn't wish to abandon her brother and parents, but Karne insisted.

"Go with Ron, Baby-girl!" the giant being told his daughter gently, as he watched her face contort with grief. "I have lived a long life, and its end was inevitable. Go with him and live. Have your own family...and be happy...for us!"

Karne had to forcibly shove her into Ron's arms, Josy sobbing terribly, but he did what he knew he must to save his little girl.

Ron corralled them into the protective confines of the ship before giving one last look skyward. It was then that he noticed a distinct change come over the land. The air felt charged again suddenly...brisk...with a definite chill surging through them all, even in the heat of the sunlit day.

"Wait!" Ron told them, scanning the area and sniffing the air like a wild beast. "Something is happening!"

The feeling grew in a rush, as if a gust of ice-tinged wind was sweeping down from the great mountains.

"Look!" cried a couple dozen men in unison.

The encroaching energy ball, which had grown to a hoz wide diameter, was fading...fading...then it hit!

That initial salvo struck them all with a 'crack', followed by a loud 'boom', but under the _Darlile_ 's protection, no one felt a thing other than the reverberation of the sound.

Now all the other energy bursts began to fade and disappear as well, while the entire crowd of warriors stood stunned and speechless. Ron snapped his attention over to Cache who flipped open her case once more. A moment later she looked up, her face ablaze with joy and relief!

"It is up!" she cried out, so full of sheer delight that she could hardly contain it. "It is up and stable! He did it! Ketlical did it!"

She pressed the surface of the unit and Ron saw Ketlical's face rushing to the monitor.

"Is it working?" he asked, his demeanor one of great alarm. "I saw the ships firing! Is everyone alright?"

Cache beamed at him, tears flowing freely from her violet eyes and rolling down her golden cheeks. "Yes, yes! You did it Ket! You saved us all!"

Ron couldn't restrain a chuckle when he saw the relief on Ketlical's face as he plopped down in a chair with a tremendous sigh. The fair-skinned Raulden then turned to the half-dozen assistants and technauts...

"Well done! Well done, all of you!"

A quick explanation from the leadership group swept through the army and a bedlam of calls, whistles, and cheering of every sort instantly broke out. Even the wounded were cheering and crying from happiness as they waited to be looked after.

Ron hugged Cache tightly with his good arm and kissed her cheek before Roelantish ripped her from his grasp and hoisted her on his broad shoulder. The band of warriors then erupted with even more cheering and began chanting her name.

Josy latched herself to Ron like glue, her eyes raining her own tears of elation and love...filled with pride for him while her fears and worries from barely moments before began swiftly drifting away.

The mountain clansmen had maintained their positions throughout the battles, but now dropped from their high perches and gathered for a quick celebration...and then began a head count. Ron saw them searching the woods, so he peeled himself from Josy's grasp with a deep, parting kiss, and then joined them straightaway.

She desperately wanted to stay at his side, but the moans from those who still suffered could be heard in the distance so she left him to his duty and went to her own.

The remaining men of Rasche's army saw the Piercellione performing that somber search, and immediately did likewise. Crogan's larger group of fresher soldiers swarmed out onto the grass to help, and into the woods as well, even dispatching recovery teams into Huinrag. Every able soul set off looking for their friends or kin who might have survived...rejoicing when any were found alive...and grieving sorely when they were not.

At the outset, the mood was overflowing with hope and joy and relief and pride in all they'd accomplished. Then, as the rows of dead grew immensely long, laid out across the once beautiful grassy meadow, the realization of what such a tremendous victory had cost them took center stage, and the sorrow for the wounded and the dead truly began in earnest.

Karne and his men saw what was happening and took the opportunity to loot Huinrag for over a billot. Many Caronians wondered at their disappearance and began to grow suspicious, but Roe and Lilea went out to greet them upon their return and then all their worries dropped aside. When introduced to the human leadership assembly, the mighty warriors first bowed deeply in a humbling show of respect, and then brought forward three wagons full of medical supplies they'd found. They then assisted in treating those in need, as well as training scores of others on the uses of such items.

It was very unnerving to many of the injured to see these enormous, hideous, vicious looking brutes patiently explaining how best to handle the varieties of injuries, but when their pain was eased or erased entirely, and their wounds were closed, they quickly became more open to that sort of change.

The entire evening was spent in a hurried inspection of the area, and in collecting those that were missing. Many soldiers found throughout the wooded areas were only wounded, and were swiftly hauled away to the infirmary area...but the vast majority were lost to the Creator.

The sorrow and tears that came with so much death seemed too difficult to endure for the few left alive. Grief threatened to override the unimaginable achievement those lost souls had earned...the great victory nearly forgotten...until Crogan Sevraign arose and made a speech.

From atop a very large wagon, the mighty general from the western valley bellowed out his call to bring everyone's attention to bear. As the sun bid this triumphant day farewell in the west, nearly touching the edge of the high plateau, the multitude of survivors and supporters was amassed in a gently sloping grassy clearing. Their new campsite lay half a hoz east of the point of the gory carnage that marked the remains of the battle, and north of the decimated, scorched forest.

"Hear me! My fellow warriors...hear me now!" Crogan called, pausing long enough to gather their awareness. "For those of you who do not know me, I am Crogan Sevraign...leader of the army of the Yetsole Valley!

"I look across this meadow now and see MEN! Men who have survived the 'Great War' and now weep for those who did not...and I am proud!

"What we have all witnessed here today will be forever seared into our minds...and branded onto our hearts. Those who were taken from us in the struggle for this land are still fresh in our thoughts, and that loss stabs at us like a steel blade...but let me say this!

"They did not give their lives for us to hang our heads at their passing...to cry over them until we lose sight of what glorious achievement we have gained. They fought and they died for a free Caron...a Caron without a yoke...without masters who cull us like pravorts to the slaughter, and use us as their beasts, and make our women their whores! A Caron where our children, and their children, will build, and rule, and live, and love as they see fit!

"We have 'WON' that world! 'They' have won that world for us with their sacrifice! Let us now rejoice...in honor to 'THEM'!"

Rasche Brindle then turned from the base of that great wagon..."TO THE MEN OF CARON!" he roared with his sword in hand, upraised to the heavens.

