The swarms of lockstepping Klikiss robots thundered across Jonah 12 for the better part of a day, pulverizing frozen gases into an obscuring fog. Far from where the damaged grazer sat stranded at the top of the ridge, line after line of the black machines flowed past. Cesca couldn't tell where they were going.

"Maybe they've got ships or equipment sealed in a different storage area," Purcell suggested. "After all, the robots themselves were buried." Feeling the cold through his environment suit, he hugged his arms to his chest.

Cesca looked at his pale face, saw his faint wisp of exhalation in the chilly compartment. Their life-support batteries were fading. "Maybe it's worse than that. What if they're homing in on the transmissions from our base domes?" He had no answer for that.

Stranded here, unable to do anything about the robots, she had far too much time to think about Jhy Okiah, the destruction of Rendezvous, and the scattered clans. Now more than ever the outlaw families needed someone to bring them together, someone who would be more of a leader than a mere spokesperson. If the clans didn't get their act together, the Big Goose might succeed in breaking the spine of the confederation of Roamer families.

That was the philosophical big picture, but right now Cesca wasn't sure how she would survive another day. She had already seen two men die and a horde of alien robots unleashed. She feared the marching insectile ranks might be a greater threat even than the Eddies.

Stuck here, however, she couldn't do anything for anybody: not for the Roamer clans, not for the small mining settlement, not even for herself. She had had to get back to the main base! to get back to the main base!

As if on cue, a signal came over the comm system. "Hey, Purcell? Speaker Peroni? We're coming to rescue you, two of us in one of the grazers. Sorry it took so long. Hey, we can't detect your locator beacon."

Purcell checked the control panel. "The robots must have torn it off when they attacked."

"Good thing, or they probably would have come after us," Cesca said.

With gloved hands Purcell worked the comm controls. "I'm sending you the coordinates manually. We're on high ground, but I don't want to turn on our bright spotlights. I'd rather not draw the attention of those robot hordes."

"Oh, there you are! Closer than we thought," the rescue grazer transmitted. "Up ahead we can see-by the Guiding Star! There must be thousands of robots. What did you guys do?"

Cesca leaned over the voice pickup. "Give them a wide berth. Avoid any contact."

Purcell's voice cracked as he added, "They attacked us, and killed Danvier and Jack."

Soon Cesca spotted the bright forward lights of a lone grazer trundling toward them. The regimented Klikiss robots had fanned out across the terrain; now, seeing the approach of the low-riding vehicle, the machines became agitated. Hundreds of them veered toward it like a group of maddened insects.

"That doesn't look good," Purcell said.

"Get out of there!" Cesca shouted into the voice pickup. "Turn around and return to base at full speed. Forget about us for now. Don't let them-"

Across the horizon, another line of the Klikiss robots appeared, having circled to the rear. The alien machines pressed in toward the rescue grazer like a giant pincer closing. The vehicle's driver moved back and forth, scribing a zigzag path. "So many! And I doubt they just want to shake hands."

"Full speed. You can outrun them," Cesca said. "We did."

In the distance she saw the beetlelike robots converging from all directions. They did not seem hurried, just murderously confident as they tightened an ever-constricting noose. The grazer swerved, searching for an opening. "They've got us trapped. What do you think they have in mind?"

"Get out of there!" Cesca yelled again.

The grazer accelerated toward the nearest robot, gathering speed until it slammed into two of the black machines that refused to move out of the way. The grazer shuddered, and both Klikiss robots went sprawling aside in the low gravity. But, advancing relentlessly, seven other robots seized the vehicle, using their myriad sharp claws and cutting tools on the hull.

"Go, go go!" she cried, but it was already too late.

Over the comm system, Cesca could hear shouts and the deadly scraping sounds. "They've torn out the engines. I can't move. Hull breach imminent-"

Now that it was covered by Klikiss robots, Cesca could hardly discern the grazer. Suddenly, a gout of steam spilled into the freezing obsidian sky, venting air from inside the vehicle like a dying man's last breath.

In the seat beside her, Purcell was shaking. A tear ran down one of his cheeks. Cesca wanted to scream, to explode, to help help somehow. With her gloved hand, she pounded the metal wall of the grazer as if pummeling one of the robots. She stopped herself when her knuckles were smashed and bruised. "Damn it!" Hot tears burned her eyes. somehow. With her gloved hand, she pounded the metal wall of the grazer as if pummeling one of the robots. She stopped herself when her knuckles were smashed and bruised. "Damn it!" Hot tears burned her eyes.

