"Bodluk was right. We are on his side in this but what can three of us do along with you, two women, a young girl and a wounded boy?"

Nettie and Dame Wen had spent the early morning hours tracking down Bodluk's comrades and convincing them to come and at least meet with Isben.

Isben appraised the rough looking soldier and his two companions, "Don't forget there are five more in the palace and three on the space boat."

"Yes. And they're all prisoners," the soldier stamped around, kicking at the ground.

"We must get them out then," Bryan spoke up defiantly.

"What, are you going to threaten them with your bandaged arm lad. Against Haxxor and his troops we wouldn't stand a chance."

"This is but a scratch," Bryan countered, miffed at the insult, "I'm fit and can fight too."

Isben stepped into the exchange raising his hands for calm. "Listen, what we propose is smuggling weapons into the palace prisoners through that little window. We can send swords up one at a time on a rope. It will be up to them to make the best use of them and let us know when to assist."

The three men looked at one another and frowned. "I don't know. It's terribly risky."

"Then give us the swords and we'll do it ourselves. We believe it's a risk that must be taken," Isben challenged.

The soldier considered Isben, turned to his friends for a moment and said, "You're either foolish or very foolish but- Bodluk, and I suppose your friends as well, are good men. I guess it's the least we can do for a comrade."

Smiles broke out all around the men clasped hands agreeing to their common bond.

*****

"Are you not finished yet," Terron complained, stamping around the huddled Korvaal, "I want this to go by sled tonight!"

"I'm trying my best Mistress. I'm trying to get the wording you wanted just right, it-"

"Well try harder! And faster too or I'll speed you up with a taste of my sword!"

Korvaal gulped audibly.

*****

"I don't know how they managed this in broad daylight," Bodluk commented in amazement, "your friends must be very resourceful."

"And yours as well," Marc agreed, hefting the last of the swords to be dragged through the window before concealing it with the others in a dark corner of the cell. "Write a note on this Bodluk," he handed the soldier another patch from his tunic, "tell them we will make our move when they deliver that swill they call dinner- about sunset."

Church tied the new message to the end of the rope, gave a sharp tug and watched it snake up the wall, disappearing through the bars. "I hope we don't have to write many more notes," he chided, "you'll be down to your underwear."

"We can always start on yours," Marc teased, pleased that the group still had a sense of humour.

*****

The guard's shift had just changed and Captain Wilde determined that it would be now or maybe never. He slid his hand down beside the seat calling silently to Reb for success. Almost immediately his fingers touched the release button and he rolled his eyes in self recrimination. Glancing quickly at the guard, he gingerly pressed the button and the panel popped open with a soft snap.

Pulling the stunner from the clasps, his worked it up beneath the sleeve of his tunic and paused to take several deep breaths. The trick now, he thought, was to get all three guards before they had a chance to react and he hoped his friends would be alert and quick to respond.

"Excuse me. I think I'm going to be sick. May I get some water from the lounge?" Wilde sagged forward in his chair holding his stomach.

"Be sick in here and you'll clean it up Azwan," the guard growled without pity.

"Please, just a sip of water. My dry throat is making me gag." Wilde began rising.

"Don't move pig! I'll fetch you a glass," he moved huffily away from the door and into the lounge.

"What's up?" one of the men asked.

"Aah our poor captain is going to throw up if he doesn't get some water. If he's sick in there I'll shut the door and leave him in it."

Ramos and Timon exchanged a quick glance, they knew Wilde wasn't sick and they readied themselves for whatever he was planning. As the three soldiers stood grouped by the galley drawing the water, Wild leaped from the cabin and fired the stunner.

The closest one dropped without a sound and the other two were quickly subdued by Ramos and Timon, clamping their mouths to quell the disturbance from those outside. Seized with anger and acknowledging that this was war, Wilde delivered a terminal shot to each of the unconscious soldiers. He straightened up and stared at his comrades with a combination of remorse and resolution.

"My Reb!" Ramos exclaimed, "You've killed them Captain Wilde."

"No more than they were planning for us," Timon spoke calmly, accepting the situation with a military view. He bent quickly to relieve the corpses of their weapons, offering one to each man. Ramos took the heavy sword like it was a deadly snake, his expression one of total disbelief. "I can't- I don't-"

Captain Wilde shook him by the arm and whispered harshly; spittle dotting the young man's face. "Get a grip, young Given. This is a life and death predicament and I don't intend the latter for myself. We've got comrades in that palace somewhere and right now we are their only hope."

