"I have possession of the box they come in, but the codes themselves may only be used in the presence of a full Auditing Team from Cluster Command."

"Oh, really. Where is that listed?"

"Regulation 119 B, Auditing Codes Control, paragraph twelve, line six, sir."

Luisa put a query search into her Strand. In a few seconds she bad a screen display on the Auditing Codes Control regulations.

"Ah, I see it. All this section, this 119 B, was written and added by Colonel Adrienne Barsch. When was this?"

"Several years ago."

"And since then has the auditing software ever been inspected?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"And how long have you kept the keycodes, Captain?"

"Well, I don't know if I should tell you this."

"You should, I demand it."

He was obviously flustered. "Well, I think it's been about five years now."

"I see. Thank you, Captain. I want you to bring the box with the keyware in it to this office."

"Well, I don't know, Colonel. Isn't this a little irregular?

That box is in Fleet Command as of this moment. I don't know whether I shouldn't refer this to Admiral Heidheim."

"Shut up, Captain! Shut the fuck up and listen to me! I am planetary commander, the Fleet Command here answers to me. Do you understand this basic fact?"

"Well, I-"

"Do you? Because I will call Scopus Central right now and ask for your arrest and court-martial if you don't."

That shook him. He knew she had the authority. Heldheim could not be relied on to save his ass in this instance.

"Well, uh, Colonel, I can get it for you but it will take a little while. The box is in the timed vault. I can get it out in two hours' time."

"Good, then I shall expect it on my desk within two hours and twenty minutes. Understood?"

"Yes, uh, Colonel Chang." Cachester was licking his lips nervously.

Two hours and twenty minutes later, Chang received a call in her office. Cachester reported that the box containing the keywares was missing from the time vault. No one had signed for it nor was there any evidence pointing to when it had been taken.

Luisa thought a moment and then called Scopus Central. She hadn't yet called for help. It was time.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

AFTER ESCAPING FROM THE FARMYARD THE BATTLEMASTER HAD proceeded for a short distance into the forest before allowing the hostform to collapse.

It was badly wounded; essential fluids were leaking from the chest cavity. It was unfortunate but a period of rest and recuperation was going to be necessary. Feeding and physical repair were required before any further exertion could be demanded from the host.

And while the body of the hostform was being taken care of, the Battlemaster needed to explore the technical culture of the hostform creatures.

From the effort of taking the initial host, and then the creation of a secondary form in the second host taken, the Battlemaster had learned much about the nature of the creatures.

They were of an unusually high order of intelligence. Their tech-culture exhibited signs of mass manufacture. They understood the energies of the universe and were able to manipulate the electromagnetic force. They also possessed a primitive sense of ballistic-weapon science. The gun that it had been shot with was little more than a simple firing tube, equipped with a ten shot magazine that was empty now. The cartridges were scattershots, with small steel balls within.

This much was known. The Battlemaster knew that it was essential to learn much, much more, and soon. Crucial decisions bad to be made and there was simply insufficient information available to make them on a rational basis.

One set of questions in particular burned at the forefront of the Battlemaster's thinking: Was this the homeworid of these creatures, and how had they come upon the Battlemaster's moribund remains?

From human DNA and cell structures the Battlemaster had already surmised a long evolutionary path for the creatures. The metabolisms were complex, but of a low order of intensity.

Longevity was clearly more important than immediate utility.

This was to be expected in wild hostform. And yet in the first hostform there had been something perhaps artificial in the matter of longevity. This posed another intriguing question mark concerning these creatures and their world.

After a period of immediate rest during which the Battlemaster worked feverishly to grow fresh tissue to seal the wounds, it mused the host back to its feet once more. There was little strength left in the creature, which had barely recovered from the taxing demands of the initial conversion to host when the hostiles broke in and precipitated the violence.

Slowly it shambled back through the woods toward the farm.

From the edge of the trees it surveyed the scene. Around the farm there was little sign of activity. In the mid-distance there was a repeated sonorous sound, as of metal being struck.

Suddenly there came a machine sound and from a group of sheds at one side of the farm emerged a vehicle. It had four oversized wheels and rolled swiftly past the other buildings, then turned and passed close to the spot where the Battlemaster crouched.

The Battlemaster observed one of the hostform creatures within the vehicle, directing it through a manual system.

It passed and went on down the straight passage cut through the vegetation expressly for this purpose.

The Battlemaster watched it go, then crept toward the farm buildings through the gathering dusk.

First, it looked into the cow shed, and experienced a pang of disapointment.

The young Secondary Form had been helpless, still locked in cyst when the fighting erupted. The hostile bipeds had taken it away, probably to destroy it.

The equipment in the place had been smashed to tinders, too; there was nothing here for the Battlemaster.

It moved on, noting the mix of primitive technologies with items of higher caliber that were interspersed among the rest.

There was little, however, that would be of use. In particular there was no sign of ammunition supplies for the gun.

Then in a long, narrow shed the Battlemaster found an answer to one pressing problem. Along the walls were a number of square pens, each containing a single, white, feathered animal.

Concluding that these creatures were food forms, the Battlemaster pushed forward. A food form was removed and killed while its wings flapped and it emitted squawks of desperation.

