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normally.
    He kept his eye on the scanner. The raiding party had stopped. They must know he’d armed a protective ring around the house and the fields. Did they have torpedo launchers?
    “I need them closer,” he muttered.
    “I know how to do that,” she said with the same quiet calm that she’d summoned on the patio.
    His head jerked toward her. “No!”
    Ignoring the protest, she went on. “I can go outside—pretend I’m trespassing on the property. They’ll jump at the chance to get their hands on me.”
    He stared at her, astonished. “Don’t even think about it!”
    “Do you have a better idea?” she asked, her voice remarkably steady.
    He tried to think of one. Spenserville might send help. But he couldn’t count on that—or on reinforcements coming in time. He looked in the weapons locker again. He had his own portable torpedo launchers. Not the most desirable of weapons, particularly since he’d bought them when he was almost out of money. He’d settled for the older models that the high command had taken out of service. Too bad he hadn’t had a chance to test them.
    Cursing under his breath, he thought about the tricky procedure for setting them up. He’d have to do it outside where the explosive gases couldn’t collect. If he used a light, the intruders would see what he was doing. If he tried to work in the dark, he could blow himself up.
    He raised his gaze to Kasi’s. “I can’t risk a light. If I tell you what to do, could you set up a torpedo launcher?”
    She managed a little nod.
    He pulled out the heavy case, opened it, and showed her the parts that had to fit together. Then he closed the carrier again and hoisted it to his shoulder. Outside, he picked a patch of ground partly screened by bushes.
    He didn’t tell her the danger of an accidental explosion. Instead, he explained each step while she fitted the parts together, her white fingers moving in the moonlight as she fit the launcher into the tripod and went through the check sequence. Holding his breath, he lifted a missile from the case and helped her guide it into the tube. Then he attached the computer cable. With a silent prayer, he pressed the activation button.
    For heartbeats, nothing happened, and he thought it had all been for nothing. Then the screen flickered to life. As he tuned the probe, the same three blips he’d seen earlier came into focus.
    A hissing noise overhead was followed by an explosion to the right. The slat-eaters were using rockets. Less sophisticated than computer-guided torpedoes—but just as lethal when they hit their target.
    Kasi screamed as dirt and plant debris flew through the air. Link pushed her to the ground and worked the controls, adjusting the targeting. There was no time for fine-tuning, he realized as another explosion took off the roof above his left shoulder. All he could do was press the launch button and watch as the torpedo streaked into the sky.
    The explosion was a lot more powerful than the previous two. The ground shook, and the night itself seemed to explode. Then, suddenly, everything went silent. He raised his head and looked at the targeting screen. Where the three blips had been there was only a concave depression— a crater twenty meters across.
    It was over. The intruders were dead, and he’d killed them. His own people. At least he’d been spared from having to look into their eyes.
    Beside him, Kasi whimpered, and when she raised her head, he saw blood seeping from a long gash on her temple.
    “Damn the bastards!” he exclaimed, quickly moving to assess the extent of her injury.
    “I’m all right,” she told him, then slumped against his shoulder in a dead faint.
    He managed to lift her, managed to carry her into the house without the leg giving way. His bed was the closest place he could lay her. Turning on the light, he examined the wound. It looked as if she’d been hit by a flying chunk of the building. Quickly he soaked a towel in water and cleaned the