Before the smoke cleared, Blade dashed across the bullet-pocked snow and scrambled up onto the black rock. The best cover he could find there was less than two feet high, but that should gain him still more time. When the Targans got close enough to see him against the rock, they'd be within easy range.

Now the troop carrier was lifting out from the camp. It hugged the ground all the way to the foot of Mount Grolin, then landed about half a mile from Blade. He strained his eyes, trying to count the men climbing out and forming a skirmish line. It was hard to be sure, but he thought there were only about a dozen. Were they leaving some to hold the camp, or-?

The carrier took off again. Instead of climbing it hovered low as the men on the ground began their advance up the mountainside. Now Blade could count them more accurately. Definitely fewer than a dozen, and where were the rest? Blade began to wonder what the Targans might be planning. His thoughts grew unpleasant as the carrier came closer and he saw the guns in its nose and side doors.

Now the men on the ground were only a quarter of a mile away-rifle range for someone who had plenty of ammunition. The Targans did. Blade didn't. He tried to hunch down even lower behind his cover, kept his eyes on the carrier, and wondered what was keeping Riyannah.

Then the carrier was climbing. It swept past Blade to the left, and he could see the door facing him crowded with helmeted heads. He could have hit it easily, but the number of guns sticking out of it kept him frozen in place. He realized what the Targans were up to.

They were going to hit him from both above and below. The men on the ground were already in position to shoot if he showed himself. Now the carrier was going to drop the others upslope from him. Then they'd work their way down the mountain until they could hit him from behind-and also hit the mouth of the cave.

Blade knew he had to move up to the cave now, when it would be just risky instead of suicidal. He had to last as long as possible, to keep all the Targans as far as possible from the cave. They'd certainly have weapons which could cripple the ship at close range.

As for his own chances of getting out of here, they hardly seemed worth considering. It looked like a question of how many Targans he was going to kill first and not much else.

Blade rose to a crouch and dashed upward, zigzagging wildly. Someone in the carrier spotted movement, and so did someone below. A laser beam from the carrier crackled down fifty yards to Blade's left, turning snow into steam. A rocket soared up from the men on the ground, sailed clean over Blade's head, and went off just above the mouth of the cave with a kwumpph and a cloud of green smoke. It hit close enough to the carrier to rock it. Blade could almost hear the curses as the men in the door struggled to keep from being pitched out on the rock below. The carrier's next laser beam went so wide Blade could barely see it.

Blade kept moving but felt a little better. If the Targans got nervous enough about hitting each other, it might slow them down a little more. Time, time, tame! Damn it, Riyannah, you don't have all day to get that ship moving!

As the carrier moved out of their line of fire, the men on the ground opened up with their rifles. Bullets and an occasional rocket hit all around the mouth of the cave. Someone down there must have realized Blade was heading for it. If Riyannah stuck her ship's nose out of the cave and straight into a rocket-

A high-pitched whine tore at Blade's ears, louder than the whine of the jets and far more painful. He clutched the rifle, although he wanted to drop it and clap his hands over his ears.

The ground shuddered. Chunks of rock and ice spewed out of the cave mouth like shot from the muzzle of a gigantic shotgun. The shockwave tore through the air and knocked Blade flat. He fell on top of the rifle and rolled to bring it back to firing position. As he did, Riyannah's spaceship swept out of the cave.

It looked like a fat silvery tadpole, fifty feet from nose to tail. A small canopy was perched on the nose and a hurd-ray projector stuck out of the belly. The projector swiveled, crimson fire sprayed the mountainside, and the soldiers below disappeared in smoke and steam. Their screams were loud enough to penetrate even Blade's half-deafened ears.

Then the ship was drifting toward him, the air shimmering blue around its tail, a hatch open in its belly. A metallic cord with a handgrip on the end unwound itself from the hatch and struck the ground yards from Blade. He dropped his rifle and lunged for it. He barely had time to take a firm grip before the ship rose again. For several long seconds he dangled in midair, bullets whistling past below him, feeling like the daring young man on the flying trapeze and hoping Riyannah would remember to reel him in.

Then the cord jerked up violently and Blade flew in through the hatch, slamming down on the floor hard enough to knock the wind out of him. The hatch clanged shut behind him and the floor tilted wildly. Blade went head over heels and crashed into a bulkhead. «Riyannah!» he shouted. «Get this crate under control or let me get to a seat! You're going to splatter me all over the place!»

If anything the ship climbed more steeply, but Blade heard an enormously refreshing sound-Riyannah's laughter. Then:

«All right. I'll level off, but hurry! The other two planes are coming after us!»

Blade practically leaped through the door in front of him. On the other side was a compartment about fifteen feet square and eight feet high. Padded seats took up most of the floor and control consoles most of the front end. Riyannah was perched on a high seat in the middle, head thrust up through the canopy and hands resting on a small black box suspended from the roof of the compartment. She was stark naked except for a silver G-string and sandals, her hair tossed wildly, and Blade could have sworn her green eyes were glowing. For a member of a peaceful race she looked astoundingly warlike, a silver-haired goddess of battle.

As Blade dropped into the nearest seat the ship lurched violently. Riyannah jumped and said something, probably unprintable, in the Kananite language. Several of the consoles glowed all the colors of the rainbow, and from aft Blade heard a noise like a toilet backing up.

Riyannah cursed again and pointed to a console with something like a radar screen over it and a face-covering helmet hung beside the screen. «Blade, take the hurd-ray. We've been hit and it's all I can do to control the ship!»

«How do you-?»

«Put on the helmet, turn on the screen, and look at it. When you're looking straight at the plane on the screen, a red light will go on. Push the button under the red light.»

Blade vaulted into the seat nearest the console and snatched up the helmet. The ship took another hit as he pulled it on, and the jolt nearly made him cut off an ear with the edge of the helmet. Then the ship swung in a tight circle, squashing Blade down into the seat. One of the Targan planes appeared on the screen. He stared at it, saw the light go on, and pushed the button.

The screen glowed crimson as the hurd-ray fired, then it was blotted out by smoke and flying wreckage as the plane exploded. Riyannah let out a banshee's scream and Blade's own roar of triumph echoed her.

Then Riyannah flung herself backward in her seat. Blade had just time to imitate her. Then acceleration flattened him into his seat until he thought his bones were going to collapse and let his flesh and internal organs spread like jam.

How long the acceleration lasted, Blade never found out. He only knew that it eventually came to an end. As he drifted back to full awareness he realized he was floating against the straps of his seat. The ship was clear of Targa and plunging out into space in free fall. The screen he'd used to aim the hurd-ray showed nothing but blackness and a few stars.