A dangerous tone rang in Savage's voice and a faraway look came into his eyes.

"McNally," he whispered.

"It is true we're going to attack Rhambda itself?" Koldon asked Savage.

"That's right," the other replied. "Sort of the reverse of what The Bromgrev had planned for us -- and a little retaliation. Look, it makes sense: destroy the home world of the cats and you deprive The Bromgrev of the mass of his best troops -- himself."

"But it's impossible!" Gayal objected. "The Mind's force alone will overtake ships that get close enough to destroy the planet! Remember Exmiril's story?"

"That's true," agreed Savage, "but if you remember all of Exmiril's story, you'll also remember that the Mind didn't take the Caltik Federation ship. The Bromgrey was on board and was able to block the Mind without any aid. Imagine what could be done if he had cybernetic augmentation such as we use for our command ships. Amplified a million times!"

"That means The Hunter must lead the attack personally," Koldon pointed out. "Isn't that just what The Bromgrev wants? To get The Hunter out of here?"

"Calculated risk," Savage explained. "Break Rhambda and you break the army. The Bromgrev coes back to being weaponless once again, and we become masters of our fate once more -- at least until the next time something nasty like this comes up. And we'll be together, looking to see that such a weapon never falls into The Bromgrev's hands again."

"If The Hunter likes it, okay," Koldon gave in.

"Glad you agree," Savage told them both. "Because we're to crew the command ship with The Hunter on board."

Both of them gasped.

"When?" Gayal asked.

"Tomorrow. We leave at 0600 tomorrow morning. Get some sleep."

Savage was making his way back to his quarters when a young Terran woman in the dark black cloth uniform of Haven ground personnel called to him.

She was nothing much -- the clerical type you never look twice at in the office.

Savage remembered seeing her in Food Services, but he didn't know her. She knew him, though.

"Can you come with me for a few minutes, Mr. Savage?" she asked in a high, kittenish, sexy voice.

"It's tempting," he smiled, liking his newfound romantic idol status since his shape change. He had turned down a lot of offers.

"I am The Bromgrev," she whispered.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

"Not another one!" he exclaimed.

She shrugged. "When it suits my purpose. The technique is laborious and quite involved, unless I am in contact with the Rhambdan Mind."

Other people -- human and otherwise -- were walking past them in the corridor.

"This is kind of public, don't you think?" she said, and went over to an office door, which opened automatically. The place was deserted. "I have neutralized all of the snooping devices this time," she told him. "We will not be overhead."

"What's all this about?" Savage asked her. It was difficult not to think of him as a "her."

"You've been expecting this," she accused him. "You've been waiting for it."

"Okay, so I knew you'd talk to me. So?"

"This attack on Rhambda gives me the conditions that I need," she said.

"The Hunter will be in your ship. You must neutralize him, both for Rhambda and for my sake."

"Neutralize him? How the hell can anyone do that?"

"Both The Hunter and I are basically electrical in nature," she reminded him. "Call it pure energy. When the attack comes, The Hunter will be tied in to massive amplifiers within the command ship -- amplifiers built for the purpose of offsetting anything I can do to stop the attack. I have observed the construction of those amplifiers."

"I will tell you how to short them out," The Bromgrey said calmly. "Such an action will also produce unconsciousness in The Hunter -- for several days, probably. Longer than I will need, certainly."

"And once I've short-circuited him?"

"You will take command of the ship and bring him to a world near Rhambda. It's a deserted rock pile on which I have a small base. It was once an observatory for another race, long ago. There we will do what has to be done."

"And what about the others?" Savage asked. "Unlike you, I respect individuals' lives. I once took one in anger that I had no right to take. I cannot bring myself to take innocent lives again."

"Their preservation can be arranged," The Bromgrev replied. "In fact, the way to do it is built in, for you well know that everyone is a creature like me. Just make certain that you are not tied in to the system when you short -- and that they are. The ship will retain their physical bodies and care for them. Their minds will be locked into the ship's systems, but impotent to do anything about it. They, too, will be unconscious -- that's the best word. 'Unable to think' is probably more accurate."

"So how do I restore them?"

"When you dock, you will disconnect them from the main amplifier circuitry, as I shall show you. They will then revive none the worse for wear, and what must be done will be done."

The conversation went on some time more, The Bromgrev sketching the details of how the system would be shorted and restored. When Savage could repeat it back flawlessly, the woman's face showed satisfaction.

"It is finished, then," she said. "Go."

He left her still sitting in the office, wondering if she would collapse in death as Vard had. Probably not, he thought. She might be useful to The Bromgrev in Haven with The Hunter away.

Jenny greeted him with almost too much affection when he returned. He laughed, and picked her up, looking into those beautiful brown eyes. "So what's the occasion?" he asked her.

"I know there's to be a battle," she said seriously. "We might not see each other again for a long time."

"Then we must make tonight count, beautiful," he whispered, and they started to do so.

They made quite a night of it, but Jenny had tears in her eyes as he left the next morning.

"Please come back," she called after him. Later, she heard the speakers throughout Haven announce, "Ship's away!" She had a grim expression as she walked back to the apartment.

Ralph Bumgartner sat smugly in the command chair of the big Situation Room in Haven. He was feeling very pleased with himself. In charge of Haven while the boss was away!

A woman, dressed in black clerical garb, entered the big room and looked around, her eyes finally resting on him. She walked confidently over to where the temporary head of the resistance movement sat.

