“I will miss the battle, then,” said the Komani.
“Better to miss the battle than to disobey the orders of your Kang.”
“True. Still, it is hard to turn one’s back on a battle.”
“Lord Okatar will reward you greatly for your faithfulness.”
“If I find the priest.”
“There is no alternative. You may not return to our tents until you have carried out the Kang’s command. The priest must die.”
“Yes.”
The warriors stood up and began to exchange farewells when, involuntarily, their ears pricked up.
“Listen?”
“What is it?”
A faint, far-off whining. A distant, high-pitched shrill.
“I know that sound,” said one of the Komani. “It comes from Terran engines. They are starting up their cruisers and dreadnaughts. The battle is about to begin.”
Time of Decision
Vorgens reached his cruiser at about the same time Merdon met his lieutenants in the dugout command post.
The Watchman spent onfy a few minutes in the cramped cubicle of his quarters. He stripped off his ragged clothes, ducked into the lav-stall for an automatic shower and air-blown drying, changed into a clean uniform and strapped on a sidearm. Then he left the cruiser and began to hunt for Mclntyre.
The effect of the stimulant had reached its full force now, and would sustain Vorgens for several hours more. He felt strong and buoyant, his head was clear. He knew what he had to do, and although he was not particularly happy with the task ahead, he realized that it was the best possible alternative, under the circumstances.
As he searched through the welter of vehicles and equipment that comprised the Mobile Force, Vorgens could see that the men were ready for an attack at dawn. Hardly anyone was alseep. They were checking theirapons, taking stock of their supplies, making lastminute mechanical repairs on their battlewagons. Even the few that were stretched out on the decks and turrets mostly wide-eyed and sleepless-