g for footsteps, watching for dim figures in the dark,
even his nose was waiting to detect the odor of a cigarette.

According to the paper he had been lucky enough to read in the
Intelligence offices when they weren't looking, he knew the Captain of
the guards should be making an inspection about then. The seconds hung
suspended, reluctant to pass, and Aron waited.

The Captain finally showed up, walking briskly, a smile on his face.
This smile was rudely erased and all future occasions for smiles removed
by a swiftly moving figure that plunged a knife into his throat before
his mind could translate the shock into a cry of alarm.

More movement on the path and a new Captain of the guards emerged,
walking just as briskly, but in a new direction.

The People's Republic's base occupied the narrow end of the valley, with
a canyon entrance serving as the apex of the triangle it covered. Near
this apex were the buildings, the dozens of barracks and administrative
buildings, all dwarfed by the massive concrete warehouses set around
them against the hills. In these warehouses were the fuel, food and
munitions of the enemy.

Below these buildings were the ships, first the rows of the 27 warships
and then the 40 or so cargo and troop ships. These supply ships made up
the base of the triangle. From the air these ships looked like a tiny
forest of needles stuck upright in the ground, but from close range on
the ground, where Aron walked in the captain's uniform, they were
mammoth towers of steel--again, a matter of scale.

He emerged from the sentry lines near the cargo ships. These were all
sealed and unoccupied and he passed the rows of them without a glance.
It was a long walk, for the ships were hundreds of feet apart. The open
field where they rested had the rough ground of a meadow, making his
attempted military stride more of a burlesque jerky gait while he tried
not to stumble.

There was a guard outside the airlock of each of the warships, for the
crews remained aboard constantly. These guards were standing around
talking to friends or moving restlessly about.

The sentries saluted Aron as he marched by, for they could see the brass
on his uniform gleaming in the dark. He found what he wanted, a group of
four guards talking by one airlock. They snapped to attention as he
approached.

The base had expanded so rapidly, with new units and men being shifted
constantly, that Aron counted on the men not knowing exactl