They reached the cave, left a message outside, then closed the door and fused it shut with a hurd-ray blast. The message read:

Targans,

Study the films and see if we are telling the truth. If you think we are not giving you enough, say so. We will be happy to talk about giving you more.

But we will not come out until you are ready to talk, one way or another. If you try to break down the door, we will blow up this cave, along with all of your supplies, most of you, and ourselves. We are very tired of trying to be polite to people who do not understand that we all have only one enemy-Loyun Chard.

Richard Blade

Sar Riyannah

Riyannah signed the message, but she looked hard at Blade before she did so. «Would you really blow up this cave and everything in it?»

«Not really. There are ways we can keep ourselves out of the underground's hands without doing them real damage.»

«You're bluffing?»

«More or less. But they don't know it, and they can't afford to risk finding out the hard way.»

Inside the cave they pulled out mattresses and blankets, dropped them beside the piled gear, and settled down to wait. The cave was warm, heated by an underground hot spring, and Blade pulled off his tunic and shirt. Riyannah looked at him for a moment, then jumped up and disappeared around the pile of gear.

She was back in a moment with a small package wrapped in an exotic Kananite fabric with luminous embroidery. She placed it in Blade's lap.

«Should I open it now?» he asked.

«Yes. I'd meant to wait until we were taking off for the starship. But those people out there might be angry enough to break down the door. I want you to have it now, so-«She shrugged, and Blade mentally filled in the rest of the sentence, «-so you can be wearing it if we have to make our last fight here.»

Blade unwrapped the package. It held a bracelet of Kanan's woven metal, lighter than aluminum but stronger than steel, inlaid with patterns of dust-sized jewels. Across the top was a black band that seemed to absorb light. Blade put the bracelet on, then saw faint shapes begin to glow within the blackness. The glow brightened, the shapes flowed and shimmered, then they joined into one and Blade was looking at a full-length portrait of a nude Riyannah.

He raised his head, to see Riyannah lying on her mattress, head propped on one hand, as nude as her portrait. «In the black band are more jewels, arranged to make the picture of me. The heat of your body makes them glow.»

«Yes, and the heat of your body can make me glow.» Riyannah laughed, as Blade stood up and began slipping off his trousers.

The Targans came the next morning, when both Blade and Riyannah were still comfortably asleep in each other's arms. They woke up quickly enough when they learned that the Targans were ready to make peace and start planning.

There was still more talking, but no more nonsense. The leader Riyannah had hit with the chair attended, his head bandaged, but Blade's two victims didn't. Blade never saw either of them again and suspected it wouldn't be tactful to ask what happened to them.

In any case he and Riyannah were much too busy. First he had to retrieve the technical films as soon as the Targans were through copying them, then replace them on his thigh and cover them again with artificial skin. Then there were days of studying the plans of Dark Warrior, maps of enemy bases, lists of underground bands and their available weapons-a dozen different kinds of paper, piling higher each day. They talked with the underground's leaders, with various scientists, engineers, and spaceship pilots who'd fled from Chard's bases, and with a dozen men and women who'd led the underground's field teams in combat.

Then Blade and the team leaders picked fifty of the best fighters on hand, and the serious training for the attack on the starship began.

A steady drizzling rain was falling. Water dripped from the trees above as Blade crawled through bushes on his hands and knees. Riyannah was close behind, moving almost as silently as Blade.

They came to the end of the bushes. A few scattered trees lay ahead, then open country fading off into the rainy darkness. In that darkness a string of lights glowed a pale orange. They were the lights of Station Four, Blade's target and the first step on the way to the starship.

Still on their hands and knees, Blade and Riyannah reached the nearest tree. No sight or sound of any alarm, and visibility was getting steadily worse.

That wouldn't be all to the good. It would make the fighting in the station confused and risky, if the guards didn't go down at the first rush. It could also delay the reinforcements needed to move on to the next stage of the plan.

On the other hand, the rainy night would be perfect cover. The first attackers would certainly be hard to see and hear until it was too late. The sentries would be thinking mostly of the rain trickling down the backs of their necks and squelching in their boots. Even the best of Loyun Chard's soldiers didn't care for bad weather, and these sentries wouldn't be among the best. As far as Chard was concerned, the underground was on the run, too crippled to be a danger even to isolated shuttlecraft bases like Station Four. So why waste good men guarding it, far off in land that hadn't been settled since the Great War?

The rain would also make Blade's own job a good deal easier. Station Four had to be taken completely by surprise and captured before any messages could reach the outside world. There were two ways such messages could go out. One was by laser beam to a communications satellite high overhead, the other was by radio. The rain and overcast would make the laser virtually useless, so Blade now had only one target. If he could smash the radio station before anyone gave the alarm, Station Four would be unable to call for help or send out a warning.

Slowly Blade stood up. He was wearing Targan uniform, with a major's insignia. On his back was a conventional Targan field pack with unconventional contents. It held several charges of Kananite explosive, each the equivalent of more than half a ton of TNT. It also held a compact hurd-ray projector, small enough to fire with one hand but powerful enough to burn through several inches of steel.

Riyannah also stood up, unhooked a Targan helmet from her belt, and handed it to Blade. He put it on and tightened the chinstrap.

«How do I look?»

«You look enough like one of those piles of dung to make me shudder,» she said. She was wearing Targan uniform herself, with a sergeant's insignia. She might even pass for a Targan as long as the rain kept falling and the enemy's soldiers were too busy to look closely.

«Good,» said Blade. «That should get me inside, and there's half the battle. All I need to worry about on the way in is meeting some officer with more rank.» He gripped Riyannah by both shoulders and kissed her. «Don't let anyone get too close while I'm knocking out the lights. It's going to be chancy shooting even with the projector.»

«We'll be careful if you will,» she said. Then Blade turned and strode out from behind the tree toward the light of Station Four.

The plan for destroying the starship Dark Warrior was mostly Blade's creation. With the information the underground gave him, he was able to work out a much better one than they'd been able to do. The underground people were brave and intelligent, but they didn't have Blade's years of experience against opponents far tougher than the soldiers of Loyun Chard.

Several basic facts shaped the plan. First, Dark Warrior was so heavily escorted that she would have to be attacked by stealth. No suspicious ship could hope to get within ramming distance or even missile range. That ruled out the simplest and most ruthless form of attack-a straightforward kamikaze mission.