"TO THE MEN OF CARON!" cried the crowd in a rumbling, unified cheer.

At that moment, the dead were not dismissed, or ignored...instead...they were glorified and hailed as heroes! There were still many dripping eyes in the vast numbers that spread about, but they cried out of pride, in honor of their fallen comrades, not grief.

Following that toast the party really got out of hand when a wagonload of strong alcoholic spirits rolled out the main gate of Huinrag, heading for the troops. They laughed and sang and danced and drank until the early morning, when the drink ran out and so did their energy.

At the beginning of that celebratory night, just after sundown, when a large feast was far in the past, several of the leaders...the core group that had grown the closest...sat in a tight circle. Heath, Jarle and Janson, Lilea and Crogan, Ron and Josy, Cache, and Roelantish, all lounged around a fire with Karne and Larson while the Reaper filled them in about his latest exploits.

He and Larson had traveled to Pigonta with the Hellions where he was met at the outer edge of the city's security grid and placed under formal arrest. Karne's exemplary record of meritorious service, and the fact that they both surrendered willingly, allowed them a peaceful and dignified encounter. The military escort didn't confine them at that point, and their laws didn't even mandate they relinquish their personal weapons until the charges were found to be accurate...unless hostilities altered such niceties.

They were taken into the city and placed in a security compound, yet given all common amenities of their kind's lavish technological advancements.

Karne and his son then searched the database of the central computer, and since he was still in command of his Reaper status credentials, found out exactly what was happening outside Pigonta. They read up on how much the planet council knew about the resistance, even what their upcoming strategies were, and exactly who was calling the shots.

They spent the better part of two weeks under "house arrest" until the Caronian Council could be brought together to hear their case. That was Karne's request. They had condemned him by majority vote, so they were the ones who would have to convey their reasons for such a decision. After all, he had once been one of them, and his incredibly impressive military record far surpassed most of their own.

As he followed Treage's failures in the warfront, he came up with a plan that removed his nemesis from the battlefield for ten days, giving the rebels enough time to circumvent the fully organized response he would surely have ordered at Gardilane...and then again at Broken Oar.

To accomplish that delay, Karne had demanded to see the evidence Treage used against him, so that he might refute it. He also exercised his right that it all be explained by the accuser...Treage himself.

In the Kreete military code of honor and justice, the accused had the option to face his accuser. He was even granted the opportunity to challenge that individual in mortal combat to settle the dispute...if the evidence was not overwhelming enough to supersede the allowance.

When Treage laid out his surveillance recordings and his theory about just what it meant, Karne took a copy and utilized his maximum allowable time of seven days to examine it. And even though it only took him half a day to cover it thoroughly enough to create doubt about its worth, he gained the resistance an extra week to prepare...time he knew they sorely needed.

"The first video showed you, Ron," Karne recalled to the group, "along with Jarle and Janson, waging war with several scouts from the Avators...and defeating them, I might add. You moved from the barn to the porch of my home, before the feed was destroyed.

"I was nowhere in the scene...only some of my Hellion members. None of my family was their either. So when it was time for me to give my accounts of the happenings at the farm, I simply pointed out the facts that were already available to anyone who saw the recording. Some of my men were asked to testify, and they all corroborated my story of having been injured in a clash with Mochor, and at having been upstairs in my home recuperating at the time of the attack! Only the scouts that could be seen on the video were permitted to testify...a clever tactic on my part, I thought...and none of them knew of our gift of aid to 'Shartae'. Their only relative input was that the man on the recording had fought alongside the other humans in defense of them and the home. No allegiances could be seen, or proven. The men appeared to be fighting for their lives...as well they were.

"I explained that I often had dealings with humans, due to my business ventures, and I couldn't possibly be expected to know everything about everyone who purchased my produce...or their bodyguards.

"The second vid-feed was from the scout ship that attacked us in the underground tunnel. It showed Roelantish, you, Ron, Neidar, and me fighting together against the attacking soldiers from Treage's command.

"I told the Council that I had hired Roelantish to see my family to safety, and that it had cost me dearly because the mountain man knew he would be in grave danger from Treage's reprisal. I said you were partnered with him and that he had vouched for your loyalty to the endeavor.

"Treage nearly exploded with rage and leaped up screaming, 'That is Kaskle Dangarth...right there!'

"I countered with, 'Who? That man? How can you possibly know that?'

"Treage ranted on; 'I know because I have owned him! I know because I have watched him in the arena using the name of Shartae!'

"'Kaskle?' I asked, goading the fool. 'Are you mad? Anytime there is a human with any decent warrior's skill, you try to create a way to make up for your total failure concerning that dragen slave you lost.'

"Treage looked like he was about to burst into flames, he was so mad.

"'And as far as the fighting slave, Shartae, I have to question your sanity yet again.

"You see the big fellow next to him?' I pointed out to the Council. 'That is the bounty hunter who delivered the real, 'Shartae', to my Hellions. I have worked with him many times over the cycles. Now, do you really think they would be teamed up, back to back, if the little one there was the flarge thrown into Huinrag's dungeon?"

"Treage could do nothing but stand there quivering with rage.

"Well, that was good enough for the Council, who immediately reinstated me with complete exoneration and a written apology going into my personal record.

"Treage nearly exploded with anger!" the Reaper said with a delighted chuckle. "He fumed and demanded they reconsider."

The group of listeners was all leaning forward as Karne spoke, waiting for the conclusion of the harrowing tale, and Karne took a long moment to tease them.

"Well?" Ron finally spouted.

"The Council didn't get the chance to formally denounce Treage because Father leapt from his chair and drew blades on him...right there in the court!" Larson interjected with pride.

Karne merely smiled his hideous Kreete smile, recalling the satisfaction of seeing that blowhard cower. "Treage seethed with anger and jealousy before withdrawing his charge and storming from the proceedings."

With that bit of business out of the way, Karne and his son were allowed to take a shuttle to return to their duties. While they were skimming over the Greishere Plateau, still trying to figure out a way to slow the Kreete's retaliatory campaign, a strange sight on the ground drew their attention.

