All at once the Canton lasers began to fire. The temperature in the enclosure rose noticeably, and the walls began to tremble from the pushed-back force of the shields. The soprano thump of their own guns began to sound, as Shin fired his energy bursts in answer. They made a brave sight and sound, bright spheres whizzing through carefully timed openings in the shields, but seemed to have little effect on the grim machination set against them. Feeling the trap close in, Shin strode from one battle station to the next, snarling his commands like an animal. Sections of rock crashed down from the ceiling to the sound of screams and deep pocks. A great fissure rose along one wall, widening, and he began to wonder if he had not murdered these people after all. One of the Laurian gunners was struck by a falling stone, and he ran to take his place. As suddenly as it had begun, the Canton barrage ceased. The advancing machines stopped dead in their tracks. The Laurian shields, too, went down, and their guns would not fire. The clustered civilians, many locked in sheltering embraces, looked around and at each other. Medics ran to attend the wounded. Bewildered, Commander Shin moved out from the largest of the cave openings to examine his shield projectors. To left and right they were intact. WHAT HAD HAPPENED? He heard a soft roar as of a ship passing high overhead. He looked first at the halted Canton wedge, not trusting. They were little more than a kilometer away. The ground troops moved about in confusion as officers shouted, but the great Armadillos were silent and still. Tentatively at first, the scattered shapes and tension-drawn faces of his own soldiers, intermixed with the Laurian refugees, stepped out from the dividing line of shadow. He thought to order them back, but did not. He, too, felt his eyes drawn to skyward. Against the dark, greenish dome, cloudless, an orange flame descended from out of the pale fire of the sun. It was not a large ship..... Shin tried to discipline his hope. There could be no doubt. It was Shannon's ship. The weathered vessel landed between the two armies. Shin wanted to run to it wildly, with tears in his eyes. But a voice spoke inside him, saying simply: "Peace. Your master is dead." The hatch of Bota's machine had been opened, and now he clambered out, his face red with rage. "Shannon!" he shouted, as if his voice could penetrate steel. "Whatever trick this is, it won't work!" He barked an order to one of his lieutenants, who threw him a weapon and assembled one full company behind him. The marshal clambered down the vehicle's tracks and leapt to the ground. Collecting himself he strode forward, with half his men behind him. Shin looked on, puzzled, ordered his own people to stay back. As Bota drew to within fifty yards of the vessel, Simin opened the hatch. The Canton raised his rifle, then lowered it in sudden dismay.