He looked up at her and smiled. "What can I do for you, babe?"

"You can listen," she replied evenly.

Burngartner's eyebrows shot up. "What the hell is this?" he asked.

"You are a most interesting individual, Bumgartner. I've studied you for a while. I am here to offer you a proposition."

"Any other time I'd say 'Great,' but I'm kind of busy right now," he laughed, and started to turn away from her.

A very strong grip brought him back around.

"I am The Bromgrev," she told him.

"You aren't kidding, are you. . . ?" he said more than asked.

"No," she replied. "I have need of your services. It is essential that you monitor a series of signals -- particular signals -- from the battle area, and that you have a ship ready for my use."

"Why should I help you, lady -- Bromgrev or whatever you are? I work for the opposition."

"You work for yourself, Bumgartner," she observed. "You like the winning side. You are in it for the work, not the cause. I am about to win, and those who are with me will share in the rewards."

"Now, look here--" he began impatiently.

"Do I have to assimilate everyone in this room to prove it to you?" she asked him.

He calmed down and grew thoughtful.

"If you need me so much, why not just assimilate me?"

"You know the reason: Hunter has set up blockages in you as he did in all his agents. But, if necessary, I can operate without you."

"Okay, okay, all right," he said, throwing up his hands. "Let's talk about it."

2.

THE PLANETARY DESTRUCTION force was composed of just a dozen large ships, each powerful enough to obliterate a huge mass. In addition the same principles that governed the space-drive itself were directed to a different purpose: Pushing along a huge mass of rock held with tractor beams, the destruction force prepared to transform the mass into anti-matter once it had been placed in the proper trajectory to strike the target -- still distant -- ahead of them.

A dense fighter screen darted in and out and all around, but they were no match for the well-planned attack. Drawn thin within a large volume, they could ill afford to concentrate their forces, for fear that The Hunter's attack was but a mass diversion to allow for systematic pinpoint attacks on major fronts.

For primary defense, the Rhambdans depended on the Mind.

To get close enough to Rhambda to transform the great mass they towed and make certain it hit, the attackers would have to be almost in orbit.

But this time things were different.

Hunter sat under a central command helmet in the special ship constructed to monitor the attack. The massive power generators in this ship were not directed at the mass, and it threw no tractor beams. Using the amplifiers, Hunter's own mind threw a shield over the entire attack force -- a shield of such power that none could break it.

Gunnery was bandied by Koldon and Savage, although neither had to fire a shot. The combination of fighter protection and the massed locus of the power shield had protected them from attack.

The massed squadrons of Rhambdan defense units were suicidally throwing themselves at the towed planetoid, ignoring the enemy fighter screen. It was having some effect: despite massive losses, parts of the planetoid were being chipped away. As Savage watched with his 180-degree vision, he could see huge chunks get torn out of the mass by the concentrated gunnery beams of the Rhambdan ships.

To Savage, it was also clear that they would be in position over Rhambda, even moving at the A-1 slowness demanded by the tow job, in a matter of minutes -- far too quickly for the Rhambdans to take out the bulk of the planetoid.

Suddenly his view faded out. The automatics he had preset when getting into battle stations had brought him out of the circuitry almost on cue.

"What's the matter, Savage?" Gayal's concerned voice came over the ship's intercom. "Why are you no longer manning your gun?"

"Must be a malfunction of the timer!" he called out, shaking his head clear.

"I'll be back in harness in a minute. I'm not critical, anyway."

Slowly he raised his head and looked around.

Koldon reclined opposite him, still deep within the guns. Gayal remained immobile at the helm, her body strapped in the forward chair. Stephen Wade's body was similarly immobile in his chair behind hers.

Quietly Savage unstrapped himself and sat up. He got unsteadily to his feet, to which he could feel strength and circulation rapidly return.

The vessel was a modified pickup ship; aft, where the cabins would have been, though, were the amplifiers for The Hunter's effort. Because they were all powered from the engines below, Savage went over to the red and yellow cables which led from the amplifiers into the deck. Taking out a piece of coiled copper wire and a pocketknife, he wrapped the wire around two live terminals on the master amplifiers, then took it down to the two cables.

Split seconds were all he had, he knew. Once he broke the cable, the copper wire must immediately touch it, or there was a chance that the automated mechanisms would free the others before the proper actions could take place.

He sweated nervously as he cut the yellow insulation from around the top cable. Below -- exposed -- were the massed cables he needed.

Putting the thick, rubber-lined glove over his left hand, he grasped the copper wire, bringing it out to full length.

"Savage? How's it coming?" Gayal's voice asked, sounding as mechanical as the ship, since it was actually the verbalization of her thoughts slowed to a speed which those not cybernetically linked to the machinery could understand.

"Okay!" he called to her. "One more minute!"

He held his breath and touched the copper wire to the exposed cable.

The lights dimmed, and the ship seemed to loose even the pulsation of the engines. That was all.

He wondered if something had gone wrong. He waited for a moment, then wrapped the coil around the cable so that it would stay, and went back into the command bridge.

Everything looked the same except for the dimmer lighting.

He had a dryness in his throat. "Gayal?" he called. "What is the position of the ship?"

There was no response.

"Gayal!" he shouted, his voice echoing around the walls. "What's going on?"

Silence answered him.

The three forms on the bridge continued their rhythmic breathing but did not stir.