That's when Karne spotted a lone chariot racing across the highlands, pursued by three ceatarys that seemed intent on an easy meal. Investigation of that sight led him to realize that it was humans in that conveyance...which caused him to be even more intrigued since it was a death penalty violation of the Kreete law which forbid humans to travel as such.

Upon his closer inspection, it turned out to be Jarle and Lilea on their way to the Yetsole Valley to find Crogan, to inform him of the beginning of the war. Karne picked them up and brought them to the rebel force, fifty hoz west of Mardesh, where that army was encamped. He hurriedly left Crogan's group and commandeered one of the gigantic transport craft that was scheduled to send a detachment of Kreete soldiers to destroy that very army.

He dropped those troops off in a remote location of the wilds with orders to proceed south for five hoz to rendezvous with the enemy...an enemy that was a hundred hoz to the east.

After the destruction of Mardesh, Karne used the huge ship to carry nearly all of Crogan's remaining army to Huinrag. He'd been following the battle there by means of the Com, and knew exactly what was then facing the rebels. His was the second transport Ron saw drifting by overhead, before his duel with Treage.

Karne also coordinated with several of his Kreete collaborators to have them pick up the 'interceptors' and join him in defending the humans, and subsequently Ron in the _Darlile_.

"Well," Ron told them all with no hesitation, "your timing couldn't have been better! I'm eternally in your debt!"

The rebel leaders agreed whole-heartedly, and were all extremely grateful to that small band of Kreete warriors, extending them every courtesy they could offer.

After that story was concluded, the group separated to rejoin their particular friends and kinsmen, or to retire for the night, but Karne stopped Ron and Josy for a private chat.

"Josy," the gargantuan soldier asked. "Is there word about your mother and brother? Are they safe?"

Josy's fleeting glance at Ron told him that something was amiss, so he pressed her. "Out with it, Baby-girl!"

Josy faced Karne firmly, with Ron stoutly at her side, and explained to her father exactly what had occurred out by the river...and then up at the mountain. Karne stood completely motionless as he took in every word of her story...and then his right hand flashed up to his personal arsenal and came down with one of his huge battle-axes. He released it with a tremendous groaning grunt, straight at a broad tree off to the side, ten peors away. The blade of that massive weapon sunk all the way to the handle...ten inches into the hardwood trunk of that wooden monolith. He then hung his head for a few moments.

"Why, Father?" Josy asked after a bit...new tears sliding down her cheeks. "Why did he do it?"

The sullen Reaper simply shook his head. "I do not know, Josy. Perhaps his training was too deeply ingrained to allow him to betray his people. Perhaps he was offered a reward that he could not pass up...a promotion, or position of great importance. Perhaps your plans were discovered by our superiors and he was forced to betray the humans to try and save you and your mother. We will never know."

She went to her father then and they held each other for a long while...until a jubilant group rushed up to Ron in raucous fashion and urged him to make the rounds to each of the bands for toasting and more merriment. He felt he could hardly turn them down, so he moved off to oblige them.

Karne separated from his little girl then and urged her away with a gruesome, Kreete smile, confirming to her that he was going to be fine. He watched affectionately as Ron was being escorted along by his euphoric entourage, Josy glued to him at all times, and he missed Mishea very much.

That festive circuit ended up dragging on very late, until, during one point in that celebratory enthusiasm, someone slapped Ron on the shoulder hard...a typical show of man to man affection with no malicious intent. His face winced harshly though, reminding the heavenly brunette at his side that even this living legend of a man could be injured. She gave him a strong tug to separate him from the gruff crowd and placed herself firmly in his path, calling his attention away from his fellows and down to her.

"It is time to take care of this, my love!" she told him with one hand lightly on his swollen arm.

By that point, Ron didn't mind leaving the men to their festivities, as his constant praise and near deity status had grown so much as to become quite bothersome. He never was one with much of a mind to being called "hero" anyway.

"I am at your disposal, M-lady," he said as he followed Josy without further delay.

She hauled him away to the one place she knew he couldn't be bothered further...into the black super-ship and immediately to the rear cabin area where the living quarters were located.

They didn't see her, but assumed Cache was there as well, having retired earlier and already fast asleep, exhausted from the miraculous day's long and trying ordeal. She'd missed much of the celebration in order to restore some of the _Darlile_ 's key systems while helping Ketlical and his staff fine-tune the planetary shield's matrices.

Ron guessed she was sealed off in her private stateroom, secure, safe, and finally relaxed since the ship was completely inaccessible to anyone other than her and Ron.

Josy guided Ron immediately to the "common room", which was equipped with a sanitizer, a food dispenser, and a med-station that expanded out into it and had every up-to-date convenience Rauld had to offer.

She stripped him of his tattered and bloodied clothes and pushed him into a sanitizer unit that removed all the grime, crud, and dried blood that had collected on him over the past several days. She had to fight him off a bit too, from being pulled into that tight little shower with him. It had been a long while apart for the two lovers and he wanted that drought to end.

"Later, darling," she told him alluringly. "First, let me get you patched up!"

"I'm plenty healthy enough for that!"

"Oh, I know you are! But just wait a little longer."

A half billot later, after a nice, refreshing, hot shower, Josylinia first encased his arm securely in a regenerator wrap, and then went about carefully checking each of his more serious wounds for signs of further injury. The forces of that aerial battle being as severe as they were could have easily aggravated some of his deeper wounds, and she wanted him back fully whole as quickly as possible. She pumped him full of Raulden medicines and then finished up by replacing all his stitches with surgical adhesive and spraying synthaskin on every one of his injuries to seal out any chance of infection.

When she was satisfied that he was out of any danger from battle damage, she began to focus on more personal matters. A billot later, after a long, extraordinarily erotic massage, Josy eventually fulfilled her earlier promise.

After Ron's nearly insatiable needs had been satisfied, he lay back and watched her incredibly sensuous, nude figure work its way along his body. She delicately caressed and kissed his hundreds of bruises, cuts, scrapes, and every other type of wound there was. As her long raven hair draped and tickled against his skin, he sighed with almost delirious delight.

