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"They won't,' cooed Tanhith.'They've come here to take the information Felbaac carries. He doesn't trust anyone enough to tell them everything. It would diminish his own importance too much. He's probably only so keen for you to help because he told Dwynaar and his lot that you were a part of his plans.'

'Oh, nice one. So they'll put me in a brain drain and then shoot me?' Sam wasn't really sure why she was arguing. She seemed to have few options open to her, and if these troops were really on the way, what would stop them shooting her on sight if she definitely wasn 't what they were after?

'Sam, Felbaac will have carried out his plan by then. It will be all right.'

Tanhith's voice faltered ever so slightly on the last words, but it was enough for Sam to pick up on. She waited for a coughing fit to subside, then spoke softly.

'You're not really so sure, are you?'

'Oh, I'm sure Felbaac will come through for us,' smiled Tanhith weakly. 'His plan may even work out perfectly, although, to be honest, that would be a first.' He coughed again.'You may have noticed, Sam, that my health is not good.'

Sam looked at him.'Just a bit of a cough, isn't it?'

Tanhith smiled wryly. 'Probably. I'm sure my body will pull through. I think it's the rest of me that's getting ready to let go'

'Don't talk like that; said Sam with a shaky laugh.'Do I look like a priest?'

She took his hand.'Just shut up, OK?'

'OK.' He straightened up, a little embarrassed. 'You look more like the leader of the glorious rebellion than a priest, that much is true.' His voice was a little colder, and his smile seemed apologetic as if to make up for it.

'Felbaac's going to capture the K'Arme ship, so he says. He'll be able to signal through to your friend on the moonbase.'

The Doctor!' she said without thinking, a broad smile brightening her face.

'Yes, him.'

Sam looked at Tanhith and stood up, rubbing her legs, which had pins and needles from sitting cross-legged on the bunk.'All right,' she said at length,'I'm up for it. It's got to be better than doing nothing. Tell me what I need to do.'

***

Traxes signalled his two land cruisers to halt. He'd found the rebel ship. It was damaged and abandoned, and none of the information Sangton had requested seemed to be on board. The old man had told him to blow it up as a kind of announcement of their presence, a signal to begin the festivities. It had a certain style, thought Traxes, rubbing beads of sweat from his furry moustache.

The bombs were planted, and they'd moved on. Now, through his optical boosters, he could see the camp, a sorry collection of stone buildings and shacks, a bunch of weedy plants half sheltered by sheets of metal and crates. Nothing moved. The scene shimmered in the blazing heat.

Traxes spoke into his communicator. 'Fettal, are you receiving?'

Her voice came smoothly from his ear implant.'Receiving.'

'Are you -'

'I'm in position, Traxes. Waiting for your signal,'

Traxes' face twisted in an irritated scowl. 'You'll have it when their ship goes up.'

'Good; she said lightly, and disconnected.

Traxes looked round to his men. 'When you see the explosion, we roll in together. Understand?'

The men nodded their silent agreement.

***

The hunter Kusk marched towards the control chamber. A flimsy helmet that looked as if it was made of cellophane coated his long head.

The machine was still chugging away, blocking the entrance. The air was thick with fumes.

Protected by the helmet, the Kusk seized hold of two pieces of thick rubber under the metal frame of the vehicle with its delicate, bony hands and pulled backward. The machine shifted about a metre. The Kusk yanked hold of the metal pipe belching out the choking fumes and pulled it off. The engine noise grew to a throaty roar, as if the vehicle had been angered, and more smoke filled the air. Growling more loudly than the engine, with both hands now under the rear wheel arches,