The marshal unclasped his breathing mask and slipped it aside, though the dense atmosphere of that place was barely sustainable to human life. The Korean did the same. "Commander Shin, I believe." Shannon's second was only mildly taken back by the use of his name and proper rank. "Bota." "MARSHAL Bota." "You didn't come all this way to tell me...(he struggled for breath)... how many men you stabbed in the back! What do you want?" "One would expect a cornered monkey to show more respect." "A cornered MAN has nothing to live for. Speak your piece and get out." "All right. I want the hostages. I want them now. Your civilian ships will be allowed. . .to whimper to Soviet Space. We won't stop them. It's your hides we're after." "You'll let them go, just like that. Is that why you destroyed ALL our ships? Is that why your ground equipment is lined up against us?" "Oh, yes. There is that. Well. We've had our little talk. Enjoy your moment of heroism. Lord knows. . .I'll enjoy ending it." He started to walk away, then turned. "Oh, about the hostages." Shin's glare was unchanging. "Cut off their heads, and throw them down into the mines. I'm going grind you to powder." * The Canton line advanced slowly from its distance of five kilometers, a visually odd procession of large flat vehicles, cat-tracked, with lightly armored ground troops hurrying behind, protected by the advancing shield wall of the Armadillos. Huge laser cannons projected from their slanting fronts, all trained upon the thick bar of shadow at the base of the oncoming ridge. Bota's machine led the subtle wedge, its magnetic-field disrupter already pulsing to try and weaken the Laurian's shields. Shin barked out his orders rapidly, for all the good it would do. He stood with several of the men before the instrument-laden vision panel, simultaneously listening to analysis of the enemy advance, searching for a non-existent weakness, and trying to exude some measure of confidence and calm---which wasn't easy with only four big guns of his own, and his power-shields unstable. His headset buzzed with two and three voices at once. THERE HAD BEEN NO TIME TO LAY ARMADILLO MINES! The civilians (those who would go) were huddled in groups of two- to five-hundred in the deepest recesses of the mines, along with the prisoners. He had no illusions about their safety. The rest, perhaps a thousand grim, forlorn men and women, stood resignedly behind them in the vast hollow that joined the three cave openings, bright arches that looked out on the light of day, watching a young officer try desperately to save them. And all the while Shin struggled to think what Shannon would do in his place, and what he would feel.