During her gentle tending he couldn't help but wonder at what fortune he'd been granted to deliver this unbelievable woman to him, and couldn't for the life of him have imagined that such an individual could even exist. She was pure love, pure grace, pure beauty, and pure desire all rolled into one.

Needless to say, Ron slept like the dead, with Josylinia cuddled up tightly beside him and his bedchamber absolutely soundproof. When he at last awakened, at dusk two days later...his arm was as good as new.

### Chapter Thirty-seven

### Cleanup

At dawn of the third day following the activation of the protective shield around Caron, the armies began gathering for a massive meeting. The fallen men were at last all taken care of and the dead Kreete had been hauled away to a mass grave out on the Greishere Highlands where a deep crevasse split the desolate, baking land. Karne didn't ask about what became of them, and did not want to know...nor did any others from his group. They had died in battle and that was all the details of their passing they cared about.

The grassland that served as the final battlefield had been washed clean by a powerful rainstorm sweeping through the area during the night, and was serene once more. Just after midday, fifty of the leaders of the rebel forces stood atop the once mighty wall that formerly guarded Huinrag.

The "call to arms" that had gone out over the preceding weeks had continued to draw vast numbers of recruits, they not realizing they'd already missed the fiercest skirmishes, and so the army was much replenished. The constant influx of those men swelled its ranks once again to well over seven thousand. Those men now stood crowded against that scarred and broken barrier of stone and mortar.

Crogan Sevraign was voted the spokesman of the combined army and stood there surveying the crowd for a long while. Finally, when all the faces seemed to be turned his way, he put up his hands to silence the throng, and the meeting got underway.

"Warriors of Caron!" he bellowed in his deep, far reaching voice. "We have much to take pride in this day! We stand liberated from our self-imposed masters in two provinces, due to the grace of the Guardian and by the sacrifice of so many of our brothers and sisters. But we must put further celebration of that glorious achievement aside one more time...at least for a short while. There is one last matter that must be taken care of before we disband this remarkable gathering of so many of our fellow patriots...and that is the Kreete!

"Now I am not speaking of those we have vanquished here on this very ground, of course...I speak of the dozens of outposts and clusters of their ranks across Caron. We must route them out of our lands! We must extinguish their vile rule from our lives for good!"

The crowd of men and women all cheered long and loud at that.

"Will you all stay together until this is done?"

The vast multitude roared, "YES!" along with the usual whistling, cheering, and vulgarities directed at the enemy.

"Excellent! We shall start immediately!"

The leaders of the army's various clansmen and geographically diverse factions met for the entire afternoon, making lists of known pockets of the contemptible Kreete troops. Over the course of the evening, they each passed along their decisions to the armies they represented and recruited volunteers who would not fear flying in the Kreete's transport ship.

The next day, with the constant threat of total annihilation gone, the way was clear for their objective of destroying the Kreete's domination of the planet. Six thousand soldiers packed into the giant ship, and off they flew to the east...to the furthest reaching posts of their hated enemy...an outpost on the fringe of the known habitable world.

At this station, an entire Siege of Kreete troops held their fort-like compound under constant guard, as if they were at war. Their commander and his entourage opened the massive gate and strode out swiftly to the landing transport, their anxieties high and their heads swiveling quickly as they scanned the area. They were expecting to greet their fellow soldiers and finally get some news about what was going on concerning the lack of communication and loss of their satellite connections. The shuttlecraft they had assigned to them wouldn't fly without constant, "manual" inputs, and even with that, they had no way of knowing exactly where they were, due to the malfunctions of their scanning capabilities.

When the numerous doors of the huge transport craft finally slid aside and the thousands of angry men poured out, those mighty tattooed warriors blanched...and then ran for the high walls of their garrison. At that time, the _Darlile_ swept in and obliterated those massive gates, leaving the city open for the advancing Caronians.

Ron had no problem using superior weapons against the Kreete...after all, that's how they'd gained control of the planet in the first place.

"Why not simply destroy the city with your ship?" many of the leaders had questioned, not seeing the need to endanger their men further.

"Cache scanned the interior of that outpost a billot ago. There are over twelve hundred Caronians in there, doing every menial task the 'Lords' don't wish to do themselves, plus acting as their entertainment and a dozen different other demands. We can't simply execute them all. Surely that's not what you want?"

"No...no, of course not. I...that is...we hadn't considered that."

Now, as they stormed the stronghold of Bortyyne, Ron called to Cache on his com-link.

"Take out those turrets on the wall!"

"I will do you one better!" she replied as the well-positioned guard stations were obliterated. She hit the corners of the section of wall Ron was rapidly approaching, and then sent a quick set of shots to undercut that huge, stone barrier. A few litas later, the entire segment of wall fell forward like a gigantic drawbridge, a hundred peors wide.

That ignited an enormous cry from the attacking Caronians...and thoroughly disrupted the poise and precision of the Kreete. The men overwhelmed the fort in less than three and a half billots, and brought an end to the enemy control in that outland base.

The natives raided the caches of food and supplies from their former masters, celebrated all day, and slept well that night in the newly liberated city. Those folks that had previously been doomed to lives of servitude were more than willing to treat the army as the heroes they were.

That type of raid was conducted over and over for the next santari...many times being a much more quick and easy routing since few of the Kreete posts were as elaborate as that facility. Often times the humans found the Kreete already under attack from the locals...the initiation of the shield sending them into immediate action. Crogan's new army lost less than twelve percent of their troops over that campaign and each of the leaders was jubilant about that fact.

The Darlile's aerial support prohibited the enemy's most devastating weapons to be utilized, so the men had tremendous advantages of weaponry.

From as far east as the Chartoo Province, to the edge of the Taerdrasseg Mountains, all Kreete soldiers who chose to fight to the death did exactly that. And once that sweep was completed, the rebel force moved to the western side of those snowcapped peaks, into the lands that Ron's "other half" had come from.

Ron had never seen that side on his trek down the mountains, when he first arrived on Caron, and now he felt a tremendous tug from his inner self. The climate there was much different from that of the eastern region, having more varied, temperate zones. The mountains went on out of sight to the west for over a thousand hoz, much lower in altitude than the deadly Safe Haven peaks, but they still maintained icy caps, even in the hot periods. There were deep, fertile, green valleys and magnificent rivers plunging through them with majestic and awesome waterfalls dotted across the rugged surface.

