The rifle hammered in a quick burst, then clicked empty. The officer fell but was still alive. He raised his laser as Blade reached into his pouch for another stone and threw. The stone cracked into the officer's cheek as he fired. The laser beam passed close enough to Blade to singe hair and one ear, then went on to crisp leaves and blacken bark on the trees behind him. Blade jumped up, moving faster than the dying officer could follow him with the laser's muzzle, closed, and rammed his bayonet into the man's throat.

By this time the soldier on top of the woman, in spite of his lust, had realized something was badly wrong. He was raising himself on his arms as Blade loomed over him. He looked up, lust and ox-like stupidity giving way to fear on his broad face, as Blade raised his rifle. At the last moment Blade remembered a bayonet thrust might go right through the soldier and hit the woman, so he reversed the rifle and struck with the butt. It crashed into the base of the soldier's skull, breaking his neck and slamming him forward onto the woman so hard she screamed again.

Blade put down the rifle, heaved the dead body off the woman, and bent over her. She was barely conscious, with bruises between her thighs, a cut lip, and a long shallow gouge across one shoulder. Her eyes were glazed and her breath was coming in quick, shallow gasps.

Blade unhooked his last victim's canteen and put it on the ground within the woman's reach. Then he picked up the man's rifle and switched its magazine to his own. Finally he began pulling off the soldier's clothes and putting them on.

The dead soldier was shorter than Blade but nearly as heavy-framed, so his clothes more or less fit. Even the helmet went on comfortably enough. When he'd finished, Blade wouldn't have won any Best-Dressed Man awards, but he did look much less like a caveman.

By the time Blade was dressed, the woman was sitting up and holding the canteen to her lips with one hand.