He was at one end of a large glazed-surface field, clearly designed for a great deal of traffic. Off to his right were a half dozen spaceships, most of them medium-sized freighter types, and a few official-looking VTOL aircraft. To his left, farther away and separated from the rest of the 'port by a wire-mesh fence, was a sight that made his stomach turn. Squatting in neat rows were at least thirty Corsairs, the long-range scout/fighters that formed the shock front of the Ryqril war machine. At one to three crew and four support personnel per craft, that meant the aliens had a garrison of two hundred in this one part of Plinry alone. A hundred meters past the Corsairs was another fence, a sturdier-looking one, which encircled the entire 'port, forming a barrier between the glaze-surface and the sparsely wooded grassland beyond. Directly ahead of him was a complex of several buildings, clearly the 'port's administrative and maintenance center. One of the buildings appeared to be a hangar; another—near the Corsairs—looked like a barracks.

And waiting at the foot of the ramp were two men in gray-green uniforms.

Caine's heart skipped a beat, but he continued down without pausing. A Corsair could have made the trip from Earth in a little over four days, he knew, and if the government had succeeded in breaking the Resistance leaders quickly enough all of Plinry could know about him by now. But once again there was nothing to do but keep walking.

The taller of the two men took a step forward as Caine approached. "Mr. Rienzi?" he asked. When Caine nodded, he went on, "I'm Prefect Jamus Galway, head of Planetary Security; this is Officer Ragusin, my aide. Welcome to Plinry, sir."

"Thank you. Do you always come out to the 'port to greet tourists?"

Galway gave a smile that was well on its way to becoming a simper, and that