That terrain looked extremely rugged, and Ron could tell that those who could survive in this land spawned from a truly inspiring breed. Also, he finally understood why it was that even the Kreete hadn't been able to make many inroads into the area. Their great ships had few places they could land and their mighty armored soldiers simply couldn't navigate such terrain. Land vehicles were completely useless, and many areas were inaccessible even to horses.

The transport continued to the far edges of these dramatic foothills and into the realm Treage had once called his. Every prison camp, mining facility, gladiator camp, and female processing facility was liberated and destroyed. The people who'd once been the pawns of the Kreete were set free, just as their eastern brethren had been, and sent off to their homes. Many were even carried to those locales if they were in need of such help.

After another week, the Caronian countryside was completely devoid of Kreete life...just as it had been seventy-eight cycles in the past.

### Chapter Thirty-eight

### Get out!

The last stop the conjoined, Caronian army made...one every natural inhabitant of the planet had looked forward to for generations...occurred at the very edge of the Kreete occupied domain...Pigonta.

At the northern edge of the thick, wild, dangerous jungle that bordered the Kreete's sanctimonious realm was a wide buffer zone of open grassland. It wasn't just any meadow either, but a futuristic, genetically altered layer of thickly bladed turf that grew to the height of only one inch...and thusly never needed trimming.

Under that perfectly kept sod was a vast network of underground tubes spaced merely two feet apart and spanning the entire countryside, all the way to the shimmering gates of the main city, a hoz in the distance. Those tubes allowed millions of small, yet extremely lethal mines to move about without hindrance or visual clues to their locations, and could be repositioned at the whim of the controlling computer which maintained that security layer.

Every billot, the tiny bombs were moved about to thwart any attempt at circumventing their positioning, and they were also programmed to be attracted to any sensed vibrations of the ground. It was a completely impassable field...without the proper authorization. The Kreete could, of course clear themselves a path whenever they wished to come or go.

The shadow-ship that ruled the skies since its debut during the conflict streaked overhead while the transport landed just outside that minefield. Cache scanned the area first of course, finding an open space between the mine field and the woods large enough to accommodate them. It was there that the army disembarked.

The city-dwellers made a dozen attempts to investigate the gathering, all by Cnauts, but the _Darlile_ silenced each one with no equivocations, and so they finally relented to stay in the dark.

That great troop-carrying vessel made three more maximum weight landings over the next two days, depositing over sixteen thousand Caronians...each wishing to bear witness to the coming event.

When all was prepared, Ron had Cache patch into the communications systems of the Kreete city. The _Darlile_ 's own communication's array was not affected by the shield matrix, it being tied directly to the randomly alternating modulation of that device, so she had complete control.

Ron took center stage, with the other commanders at his sides, and introduced himself to the Kreete citizens.

"I am Ron Allison! Many of you probably know me as the beast-man familiar to the Kreete people by the name 'Shartae'. I was asked to address you all because of my notoriety, and thereby hoped you might believe we speak the truth.

"I don't know what you all have been told, or have guessed, about the goings-on outside your grand city, but we are here to set the story straight. The Caronians have destroyed your army, your outposts, your food supply lines, and...with some outside assistance...your ability to defend yourselves with energy weapons."

Ron wasted no time at all, and demanded a meeting with the Kreete planetary council. They were to come in one ship, with no escort, to the center of the city's protective minefield. From there they would walk to the meeting area.

That transmission was the only announcement that had been heard or relayed in over a santari, since the planetary shield activation, and was forcibly disseminated to every vid-screen and every computer monitor...and thusly seen by the entire population. (Cache was determined to make sure that the "Council" couldn't skew the facts of what was transpiring.)

In Pigonta, there was still electrical power and basic public services, but no radios, phones, or any over-the-airwaves types of devices operated. Aircraft were still functional but could not navigate electronically and therefore were restricted to visual flight only. That caveat severely limited their abilities, so reliant on technology had their species become. Also, no pilot wanted to be in the airspace of the _Darlile_ , so they stayed confined within the city's walls.

Cnauts that required external commands from info-distribution nodules were useless and so even the most common normality's of city life were disrupted. The inhabitants were astonished, confused, angry at their leaders, and scared. In light of those facts, Gotliig and the rest of the councilmen decided to accommodate the meeting.

Ron was impressed that their response was so prompt too, taking less than three billots.

While he watched their shuttle land in the appointed area, he braced himself...his inner warnings beginning to chime. He knew of course that they could not be trusted.

The Darlile hovered resoundingly overhead of the Caronians with her shields extended and her weapons hot. That was a fearsome display that could not be ignored.

Fifty-four of the rebel leaders stood by as the shuttle opened. They were inside the safety bubble of the black ship and clear of the estimated danger zone of the minefield's perimeter, just in case the "Lords" might try to detonate the minefield as a last-ditch stab at them. They were standing three men deep in a long row, vibrating with anxiousness.

As it turned out though, the Kreete made no overt or aggressive move. They merely headed to the meeting with as much dignity as they could still muster.

As the huge dignitaries approached the group, Crogan Sevraign...the unanimously appointed spokesman of the Caronians addressed them with Karne Gitove and Ron standing at his shoulder. They stood only a step in front of the other leaders and the vast Caronian army.

"Hold!" Crogan bellowed in a thundering order while the Kreete leaders were still two hundred feet away. "Disarm yourselves!"

"That is outrageous!" Gotliig replied with open anger. "No Kreete Lord disarms himself! He is expected to..."

"You will disarm yourselves now, or return to your ship!"

The Pigonta contingent turned immediately to leave.

"However..." Crogan added quickly, "if this meeting does not take place now, the black ship will destroy the city of Pigonta before nightfall! You all know the power of that spacecraft...and that it is capable of immense destruction, even under the influence of the energy matrix which prevents your own weapons from operating. This is a one-time offer!"