No further communication came from the two would-be rescuers. Her stomach roiled with anger and grief. Cesca felt as if she would melt down with sadness for the slain Roamers and her total, impossible frustration at being unable to do anything to help. Beside her, Purcell shivered uncontrollably.

Like piranhas chewing every scrap of flesh from a carcass, the robot army continued to cut and dismantle the vehicle, ripping it to pieces and scattering the debris across the virgin snow. When nothing remained but a pile of processed metals and steaming residue, the Klikiss robots formed ranks again and continued marching.

Moaning, Purcell looked at Cesca as if she could solve the problem. "What could they want? They didn't ask for anything! Didn't issue any threats or warnings-they just went on a rampage."

Even on such a frigid planet, the tears felt like boiling water poised in her eyes. "Their main objective is to destroy, but I don't know why. You saw the size of that army-what plans can they have here on Jonah 12?" She paused as a possibility struck her. "What if they intend to leave and go on the rampage elsewhere?"

"To do that, they'd need ships, Speaker."

"They got here somehow. Maybe they'll leave the same way. Or maybe they'll build new ships, using any equipment and components they can find."

Purcell's Adam's apple bobbed up and down, and his face turned grayer. He looked as if he might pass out from the weight of his realization. "That's probably why they're heading to the base! Think of all the equipment, components, and raw materials we've got."

With angry, staccato movements, Cesca changed the frequency on the comm system, alarmed to see how low the battery's power levels had fallen. "We've got to warn the main base. I don't know how much longer this transmitter will work, but they don't dare send somebody else after us. They've got to protect themselves."

Purcell gulped. "But what about us? Even locked down and conserving energy, we can't survive out here for more than another day or two. It's already-"

She shot him a sharp look. "I don't know how fast those Klikiss robots can move across the open terrain, but they'll reach the base long before that. They've been marching for a full day already."

Conserving power, she transmitted a rushed description of what they had just witnessed. The base comm operator's staticky image looked harried. "Shizz, if those robots are coming our way, Speaker-any advice on what we're supposed to do about it? We're a mining facility. We don't have any weapons."

"Better take the available ships and evacuate as many people as possible."

"Ships? Speaker, we sent them all out to take messages to any of the clans they could find. It's only been a few days and none of them has returned yet."

Cesca's own decision to spread the news had eliminated their best chance! Back then, she had thought the EDF attack was their greatest concern. But there had to be some other way. "You're Roamers Roamers-try something! Seal the dome hatches and barricade yourselves for the time being." She looked to the engineering administrator beside her, but he was shaking his head.

"They just tore through the grazer like it was tissue paper. If they really want to get into the base domes-"

She yelled into the comm pickup, wanting nothing more than to be there herself to take charge. "Then go through your mining equipment, find something that'll help you defend yourselves. Get some people suited up and launch them to orbit in cargo pods cargo pods if you don't have any available ships." if you don't have any available ships."

"Without life support and no way to get back down?" Purcell said beside her. "Speaker, they'll die in hours!"

"It could be sooner than that if they don't do something." She frowned. "Isn't there some way they could rig the power reactor to start a runaway supercriticality? Blow it up in the face of the oncoming robots?"

The engineer's eyes went so wide he looked like a child who had just awakened from a nightmare. "Sure, but the meltdown and flash would wipe out the whole base! What good would that do? We'd all die."

Cesca met his gaze, and her voice was as hard and cold as one of Jonah 12's ice outcroppings. "At least it would stop the robots from leaving this planetoid."

He didn't say anything for a long moment, then swallowed hard again. "Yeah, it would do that."

"They're already coming!" the woman at the base shouted, turning away from the imager. "Five robots just appeared behind the reactor. I see ten-no, at least twenty-five coming over the crater rim. It's an invasion!"

"And we're stranded here," Cesca whispered in dismay.

"At least we're safe..."

"Forget that!" She was far more concerned about the Roamers trapped in the base domes, completely vulnerable to the Klikiss robots. She didn't have visions of being a foolish hero charging in for a dramatic yet pointless end, but as Speaker she needed to be available for her people, to help them dredge up impossible solutions. "Isn't there any way to get moving?"

