Shran watched in wistful silence as his beloved took the hands of Vishri and Theras, closing the tight circle of four. The shelthrethnow complete, she projected her thoughts, quoting scripture that Shran attributed to an early liturgical codex of the Temple of Uzaveh.

“‘When you are Whole, as I am Whole,’ Uzaveh said, ‘then shall you return to my presence and assume your place at my side.’”

Lissan extended her arms above her head as though supplicating great Uzaveh Itself. “My friends, you are Whole. I now pronounce yourshelthreth complete in the sight of the law, the people, and the Throne of Life of Uzav–”

As Lissan inexplicably paused, a ripple of confusion passed through the crowd, like a collective thought being broadcast on some channel Shran was unable to access. But the interruption and the oddly tense body postures of so many people were more than enough to alert Shran that something was terribly wrong.

Shran heard a buzzing hum, and it took a moment for him to realize that he was hearing it with his ears rather than within the interior spaces of his mind. The sound seemed bizarre here, out of place, but his months‑long stay among the placid Aenar hadn’t so blunted his military instincts that he’d fail to recognize it.

Transporter beam,he thought as the sound of a materialization sequence ceased but for the confusing echoes it continued to cast across the length and breadth of the voluminous ice cavern. Concentrating hard to avoid being overwhelmed by the alarmed telepathic gabble swiftly rising around him, he turned quickly in a circle, seeking to locate the intruders.

A brilliant energy‑weapon discharge, as blue as heart‑blood, lanced the air nearby, betraying the location of at least one of the intruders. Acting on instinct, Shran dived to the icy ground to lower his profile as a target, seeking cover even as he reached into his heavy jacket in search of his sidearm.

Two more blasts sliced the chill air, filling it with the tang of ozone as he realized that he was unarmed. He felt utterly naked. This is thelast time I follow rules written by pacifists,he thought with a pungent curse, not wishing to dwell on what usually happened to pacifists whenever they encountered unscrupulous aggressors.

Jhamel!

“Shran!”She was crying out in panic inside his mind.

He rose to a crouch, searching for the shelthrethparty, but without any immediate success thanks to the confusion all around him. He struggled to ignore the collective terror that filled his mind, as well as the numerous inadvertent jostles and kicks that the fleeing crowd was inflicting on him.

Shran was soon relieved to find Jhamel not far from where she had originally stood, despite the sea of swiftly moving, agitated bodies that prevented him from reaching her quickly. Jhamel clung to the hands of two of her bondmates, Shenar and Vishri, both of whom seemed utterly paralyzed with terror. Shran noted that Theras had apparently vanished, and wondered if he had simply fled the side of his shelthrethpartners. Lissan had remained beside them, standing proudly, apparently trying to quell her people’s fears and direct an orderly exit of the cavern.

Before Shran could make his way through the panicked crowd toward Jhamel, a blast caught Lissan squarely in the chest, causing her to crumple to the ice like a rag doll. A hulking, rifle‑wielding form, bundled tightly in thermal gear, abruptly came into view and tossed a small metallic object onto Lissan’s insensate form.

She abruptly disappeared in a shower of ruddy sparkles.

The combined flashes of weapons and other transporter beams soon raised the light level across the cavern enough to enable Shran to see the partially exposed faces of the nearest attackers quite clearly. He recognized their distinctive jade‑green skin immediately.

There could be no mistaking their identity.

Orion slavers.

It was impossible at the moment to tell exactly how many intruders had entered the cavern, and Shran knew that discovering that bit of data was of overwhelming importance. But he also knew that obtaining a usable weapon was at least as vital at the moment.

More beams flashed in rapid succession. More Aenar bodies went down, then vanished in columns of light. Shran moved quickly, counting the assailants, calculating angles of fire and approach. There are eight of them,he thought as he circled behind one of the intruders, careful to crouch below a row of hoarfrosted stalagmites as he moved. No, nine.

Fighting off a feeling of vertiginous nausea brought on by his injured antenna, Shran leaped at his selected target, a ponderous giant who stood more than a head higher than the tallest Andorian soldier he had seen in all his time among the battle‑toughened troops of the Imperial Guard. He slammed hard into the alien’s thickly muscled back, wrapping his arms around his neck before the other man could react.

I suppose they weren’t expecting a welcome like this from a bunch of pacifists,Shran thought, grinning savagely. His slightly asymmetrical antennae lashed back and forth like angry serpents as he applied every iota of his strength to the task of squeezing the burly slaver’s throat.

But the Orion was hugely strong, his broad back and neck reminding Shran of ancient Andoria’s powerful cavalry mounts. While still holding his rifle by the strap, the Orion was trying to grab Shran’s arms, obviously in an attempt to throw the Andorian over his head. Shran knew that if his opponent managed that, the fight would be settled immediately in the Orion’s favor by the greenskin’s rifle.

Absurdly, Shran thought of something the Terran pinkskin Jonathan Archer had said to him once during an unguarded moment in the captain’s personal mess: “It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, Shran,” Archer had said while scratching the neck of his peculiar Earth pet. “It’s the size of the fight in the dog.”

The Orion turned in a circle, roaring like a wounded beast. Shran hung on, screaming out in a ululating Andorian battle cry. His nails sank into green flesh like pitons being driven hard into the unyielding ice of the northern wastes. Over the Orion’s shoulder he caught a brief glimpse of Jhamel, her face frozen in a rictus of horror as people fell to the slavers and continued to vanish all around her.

Shran tightened his grip, screamed another battle cry, and lowered his face to the Orion’s jugular. He sank his teeth into the sweaty, verdant flesh with a predator’s ferocity. Hot, dark ichor splattered him in steaming fire‑hose pulses. The Orion crashed to his knees, pulling Shran down just as energy beams lanced over both of their heads.

Then Shran was standing over the giant’s already cooling corpse, rifle in hand, steam from the slaver’s bloodied, slain form rising all around him. Ushaan‑Tor combat without the blades,he thought with grim humor.

Shran’s military training took over, and he found cover quickly, ducking behind an icy pillar. He began firing, guided to his targets by their muzzle flashes. Four Orions fell in fairly short order, and the remaining slavers seemed to be increasingly confused and panicked. Shran wasn’t certain just how many Aenar the slavers had succeeded in beaming away, but he could see that many had made it to the exits, thanks to his efforts.

Was Jhamel among them?

But there was nothing he could do to answer that question at the moment. All he could do was continue moving to new cover, finding his targets, and firing. Zhavey‑ less bastards!he thought as yet another slaver’s body crashed hard onto the ice before sledding roughly down a frost‑slicked incline and into one of the cavern walls.

Shran was beginning to notice that his targets were growing as scarce as the Aenar, almost all of whom had by now either fled or been captured. He caught another glimpse of Jhamel, who had bravely stayed behind, apparently intent on helping every last Aenar get to safety. Beside her was Theras, who evidently hadn’t fled or been captured after all.