Gotliig and his comrades stopped, but hesitated to comply. Ron looked to the _Darlile_ that now hovered off to the side, above the minefield. Cache sat inside that lethal weapon and at a whisper from Ron, charged the forward cannon.

The static energy that instantly came to life was noticeable to all.

"Shall I destroy the main entrance to your beautiful city as a demonstration of our sincerity?" he asked.

Gotliig growled and cursed, but finally stripped himself of all of his deadly gear, ordering his men to do likewise. Then they approached once more.

"Stop!" Ron ordered again, listening to the sweet voice of Cache Kuar in his ear. "The Master Killer, second from the right...remove the dagger in your left boot! The Reaper in the back...the very aft fellow there...discard the grenade attached to your belt!"

Gotliig Pigonta turned on his allies in utter fury. "I said DISARM!" he roared, his claws shooting out as he threatened his men. Gotliig was a very fearsome individual, easily half a head taller than all the others, and well renowned for his fighting prowess. Even Karne respected him.

His entire family lived in Pigonta!

The Reaper hastily did as he was ordered and they approached again...this time, unheeded.

"Very well, traitor!" he spit at Karne when they were finally in position. "We are here! I should have listened to Treage...and killed you when I had the chance!"

Karne knew each of them well. "Yes, you should have," he acknowledged easily.

"You all know me," Karne then said to the group, "What your feelings toward me may be, matters not! You were brought here as witnesses only! This is 'not' a negotiation! And these proceedings are being broadcast throughout the city.

"I, along with some others of the Kreete military guard, who will remain anonymous in order to protect their families, have resigned our commissions to the Triad. We no longer hold to the philosophy of the Kreete ruling authority. We willingly exile ourselves to this planet from this day forward, or risk death should we ever choose to leave it. We shall build lives here, on Caron.

"As for the Kreete on this world," Crogan then said, "we hold no ill will toward you. Even though you have enslaved, murdered, raped, and violated us for the past three generations, we do not feel the desire to slaughter you. In fact, you are all free to leave the planet...but will never be allowed to return."

Granting them life was a hotly contested decision at the end of the war, but when all the discussions had run their course, the humans had had enough death...especially when Josy and her mother related that most of the city-dwellers were not the Kreete warriors, but human families just like theirs.

"The Rauldens will grant passage through the barrier they have established around this planet to as many transports as are needed to evacuate the city. Any ship coming back through, before the deadline, will be scanned for signs of deceit and destroyed if found. At the end of the deadline, Caron will be permanently sealed from the outside worlds, to all crafts except this one," indicating the _Darlile_.

"We have many who have built their lives here. They may not wish to leave," a Reaper from the Council, Graigo Porthan, interjected.

"Those who choose to stay will not be prosecuted, nor persecuted by the natives."

"What about some emergency...or catastrophe?" Gotliig queried, angered by the gall of these 'men' to dare cast judgment on the Kreete.

"Those who choose to stay will be on their own," Karne explained. "Now, along that thought...for anyone wanting to remain on Caron, the defenses that exist to protect them from predators, both beast and man, will remain intact. In addition, the Rauldens will add a second barrier to ensure they stay inside the perimeter...and that no craft exit said realm.

"If anyone wishes to leave the city, they are welcomed as well...in fact encouraged to do so. The intelligence and knowledge they possess would be a boon for the natives. However! If any Kreete citizens do join the inhabitants of the wilder lands, they will be allowed to take no technology...not even a chrono. No explosives will be allowed to be developed, as well as a list of other items that will be explained to all who apply.

"The people of Caron will return to their normal pace of development, aside from what has already been achieved. Medicine and doctors will be most valued, along with teachers, artists, and engineers."

"Those are our demands and our propositions!" Crogan concluded. "You have one santari to accomplish all we have laid out. Now go!"

"You cannot do this!" Gotliig growled, leaning toward Karne as if he would attack. "This is 'my' planet!"

Ron moved so swiftly that the great Kreete leader barely flinched before the tip of the ebony sword was resting against his throat. "Think again, slag! You have 'NO' claim here!"

"This is Caron!" Karne countered to his former commander. "This is their planet!" he concluded, sweeping his huge hand around to the thousands of on looking natives. "I only speak for them now because I am one of you. When this is done, I will be at 'their' mercy...living under 'their' rule! From this day forward, I am Caronian!"

Gotliig pulled back a bit and Ron sheathed his weapon.

"This is madness, Karne!" You could rule your own..."

"Madness? Madness you say? That is so absurd, it is laughable. What about Predoria...in the Sarstan solar system? The Triad slaughtered every person on that planet because we wanted their water...WATER! Was that worth the lives of an entire, peaceful civilization? Six hundred million people? On Gartelle it was their vacandin ore. How many lives were lost before we had stripped that world of all we needed...exposing the high-radiation bi-products of such mining before we abandoned the inhabitants with no ground that was not polluted to dangerous levels? I believe they all died there within five cycles...five cycles of tortuous sickness, famine, and plague! One-point-three billion people!

"What about Varnosa...the Kreete pleasure world where females of every planet are imprisoned to be our breeders? Forced to submit to populating a species that they abhor...and would rather die than sustain. Should I continue, Lord Gotliig? The list is long!

"You speak of madness! I would trade all of this 'advancement' for the right to live a free existence. For the right to speak my opinion without considering who is listening...to go when and where I pleased. For the simple right to have friends who can be trusted to support you, not slay you in your sleep for your position or rank.

"This planet is vast...and nearly unspoiled from the Triad's control. My family will flourish here...and when we are gone, so will be the mark of the Kreete!

"Now go!"

The Caronian Council slowly returned to the shuttle that brought them, and when it rose and headed back to the city, Cache landed the _Darlile_ and came out to join Ron and Karne.

The immense gathering was at and end, and the beginning of the next phase of Caronian development was beginning. Many tearful goodbyes began then, and as dawn awakened the land on the following morning, the transporter returned to its duty of carrying every soul to their desired location.

Ron and Cache weren't fools either. They knew this was the inauguration of a very difficult transition...back to self-governing, with all the usual squabbles over boundaries, resources, and such, but at least they had their home back...free from outside interference.

