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Most of the time Luke found himself looking on in admiration as the Coway readied themselves to counter the human invasion, rather than proposing suggestions of his own. They went about their preparations with enthusiasm and a grim delight.

Luke was thankful for both their competence and attitude. It alleviated a little of his principle concern: the fear that hundreds of Coway might die in defense of the Princess and himself. It was a good feeling to learn that they shared his anger at the shiny-suited figures descending from above.

Thanks to the tactics being employed by the Imperials, Luke discovered that the Princess was too furious to be really frightened. He tried to encourage her anger. Anything that kept her from thinking of Vader was worthwhile.

“Using energy weapons on primitive sentients,” she muttered in outrage. “Another gross violation of the original Imperial charter. Another reason for the Alliance to fight on.”

“The Coway wouldn’t think much of your emoting, young lady,” Halla called out from nearby, “since they consider us the primitives. And judging by the way Grammel and his toadies have behaved toward the local races, sociologically I’d have to side with our subsurface friends.…”

As the defenders polished their strategy for the coming assault, Luke and the Princess found themselves reduced to explaining the capabilities and limitations of the weapons all were likely to face.

At least, he mused, it wasn’t to be all axes and spears. He hefted his pistol and luxuriated in its lethal weight. It had been one of the weapons taken from Halla and the Yuzzem on their capture, now returned to them.

Hin had promptly turned and handed his energy rifle to the Princess. He explained to Luke that he felt more comfortable with the enormous axe the Coway had provided for him. Kee’s attitude was more civilized, and he elected to hang onto his rifle. Or perhaps “civilized” wasn’t the right word.

He was helping with the emplacement of a net when a reverberating crackle echoed like a thunderbolt down the winding approach tunnel. According to Halla, the invaders were at present about halfway between the cavern city and the surface exit.

“E-eleven trooper rifle,” the Princess commented expertly, as the last echoes of the shot died away, “quarter-centimeter aperture, continuous fire on low-power only.” She fought to shift the heavy weapon Hin had given her to a more comfortable ready position.

While their identification of the source of that roar was somewhat less precise than the Princess’, the Coway recognized its ominousness. They embarked on a final frenzy of preparation.

A call came from a series of spread-out forward scouts. Coway started to vanish before Luke’s eyes, moving, jumping, secreting themselves where no hiding place seemed possible. They disappeared into crevices and cracks, into the ground, slipped into holes in the cave ceiling, froze behind false flowstone curtains.

Luke and the Princess hurried to join up with Halla. Both Yuzzem were moving to their predetermined positions, mingling with the less concealed Coway. The two ’droids concealed themselves out of firing range.

Halla concluded her conversation with one of the three chiefs, turned to greet them.

“How many?” was Luke’s first question.

“The scouts aren’t sure,” she told them. “For one thing, the Imperials have advance hunters out, too. That was the source of the shot we all heard. Also, they’re backed up through the cave. But if I have Coway numerology figured right, they think seventy at least.”

“All on foot?” the Princess inquired.

“Yes. They’ve no choice, which is good for us. The tunnel is too choked with rubble and too narrow in many places for even a small personnel carrier to slip through.”

“That’s something,” Luke observed, trying to bolster his own spirits as much as anyone else’s. “We won’t have to cope with mobile armor or heavy weapons.”

Halla chuckled. “Why would Grammel think they’d be needed? Not against our poor primitive Coway, certainly. Sixty, seventy