The lieutenant lowered the muzzle of the gun. He barked an order to the men with him, who arranged themselves with their backs to the wall. The officer moved toward the fire, where he settled himself in a chair. "You," he said. "Take off my boots!" He was speaking to Zen. Kurt measured the distance to the lieutenant's jaw. Out of the corners of his eyes, he noted the positions of the Asian soldiers. "Odds are too great," he thought. "Stay alive now. Maybe your turn will come." As he started to kneel, he bumped into Nedra, who was already on the floor unbuckling the officer's boots. "If you would rather do it, I would rather have you do it," the lieutenant said, smirking. "It is a privilege, sir," the girl said. She pulled off the heavy boot and began to peel off the thick sock. The probability that she had saved Kurt Zen's life was very great. He felt a surge of anger at his own helplessness. The feeling of cold at the marrow of his bones was appearing again. It was stronger now. He noticed that Cal's hands were trembling. The teeth of one of the soldiers standing against the wall were chattering audibly. A second soldier looked as if he were about to go to sleep. Zen discovered as he yawned that he was getting sleepy too. Along with the cold creeping outward from his bones was a sensation of mental fogginess that was very close to sleep. The lieutenant, sitting directly in front of him, was nodding. Everybody was getting sleepy! Why? Had some subtle, odorless gas been introduced into the room? What gas? Who had introduced it? _Crash!_ The rifle in the hands of the nodding soldier slid out of his grasp and struck the floor, exploding as it hit. The slug ripped a hole through the wall, passing within a foot of the lieutenant's head. The Asian officer was instantly on his feet. He spun to face the sound. The soldier who had dropped the rifle slid forward on the floor and lay there, snoring. As he saw what had happened, the face of the lieutenant settled into a grim mask. He pressed the trigger of the automatic weapon he carried. The gun burped violently. The sleeping soldier jerked as the heavy slugs crashed into his body. A little trickle of blood ran from his nose and collected in a small pool on the floor. The man died where he lay. "_Yen thotem ke vos!_" the lieutenant snarled. Two of the soldiers left their position against the wall and lifted the body of their dead comrade. The third remained motionless against the wall while they carried the dead man out. "If you go to sleep on me!" the lieutenant said, to the third soldier. His meaning was clear. The soldier shook his head. He understood what his officer meant. Terror was in him. But something else was in him too. Zen watched the soldier fight this something else. Slowly, he let the butt of his rifle slide to the floor. He had enough intelligence and enough strength left not to drop the weapon. He set it against the wall. Then he sat down beside it.