The Battlemaster withdrew with the white, feathered carcass into the trees. There it ate the thing with large, powerful bites, discarding feathers and bones where necessary.

The accelerated metabolism of the hostform digested the raw flesh very swiftly.

Feeling physical strength return to something above minimum, the Battlemaster moved on, heading away from the farm.

Night had fallen. Wind sighed in the trees. A bright crescent moon had risen. Stars winked bright and merciless.

A vast unsympathetic universe looked down upon the scene.

The Battlemaster felt very small and very alone. Eternity had passed since the day of the Empire, of that it was sure. But did the homeworid still live? Could it even find the home system after this enormous span of time? Questions pounded in its brain. The Secondary Form was undoubtedly lost. Time was a precious factor now, and further information about the situation was most important.

The Battlemaster found the cleared passage cut through the vegetation. Ruts and potholes convinced it that this was a route for transports, like the one it had seen in use earlier.

After a few miles the Battlemaster found another smaller passage that went off to the left side of the road.

If the four-wheel transports were popular, then there could be many paths like this, and the host creatures might have habitations scattered along them.

It seemed an odd, low-density way of life to the Battlemaster, but aliens were capable of anything.

The hopes of the Battlemaster were suddenly rewarded when it rounded a bend and came in sight of a lone building.

It was smaller than the other farm, but built of similar materials, with slab stone walls and slate roof. It had shuttered windows from which spilled a soft yellow light.

The Battlemaster crept closer. An optical organ was inserted through the shutter to peer inside.

Two bipeds, a male and a female, sat at a table consuming food from a number of receptacles set between them.

Also visible in the room was a data-output screen. Currently it showed a set of changing symbols in one corner while the rest of the screen was occupied with full-color video signal. The thing was instantly recognizable to the Battlemaster.

The Battlemaster withdrew the optical organ. There was a dish structure on the roof that bad to be for reception of signals in the UHF waveband range. This indicated a broadcast system for information of some complexity. Perhaps this was how the human centers of authority broadcast orders to guide the agricultural work force.

Whatever its purpose, it might prove to be perfect for the next step. What was needed was a few hours to rest the hostform and explore the tech-culture revealed here.

And at the same time these two host creatures could be taken for Secondary Forms.

There was a noise from the door; an animal was whining and scratching. It erupted into louder noises as the smell of the Battlemaster reached it more strongly.

The Battlemaster was familiar with the principle. Some lower lifeform that was kept to keep watch and drive off animal intruders.

The Battlemaster retired to the other side of the hedge and watched.

The animal uttered further sharp cries. One of the bipeds emitted another cry, almost as loud, with an unmistakable tone of irritation to it.

The unseen animal quietened.

The host bipeds had finished their meal. Slowly they packed away the food receptacles and doused others in a tub of water.

Then the door was opened and the guard animal released. It immediately scouted the area where the Battlemaster had stood and repeated its loud warning sound while searching for more scent.

Meanwhile the bipeds extinguished the lights and went up the stairs to an upper chamber.

The Battlemaster withdrew further into the trees.

The animal approached, sniffing its way toward the hidden Battlemaster.

What effect would the disappearance of the guard animal have on the human bipeds? Would they lock their door and take down weapons? Or might they come in search of the four-legged animal? Might they even come one at a time?

How quickly would news of the struggle at the farm have spread? Would these hostforms be aware of the danger?

It was hard to judge, and thus the Battlemaster withdrew further, accelerating its progress to take it away from the questing nose of the Doberman.

"Lucky," however, was the kind of dog that would never give up when something as stimulating as this took place. There was an alien animal smell, and it retreated before him. Lucky pressed on, determined to tree the thing and to bark and bark until the master came and shot it and left it to Lucky to rend and chew.

Two hundred meters from the house the Battlemaster decided to act. It was far enough to prevent sound from carrying. It understood well the sensitivity of human hearing.

It waited behind a tree as the quadruped animal caught up.

The animal sensed that the prey had stopped retreating, but this did not inspire caution in the small brain. It came on with a rush, growling as it accelerated through the undergrowth.

Alas for Lucky, this was not his day. A life in which he had rushed growling on many terrified animals now approached a terrifying terminus.

The Doberman rounded the tree and found the alien creature waiting.

It was a man that was not a man. A thing like nothing Lucky had ever smelled or seen or tasted before.

And then the Doberman was struck by tentacles that flashed like spears through its chest and belly.

Lucky died with his last bark choking off in his throat.

The hostform tore the limbs off the Doberman and chewed on one as the Battlemaster drove it back to the isolated farm of Jaad and Beetris Benuil. Soon it stood by the hedge once more, gazing in at the light.

Time passed, the small moon moved in the sky.

The door opened and one of the bipeds emerged, holding a light and emitting a loud single call.

The call was repeated and the Battlemaster understood that this call was to the dead guard animal whose flesh it chewed.

The Battlemaster noted that the hostform held no weapon. Carefully it calculated the distances.

Jaad Benuil advanced a few steps further from the door.

Now!

The Battlemaster surged over the hedge and onto the startled man.