Timon adjusted the sword on his belt and slapped the young man on the back, "Welcome to my world Ramos," he turned to Wilde and nodded confidently, "he'll be fine sir, I'll keep a good eye on him."

"The next change of guards is at sunset when they bring us food. Until then there isn't much we can do. I don't favour the odds of rushing out there in broad daylight," Wilde paced back and forth slapping his palm with his fist. "When they come we'll do them as we did these three," he threw a warning look at Ramos, who closed his eyes and lowered his head, "then, with dusk on our side , we'll break for the palace."

"When we get there," Timon said, without a hint of doubt, "we may find a lot of company."

"I don't know what else to suggest. You're the soldier, what should we do?"

Without hesitation, Timon agreed, "I can't conceive of a better way. Whatever we do, it's better than waiting here to be executed. Don't you think Ramos?" He jokingly poked the young man's ribs.

"I just- I can't believe what's happening. My whole life I've never been involved in-"

"Just cling to that happy phrase my friend," Timon grinned, "your 'whole life' is exactly what's on the line here."

Ramos looked up at the two older men, his mind clicking like a stick on a picket fence. He felt a gradual stirring of resolve in his chest as he studied the firm conviction in their eyes. Drawing from their strength, he hefted the unfamiliar weapon in his hands and permitted a trace of a smile. "As you say. I can't conceive of a better way- so let's do it."

********

"Haxxor, please tell me why the sled isn't ready," Terron sat at the table with her head on her forearms, speaking into the table top.

"Gnng, can't find fuel cap."

"Can't find fuel cap," she repeated, aping his voice in a wondering tone, "and why is that?"

Haxxor, not used to anything but purely physical reactions, scratched around the spikes on his head and stood in silent confusion.

Terron turned her head and peered at him with one eye, Reb, what an ugly brute, she thought. Dragging herself upright and scraping the table top with a nail, she glowered at the puzzled giant, "What I'm asking Haxxor is- is theRE NO ONE AROUND THIS PLACE THAT CAN LOCATE THE DAMNED CAP!" she stood abruptly and stormed toward the door, shoving him aside roughly.

Outside, the group of lolling soldiers clattered to attention as she banged out the door and stumped down the steps, eyes blazing. "Have you found this missing fuel cap yet? Why are you sitting around here on your lazy backsides you- you-" she whipped out her formidable sword and charged the group, which scattered like ten pins.

The slowest, and least fortunate, fell with a blood curdling scream as she clove him from shoulder to hip with one mighty swing. Wiping the blade on the dead soldier's tunic, she raised a fist after the retreating group, "FIND ME THAT BLOODY CAP OR I'LL STUFF ONE OF YOU IN THE HOLE!"

*****

"Good Reb, did you see that!?" Isben peeked through the bushes by the palace wall, shocked by the spectacle he had just seen.

"I saw. And I've seen worse," the nervous soldier wiped his mouth with a shaky hand, "Terron by name, terror by nature my friend. Now you have an idea of what we're up against."

"But that was one of her own men!"

"Do you think she cares? It's her way or the highway- make no mistake."

Isben turned away, his back against the springy branches of a bush. A few yards away Bryan was being sick near the other fidgeting soldiers.

"I don't think-"

Gaz, the leader of the trio of soldiers, placed a solid hand on Isben's back and spoke gently, "Your plan is still the only thing we have my friend. If we fail-" he paused to clear his throat, "if we fail, then at least it will have been through trying. The alternative is to wait for an end like that," he tossed a glance back toward the palace steps.

Isben looked at him, "You're still willing?"

"As I hope you are?"

Isben turned and looked again at the corpse crumpled on the steps, "She's got to be stopped. This has to end now," he stood in a crouch and went to Bryan who was wiping his face and gulping for air. "C'mon lad, you've seen the enemy in action now. We can't stand by and let our friends inside suffer the same fate."

Bryan inhaled deeply and nodded his head, his eyes locking with those of Gaz and he felt the heat burn in his cheeks. "I guess I will need more than my bloodied bandage, eh Gaz?"

The grizzled soldier smiled warmly and came over, thumping him on the back encouragingly.