"If I could figure out how to do that, we'd be long gone from here already."

"Mayday!" the base comm operator shouted to anyone listening. "Emergency! We need assistance here."

"Tell us what's going on!" Cesca shouted.

The harried woman on the screen touched her headphone and received a scatter of responses. "All right. Two people are going to run excavation equipment into the robots, drive them like military tanks. One man is using the canister launchers, but they're aimed toward orbit. I don't think he can deflect the trajectory enough to operate them as cannons. We-" Her words cut off as the loud krrump krrump of a decompression explosion rang through the domes. of a decompression explosion rang through the domes.

Now a flurry of other transmissions, all on the same frequency, came in, overlapping in a garbled chaos. Purcell used the grazer's dying comm system to cycle through images that showed black robots outside the base domes, pushing themselves against the reinforced structures, dismantling power conduits and life-support generators. Six robots knocked down a sealed equipment hut.

Two people rushed out wearing environment suits; one carried a small projectile launcher, the other nothing more than a long metal club. The launcher's projectile exploded against an oncoming robot, knocking the machine backward; its exoskeleton was scarred, but the robot itself was not harmed. The two suited men threw themselves upon the mechanical attackers. In moments, both were slaughtered.

Cesca squeezed her eyes shut, not to hide but to focus on any possible threads of hope. She found none. Purcell moaned and began muttering a litany of names in a quiet, hollow voice. She didn't know if the engineer had family members here on Jonah 12, but all Roamers considered themselves part of an extended clan. These were men and women beside whom he had worked, people who relied on each other, held each other's lives in their hands.

And now they were all being slaughtered.

Inside the main dome, the comm operator had fled her post, but the unattended imagers continued transmitting. Sparks geysered from multiple explosions; smoke and steam gushed into the room. The interior lights flickered.

"They're indestructible!" someone shouted on another band.

"Life support's completely destroyed. No way we'll ever get this running again."

"They're into the first dome! Explosive decompression-everyone's dead in there. They broke it open to space."

"By the Guiding Star!"

The shouts and screams became a pandemonium of gibberish. Cesca sat squirming in helpless anger, desperate to do do something as she tried to absorb all the horrors occurring at the base. She longed to help, to find some way they could stand against this ruthless army of alien machines. something as she tried to absorb all the horrors occurring at the base. She longed to help, to find some way they could stand against this ruthless army of alien machines.

"It's low gravity, and even on foot we can cover a lot of ground fast," she said to Purcell. "We could run run. How long would it take?"

"They're excellent suits, Speaker, but as I told you, in this supercold we'd last only a couple of hours. We can't go halfway around Jonah 12 in that time."

Her shoulders slumped, and though she battered at her walls of reason, she could not break down the inevitable conclusion. "And even if we made it, they've already smashed into the domes. I'm not anxious to give them two more victims, if that's all it would be." Her gloved hand curled into a fist, and she thumped the grazer's insulated wall again in frustration.

On the flickering screen she saw a few people running in the background, a struggle, and then ominous black shapes. Sounds of explosions and smashing metal rang across the speakers. Then a looming shadow approached the imager in the comm room. With a burst of static the images ceased.

Huddled in their grazer, their attention rapt, they were left with audio only. Soon all the screams and shouts had stopped across the different bands. No one responded when Cesca used some of their last battery power in a desperate attempt to hail them.

"There's nobody else left," Purcell said, his long face sagging. With his finger he tapped the display on their control modules. The interior temperature had dropped dramatically in the past half hour. "And look at what's left in the power cells. We can't recharge them."

"Seems like we have only two choices: a slow death, or a swift one." Cesca dredged up all the confidence she had ever used as Speaker. "But I'm not going to give up yet. We're Roamers Roamers."

Chapter 66-ADMIRAL LEV STROMO.

Reluctantly heading for distant Corribus to investigate an alleged massacre, Admiral Stromo was impatient. He wished he could just go back home and leave the risky field duties to younger, more ambitious commanders like Elly Ramirez. He'd barely had time to change his clothes at the EDF base before turning the Manta around and hauling ass to the site of another enemy attack.