One sparkling glimmer of optimism was that they had all worked together for a long while before breaking up the army and returning to their homelands. Too, their numbers had been greatly diminished by the war, and so procreation and a reestablishment of livable standards and commerce would be the focus for a long while. Also, many tight bonds of friendship and admiration had been made, and such alliances often carry on for generations. There was great hope for the future.

When the ferrying was all done, Karne finally returned to the farm he'd built. The harvest had just been completed and his eyes moistened up heavily as he gazed at the point where his fine home once stood. The grounds were dotted by hundreds of tents, and campfires blazed all about as women prepared the evening meals. A skeleton of a huge barn stood where the old one had, and heavy granite blocks, chest high, outlined the walls of his home.

Crogan Sevraign walked up to the massive warrior and his son, Larson.

"We all decided that the rebuilding of Caron should begin here! We hope that is acceptable."

Karne Gitove dropped from his mounted seat to the ground without a word...the weight of his colossal figure forcing a noticeable vibration in the ground. He swept his silver eyes once more across the fields...and then he slipped to one knee at Crogan's feet. Larson copied his father's motion without pause.

"We are much obliged," Karne said as softly and gently as he could manage.

Crogan slapped him hard on the shoulder with a great "Hah!"

"Rise, Karne Gitove. Let us be friends from this day on...and work together for our people."

The mighty soldiers stood again and they all went to dinner. There was much planning to do for the future.

### Chapter Thirty-nine

### The Truth Comes Out

By the end of the established deadline, the city of Pigonta was nearly vacant. Of the roughly five hundred thousand inhabitants, eighty percent had left Caron and over two thousand had chosen to abandon the city for the wilds of the frontier (after being thoroughly vetted by Cache for any type of military, or aggressor, connection). The remaining citizens were busy trying to rebuild their social structure under the new guidelines.

They still had their usual...and necessary...technological abilities of food production, sanitation, water purification, electricity, and even ground transportation inside the walled confines of the city...so with the small number of individuals remaining, there were plenty of resources to go around.

Raulden sensor bots had established an impassable energy grid around the city to stop any unauthorized air travel, but another perimeter system allowed the citizens of Pigonta to wander the beautiful terrain within a hundred hoz of its borders...however, only to the north, away from any contact with the Caronians.

So began the lives of those left behind...or rather, those most like their ancient Raulden ancestors...finally free, and saved from the depravity of their race.

When the trip to the Aredanz Mountains was made to deliver the Piercellione back to their beloved hills, Ron was invited to stay, to rejoin his brethren in their home of exquisitely beautiful, natural splendor. He and Josy spent a week in those ruggedly majestic mountains, with Cache accompanying them at the request of the Elders...to pay homage to her and her people for their incredible aid in freeing Caron.

They all met Kaskle's extensive family, and finally confirmed for all that Ron was not Kaskle...but many still could not fully believe he was gone...that somehow...somewhere...he lived on. Ron didn't even try to explain what all had happened to their kinsman...feeling it was better left a mystery...to give them a pleasant bit of intangible hope. They tried to learn where it was Ron hailed from, but he merely said he came from a place extremely far away...a place that had seen the destruction of war take all he'd ever known away from him. That tight-knit, family-oriented group of souls grieved with him, and graciously offered their clan as his.

Terista and Chane played the parts of their liaisons and guides. They showed them a wonderful time, as well as some unbelievably gorgeous waterfalls and breathtaking landscapes, trying to entice Ron to remain among them, but he politely declined. There was much work still to be done in the other lands, although he left the future open to such an offer, which they heartily accepted.

When Ron flew away from those simple natives, he felt a very strong urge to return there one day...as if his life would not be complete until he once again found his way home to those fantastic lands.

A week later:

"Ron, would you sit in the pilot's seat and monitor the systems as I call them out?" Cache asked when Ron came out for a visit.

"Sure, Cache, no problem. How're the repairs coming?"

"A bit slowly, I am afraid. With me dividing my time between here, Safe Haven, and Rauld, I have not been able to get 'anything' finished."

It was late in the evening at the buonta-bean farm, well past dark, and it had been a very exhausting day of working on the reconstruction project, so Ron was happy to sit for a while and relax. Cache waddled toward the middle section of the _Darlile_ where most of the inner workings were located, and began calling out different items. The extremely advanced spacecraft she'd designed and built herself was in serious need for some tender loving care...and an overhaul...but time had not been allotted for such things until recently, and now, she had to shake her head at the widespread damage to her mechanical baby.

The onboard diagnostics computer was still being reconstructed due to a complete burnout, and so couldn't be utilized in her goal, so Cache was running through each circuit manually, one by one. She checked the power transfers, noting each burned out unit or scorched contact, and verbally relayed that to the Mechnauts, who compiled lists and worked away ceaselessly...strictly confined to the inner spaces of the _Darlile_. She had pledged that no technology would pass beyond the ship so as not to contaminate the populace. Caron would have to evolve at a more natural pace.

For over two billots Ron scanned the wide instrument console and the view screen, matching up each system with the proper corroborating indication. The tedium of the job was pressing on his patience, as well as his mind, so he started poking around with different screens to break the boredom. That's when he saw an interesting feature he hadn't noticed before.

"Induction buffers?" Cache called...her knack for this droll, monotonous, mind numbing precision seemingly endless.

"Check!" Ron replied.

He touched a point on the screen marked 'REPLAY', wondering what might be stored in there. A long list of items was displayed to the very far right of the wide viewer, and when he scrolled swiftly through that list he understood that it was a log. The list denoted events from the earliest tests of the _Darlile_ 's flight simulations to the most recent trip he'd taken to this very point.

"Huh?" Ron grunted, instantly curious about this whole classification. "Replay what exactly?"

"Induction sequencers?"

"Check!"

Ron toggled down to the end, but now his eyes slipped up the list from the bottom, past 'Caron: Battle: Advanced fighters', to 'Trip to Caron: Standby: Caronian star'. He remembered those long days well...the tension and the boredom, as he'd waited for the opportunity to slip behind a cargo ship and approach the planet.

He scanned upward further until an item caught his eye, and put weight on his heart...and his conscience. 'Space journey: Earth: Solar system: Sol'.

