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up, and nothing to shoot. Let them settle down for just a moment, enough to prevent spinal-reflexive
fusilades, but not enough to think. . . .
Miles glanced around at his own space-armored troops, six in number, and closed his own helmet. Not
that numbers mattered. A million troops with nuclears, one guy with a club; either would suffice when the
target was one unarmed hostage. Miniaturizing the situation, Miles realized sadly, had made no qualitative
difference. He could still screw up just as big. The main difference was his plasma cannon, sighted down
the corridor. He nodded to Elena, manning the big weapon. Not normally an indoor toy, it would stop
charging space armor. And blow out the hull beyond. Miles figured that, theoretically, they could blow
away, oh, one out of Cavilo's five at this range, if they came on at a dead run, before all became
hand-to-hand, or glove-to-glove.
"Here we go," Miles warned through his command channel. "Re-member the drill." He pressed another
control; the blast doors between his group and Cavilo's began to draw back. Slowly, not suddenly, at a
rate carefully calculated to inspire dread without startling.
Pull broadcast on all channels plus loudspeaker. It was absolutely essential to Miles's plan that he get in
the first word.
"Cavilo!" he shouted. "Deactivate your weapons and freeze, or I'll blow Gregor to atoms!"
Body language was a wonderful thing. It was amazing, how much expression could come through the
blank shining surface of space armor. The littlest armored figure stood openhanded, stunned. Bereft of
words; bereft, for precious seconds, of reactions. Because, of course, Miles had just stolen her opening
line.Now what do you have to say for yourself, love? It was a desperate ploy. Miles had judged the
hostage-problem logically insoluble; therefore, clearly the only thing to do was make it Cavilo's problem
instead of his own.
Well, he'd obtained as much as thefreeze part, anyway. But he dared not let the standoff stand. "Drop it,
Cavilo! It only takes one nervous twitch to convert you from Imperial fiancee to no one of importance at
all. And then to no one at all. And you're making mereal tense."
"You said he was safe," Cavilo hissed to Gregor. "His meds must be further off-dose than I thought,"
Gregor replied, looking anxious. "No, watch he's bluffing. I'll prove it."
Hands held out open to his sides, Gregor walked straight toward the plasma cannon. Miles's jaw fell
open, behind his faceplate.Gregor, Gregor, Gregor . . . !
Gregor gazed steadily into Elena's faceplate. His step never quickened or faltered. He stopped only
when his chest touched the beaded tip of the cannon. It was an enormously dramatic and arresting
moment. Miles was so lost in appreciation, it took him that long to move his finger an imperceptible few
centimeters and hit the button on his control box that closed the blast doors.
The shield hadn't been programmed for slow-closure; it banged shut faster than the eye could follow.
Brief noises, from the other side, of plasma fire, shouts; Cavilo screaming at one of her men just in time to
stop him from the fatal error of firing a mine at the wall of a closed chamber he himself occupied. Then
silence.
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Miles dropped his plasma rifle, tore off his helmet. "God almighty, I wasn't expectingthat. Gregor, you're
a genius." Gently, Gregor raised a finger and moved the tip of the plasma cannon aside. "Don't worry,"
said Miles. "None of our weapons are charged. I didn't want to risk any accidents."
"I was almost certain that was the case," Gregor murmured. He stared back over his shoulder at the
blast doors. "What would you have done if I'd been asleep on my feet?" ,,.
"Kept talking. Tried for various compromises. I had a trick or two yet. But behind the other blast door,
there's a squad with live weapons. In the end, if she didn't bite, I was prepared to surrender."
"That's what I was afraid of."
Some peculiar muffled noises penetrated the blast doors. "Elena, take over," said Miles. "Mop up. Take
Cavilo alive if possible, but I don't want any Dendarii to die trying. Take no chances, trust nothing she
says."
"I have the picture." Elena waved a salute, and motioned to her squad, which broke up to insert
weapons-charges. Elena began to confer over the command-channel headset with the leader of the twin
squad waiting on Cavilo's other side and with the commander of theAriel's combat shuttle, closing in
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