It began very much like the last time.

I woke from a dream. For a moment I was confused, wondering where I was. Kafka's crews had finished the lobby's remodeling a few days ago. My body now rested on a ramp, jutting up in the center of the space as high as the balconies, my head another full story above that. The walls of the building were triple-paned glass all around. I could see the Rox slumbering in a thick predawn fog. My land looked peaceful enough, and the mindvoices were mostly quiet, filled with their own dream images-though there were exceptions: Croyd pacing in his tower and trying to decide whether to try to sleep or not, Chickenhawk (who was supposed to be watching the city from his perch on the northern tower) sleeping and dreaming of dead Kien, a few couples making love or talking.

I looked down at the Temptation, set on the balcony in a blaze of lamps, and I wondered what had awakened me.

Then I felt it again-two dozen or more pricklings at my Wall. The probings came from all around me. The thoughts I sensed now at the edges of my inner hearing were frightening.

They'd learned. These weren't green park rangers and city cops. No-these were seasoned military troops, people with a horrifyingly simple sense of duty. People who followed orders blindly without worrying about what they meant. People who had been in combat before and would gladly hate anything their superiors named The Enemy.

"Oh shit," I muttered.

"Governor?" Kafka, slumbering nearby, woke. My guards looked suddenly wary.

"Just be quiet," I told them.

And I could hear it again: the rhythmic, insistent beat of blades chopping the air not too far away; the throbbing of powerful engines frothing the water of the bay.

They were coming.

The last time, I'd mucked up by alarming the Rox too quickly. I wasn't about to make that mistake again.

So I made another.

I tried to use this "power" that everyone says I have. I focused on my Wall. I imagined it stiffening, becoming rubbery and pushing back the intruding boats and choppers. I thought… I thought it was working at first. I felt this sense of "hardness" to the Wall, and the faint pricklings disappeared entirely. I clenched my fist: victory.

"Yes," I hissed.

I really thought I'd done it. I believed, for an instant, that it had been that simple.

Then they hit the Wall again-from every direction, at once, and fast. This was a concerted, simultaneous, organized assault. I summoned all the psychic strength I had. At least I hoped that's what I was doing. I tried to visualize energy gathering around me, flowing through my mind and then hurtling out to the Wall, but maybe it was just imagination or comic-book fantasy, because it didn't do any good.

The Wall bulged and cracked, making me moan. I mean, I could feel it. It fucking hurt. Then the Wall was lanced open entirely, like some great raw pus-filled boil. The troops (that's who it was-the goddamn U. S Army or National Guard or something) poured through while I lay there, gasping in pain.

Through. Coming. I could hear them. going in, yeah! Gonna drugdealers, murderers, C'mon, c'mon, kick some ass. Show them rapists, they all Come on! Damn it! wimp rangers how it's deserve this, deserve Get through this damn really done. This time what we're gonna give wall before they have we don't hold back 'em a chance to be ready

Actinic flaring blue light threw crazed, weaving shadows across the Rox and the Administration Building: flares. Out across the water I could see the bright legs of spotlights striding across the bay toward us. A chopper with flaring running lights wheeled past the glassed-in lobby like an angry bat, and I could see faces staring at us as it passed.

And I heard thoughts:

What the hell is that Jesus Christ in a is that Bloat? thing bottle!

Belatedly, the sirens were wailing over the Rox. Kafka was yelling below me. "Bloat! Can't you hold them back?"

"Uh-uh," I told him, slowly and wearily. It took a lot more effort to talk than I would have thought. "I can't. I'm tired." I sounded like a kid too late for bed. Carry me in, Daddy; I'm so sleepy.

A pair of choppers danced thunderously around the building, then banked away to land. Automatic gunfire crackled, sounding almost too thin to be real, except that I could hear the mindvoices wailing in panic and fear.

A wave of terror rang through the headvoices of the Rox. Then there were just too many thoughts and too much going on, and the images overwhelmed me, buried me.

Chaos. Just chaos. I don't remember much of it, only individual scenes plucked from the general carnage. Images piled one on top of another, experienced almost simultaneously…

… I could sense the ghost of Chrysalis haunting Elmo's dreams. There was an urgency to her voice as she stroked his cheek. "Get out!" she said, her voice at odds with her soft caress. "Get out!"

In Elmo's head, there was a sound like running footsteps. Under their impact, the dream walls of the Crystal Palace dissolved. Chrysalis disappeared, but I could feel him holding to that sweet dream touch.

Another ghost. Another memory.

Elmo must have opened his eyes, for he was thinking, Shit, are they here again? while a half-remembered sound of rotors echoed in his mind. Gotta get up! She said so!

Then I caught a brief stolen image of a gun butt arcing toward his face and then a fusillade of pain that cut out everything. The anguish was excruciating, instant, and blinding. Just before Elmo blacked out entirely, I heard him thinking, Jesus, they're going to fucking kill me.

… the noise of the helicopters had awakened Blaise, for I caught his thoughts spilling from the windshield. There was an image: the blue beam of a searchlight throwing crazed shadows on a wall. Erotic dream images mingled with shabby reality for a moment before his mindwalls came up and shut him away…

Croyd was jittery. Thoughts wheeled like bats in his head. Choppers went right by the tower, two of 'em, and more lights out in the bay coming in… this is crap, just crap… gotta move, gotta be goddamn careful… can't get caught here.

I followed Croyd's stream of thoughts down from his tower and into the building proper. He was near Elmo's room when the stream of consciousness suddenly halted. From what any of us had seen, Croyd's new body-he looked like an armadillo mated with a man-was fast and strong, as well as pretty well armored. His eyesight sucked, but his hearing was good; scent was even better.

Smell machine oil, sweat. Something else. Look around the corner; goddamn this lousy eyesight… That has to be Elmo… shit, those are troopers.

Through Croyd's ears, I could hear the distinct deadly clicking of a weapon being readied, and then Croyd-with a psychic yell that rang in my own head-charged them…

I could tell that the one named Danny was pissed because Ray wanted to waste time with the damn dwarf, but then, Ray was the squad leader, a by-God new sergeant… and it was Ray's call. just get it over with… this place gives me the creeps… fulla jokers and God knows what around that fucking blob in the lobby. Danny was listening to Ray laughing. He didn't really want to see the dwarf's head turn into strawberry jam. Just wanna get outta here…

Danny heard Ray's CAR-15 fire, but at the same time something like a big fast armadillo crashed into them-from the snatches of vision I caught, I knew it was Croyd. No!… shit, kill the damn thing… Danny was firing, and-a brief headflash-Ray was rolling on the ground grabbing at his throat,… shit, the joker crushed his windpipe… and Croyd was clawing at Jerry who screamed too, and Danny let go with a burst that tore into Jerry, and Jerry went down, no, no! and a ricochet hit Danny, Jesus, I'm hit! Fuck, it hurts, it hurts, and the armadillo had snatched up the dwarf and scooted down the hall, limping but alive…