By then, Cache was just around the backside of the cockpit's entrance, and peeked in on him, her heart vibrating with uncertainty and hesitation. She rubbed her distended midsection lovingly and began what she'd rehearsed a thousand times.

"Ron."

"Yeah," he replied as he dropped down one row on the list to 'Earth: Planet Analysis: (D): (A).'

"I have been wanting to tell you something for a long while now, but the time was never right."

"Oh...about what?"

"It is concerning Jorin and me."

"You don't have to explain anything, Cache," Ron said as softly as he could, his gut still twisting anytime his mind would settle on that subject. Once more he felt a fresh twinge of jealousy he knew he had no right to feel. "He was a fine man, and I truly mourned his loss."

The first night Josy spent with Ron in the _Darlile_ , when they thought Cache was in her room, she was actually at Jorin Graive's bedside...watching him die. He'd been badly wounded while trying to escape the water after having set the barges aflame, and he passed on in her arms...looking into the sparkling violet diamonds of Cache's tear-filled eyes.

"Yes...he was...and I do too, but you see..."

The words got jumbled in her mind...so nervous was she...so she continued her work.

"Primary plasma conduits."

Ron pulled his attention back to the task.

"Showing some poor readings from junction sixteen to nineteen, and twenty-three to twenty-five."

Cache took a moment to make sure the information was recorded by the maintenance team, and Ron's focus went back to the list, his finger tapping the screen at the point where the (D) showed. The word 'DISPLAYED' lit up.

He'd been thinking of Earth off and on since his visit to the Aredanz...the feeling of homesickness still swirling about in his mind...so he gave the screen a light thump of a finger. Instantly the viewer showed the planet he was born on...and the unspeakable devastation that had been wrought there. The war on Caron had claimed nearly a quarter of all the adult men...but on his home planet it claimed the lives of everyone he'd ever known prior to the "transformation" the Rauldens initiated upon him. His stomach knotted again as deep feelings of sorrow surged through him...sorrow, and loss, and anger, and confusion.

"Secondary plasma conduits."

He then forced himself to tear his attention from that horrible sight and concentrate on his job.

"Uh...that one is burned out at junction number four...a total failure."

"Got it!" Cache noted...and then a moment later... "Ron, the relationship I had with Jorin was not exactly what you think."

"What?" he asked absentmindedly, his attention returning to the list where the entire heading was not lighted, but rather just the (D). "What do you mean?"

He reached over and touched the "A", and it expanded to read "ACTUAL". Now that really intrigued and puzzled him.

"Our relationship...Jorin and me...was not like yours and mine, Ron."

He was no longer listening...his intuition was starting a spark of renewed curiosity, drawing his focus like the gravity-well pulled at the _Darlile_.

"I was never 'with' him...like I was with you."

Ron pressed his finger to the word ACTUAL.

"I did not know how to tell you, darling, but the truth is...this child I carry...she is yours, my love. I shall bear 'our' baby in the next santari."

"What the hell?" Ron uttered...half out of anger and the other out of sheer, mind-blowing surprise.

Cache recoiled at his tone, hesitating a moment, still hidden from his view by the bulkhead and suddenly a bit frightened. She heard some rapid thumping for a few litas, and then a long pause. Her mind raced with apprehensive thoughts that spun and surged, each revolving around a single point..."How will I get him to trust me again?"

When no further sound could be heard, she peered around the doorframe shyly. Ron was there, sitting at the console and staring at a beautiful scene. It was a picture-perfect, sunny day with only two puffy clouds off in the distance...they contrasting with the blue of the sky in a cheery, carefree way. Landward yielded the view of a small town floating by underneath as the _Darlile_ glided slowly over it. Directly below them was a two lane roadway, and cars were skidding to a stop and crashing into each other, or into the deep ditch filled with green algae-covered water. She immediately understood that he was focused on that screen, and not on what she'd told him, and that conclusion allowed her to regain her controlled demeanor.

She then stared at the view more intently too, as was Ron, because she didn't recall the locale at all. She'd never seen that place and immediately wondered where it could possibly be. As far as she knew, she had been everywhere the _Darlile_ had flown...except the flight from Rauld to Caron...but as far as she remembered, he hadn't visited any other worlds. Her own inquisitiveness urged her forward and so she slowly walked up to stand at his shoulder.

"Where is that from?" she queried.

She received no reply from the man at her side...a man who was now a statue of unblinking, unresponsive focus. The ship continued down the road for a few moments before it turned in a hover and stopped fifty feet above the trees. Below now was a precisely laid out subdivision of homes, and one of them was just beneath the _Darlile_. People down there in that quiet little community were running this way and that...some curious and some terrified.

The ship stayed there, motionless for a long while, as if waiting...and she wondered why.

Cache then flicked her eyes to the side of the screen, searching out the file Ron was accessing. She read the title and it sent her mind buzzing. That was not the Earth she and Ron had visited, and when her eyes settled on the words, 'DISPLAYED: ACTUAL', her heart froze instantly.

"Oh no!" she released in a desperate, hushed, and horrified tone.

Ron toggled the viewer control to show the scene directly under the ship, it suddenly jumping up to the center third of the wide view screen. A woman stepped out of the house the _Darlile_ was perched over and followed the transfixed gaze of the crowd. When her eyes found the object of everyone's focus she stumbled backward a few steps and dropped to the ground, her face filled with fear and astonishment.

Ron's index finger instinctually went to the "zoom" function and brought the image instantly close enough to fill the screen.

The woman's hand went to her heaving breasts as she stared upward. She was young, stunningly beautiful, with shoulder length, curly, chestnut hair and hazel-green eyes. Her powder blue sundress wrapped and displayed her gorgeous figure well, and her lightly tanned legs were splayed to the sides from beneath the edge of her short skirt...her sandals lost in her frightened tumble.

Ron zoomed even further, until the screen could only hold her torso.

The color of her nails matched her lipstick perfectly and a diamond encrusted gold band glittered brightly on the ring finger of her left hand.

"Angie?" Ron asked.

Look for the continuing adventures of Ron Allison and Cache Kuar in:

### 'The Journey Home'