On the way, he reviewed the unedited recordings from the interviews with Orli Covitz and Hud Steinman and the images taken by Captain Roberts. A kid, an old man, and a deserter! In the meantime, through an exchange of telink messages sent via the handful of green priests still working for the Hansa, Klikiss gateway planets verified that the Corribus transportal coordinates were indeed shut down. Something was up.

He certainly hoped that whatever had attacked the colony was no longer around. At full emergency speed, his Manta would arrive at Corribus no more than a day after first hearing the disturbing news, and their analysis techs would get some real answers. EDF ships? That simply couldn't be possible. Klikiss robots and turncoat Soldier compies? He glanced nervously around his own command bridge. Along the Manta's corridors, day in and day out, hundreds of Soldier compies performed their tasks exactly as expected. His own cruiser relied heavily on them, and the machines had never exhibited any problems. An EDF warship on patrol had as many as one compy to five humans. It was ridiculous even to suggest getting rid of them all.

General Lanyan would wait for Stromo's report before taking drastic action. Still, it did not look good.

"I get no response from the colony transmitter, Admiral," Ramirez said from the bridge. "We've been hailing them for ten minutes. They should have somebody on duty."

"We don't doubt that a disaster occurred there," Stromo said. "I just hope those witnesses were exaggerating."

"Getting our first high-res images now." The screen displayed the granite-walled canyon and the plains spreading outward. Ramirez read from her sensor readout at the commander's chair. "Corribus's air is relatively clear of water vapor. We should be able to get higher magnification-Ah!" The image blurred and then sharpened as the Manta's adaptive optics crystallized the focus through layers of atmosphere.

Now he could see the burn marks and wreckage with painful clarity. A few colorful scraps of what had been prefab colony structures lay scattered, knocked to pieces. The ancient Klikiss ruins had been blasted into rubble.

Stromo stared. "I don't see anybody moving down there, do you?"

"According to the girl, this happened some weeks ago. We didn't expect to find anybody."

"Right, right." Stromo stood straight-backed, remembering General Lanyan's instructions. "Put together a crew with full analytical instruments. I want detailed imaging, precise postmortem studies, and a complete map of the destruction. We have to learn what caused this."

"We have a personnel transport ready to depart, Admiral," Ramirez said. "I presume you'd like to accompany them?"

He would rather have stayed on the bridge, but the situation seemed to require his presence. "You've run a full scan all the way out to the perimeter of the Corribus system? No enemy vessels detected, nothing unusual?"

"Whatever's been here went away long ago, sir."

"All right then, get eight crewmen, and I'll accompany them in the shuttle. I promise to find out what happened down there."

The dry air held a spoiled tang from old burns. Thin winds whistling through the granite canyon had long ago scoured the smoke away, but a greasy layer of fresh soot covered the rockfaces. Stromo paced the uneven ground, using the toe of his boot to nudge shattered stones and melted lumps of polymer. The investigators found only blackened bones and bloodstains, no other sign of the hundred or so colonists.

Without instructions from him, the team members fanned out, taking detailed three-dimensional images. They probed about, measuring residual energy signatures, scraping the by-products of burns from where weapons blasts had destroyed equipment and material. They marked the locations of any human remains they found.

"Admiral, do we take the cadavers back up to the ship for identification, or should we bury them individually here?"

Stromo didn't want to stay on this unnerving planet any longer than was necessary; besides, the General was waiting for his immediate report. "We can presume they're all dead. The colony records will list their names. Instruct the Manta to dispatch digging equipment so we can provide quick graves." He nodded for emphasis. "It's the right thing to do."

Even with the scramble of activity, he found Corribus oppressive. What if the mysterious attackers came back? It could happen at any time.

"How soon until you have a first-order conclusion?" he said to a nearby woman, who was using a scraper to put powder from a burn scar into a diagnostic machine. "I want to have something by sunset." He worked his jaw, silently cursing the green priests for dropping out of military service. It would have been much easier to send an immediate report through telink.

"I'm verifying my results right now, sir. From what I've got so far...I just wanted to be sure." She looked down at her tiny screen, saw the jagged lines of a spectrographic signature. "No doubt about it-these are scars from jazer blasts. Other debris bears specific signatures of the explosive chemicals we use in EDF heavy-artillery shells. The girl was right."