A single osmium shot from Jensen's cannon met the starship in the instant it dumped its second stick of bombs. The projectile had started to tumble as it ripped an exit hole through the top of the spacer's hull amidships. During the instant of its glowing passage, the round tore through the power boards of the hyperspace inverter. At the speed of a slow comet, with its cargo bay open to destroy even the semblance of streamlining, the vessel tried to plow through a planetary atmosphere. Its fragments burned white as they tumbled across the sky.

The debris held Ortschugin transfixed for long seconds. At last he glanced down at the glowing tracks of the bombs which the spacer had released before it dissolved. Cursing, incredulous, the First Officer grabbed for the intercom again.

TheKatynForest was in the war after all.

Churchie Dwyer did not bother to look around. He thrust himself out of the trench with his eyes still screwed shut against the pain. "All right, Del," he said in a squeaky voice. "We're all right." He turned, crouching on all fours, and slitted his lids enough to permit him to examine the brew vat.

Their side of the ridge had not been part of the intended target. It was well within the scatter range of the clusters, however. The air was sharp with residues of the explosives. The two bomblets which had gone off directly over the tank had opened ragged holes in the upper sheet steel.

None of the shrapnel had penetrated the bottom of the fuel tank. Del and Churchie were unmarked- by the bombs themselves.

The trench hissed and steamed with the half-cured mash still dripping onto the coals. The mercenaries' uniforms were of tough material, but not all the coals had been quenched when the men threw themselves down. Churchie could feel the cracking of fabric that had melted into the flesh of his shoulders and buttocks. His hands and scalp had not been exposed to the coals directly, but the steaming brew had parboiled all his bare skin.