The front doors opened and a slim blonde with a slightly worried expression walked in, looking about.  She espied Petersen at the reception desk and made her way over to her.

"Excuse me, I'm here to..." her voice reverberated across the desk.

If Petersen had been wearing a gun, Thelma's stay with the company would have stopped dead, literally, right there.  As it was, it was fortunate the high-backed desk stood between them as Petersen whirled, delivering a look of pure venom.  Thelma took a deep breath, unnerved, but pressed on.

"I'm here to see Mr. Ham Tyler.  About the secretary position."

"What the hell makes you think you'll get it?"  Her voice was cold and distant, but the anger in those frost-blue eyes was unmistakable.

"Mr. Ham... Mr. Tyler, offered me the job last night."

"I think you've made a bad mistake, lizard..."  Petersen advanced on her, coming out from behind the desk, "We're hired to KILL your kind."

Thelma backed away uncertainly, but refused to turn around and leave, as Petersen was obviously insisting she do.

"I think I should speak to Mr. Tyler," Thelma ceased her retreat.  Petersen took another step closer, the glint in her eye, behind the sudden unpleasant smile, promising murder.

"PETERSEN!!"

Tyler appeared in the doorway to his office, his dark eyes regarding her forebodingly.  Against all her instincts, Petersen halted, but the black scowl never left her features as she glared suspiciously from Thelma to her superior.

"She says she'd here about the job," Petersen was obviously sceptical.

"She is."

The scowl changed to a look of startlement, then her expression closed and her thoughts were hidden.

"This is Thelma Green," Tyler informed her steadily, "You're to show her the ropes, Petersen."

"Sir."

Tyler nodded slightly to Thelma, indicating the situation was 'all clear', and went back into his office.

The alien woman eyed the human carefully, then edged past her towards the desk.

"If you could just tell me what has to be done," she said, "I think I will be all right."

Petersen joined her behind the desk, her manner studiously remote.  Speaking only when necessary, and then only in short, clipped sentences, she acquainted Thelma with the office procedure.   After a time Thelma forced a smile and assured her hostile tutor that she had everything under control.  Petersen nodded sharply, took the few steps to Tyler's door, and knocked.

"Come."

Petersen went inside, shutting the door behind her.

"May I have a word with you sir?"

The characteristic eyebrow quirked at her.

"It's about... the new secretary."

"What about her?"

His coolness broke her reserve.

"Damn it, she's one of them!"

"I know."

"What the hell is she doing here?"

"That is not your business."  He picked up a file and started looking through it, a gesture of dismissal which she ignored.

"I spent the last five years trying to get those sons of bitches off my planet, and here I find you hiring one of them!"

"You're out of line, Petersen!"

She fell stonily silent, defiantly observing him those aloof blue eyes.  Her body was held stiffly, hands half curled into fists.

"Is that all?"

Silence.

"I said, is that all, Petersen?"

"I watched those bastards destroy this planet for five years... sir," she said quietly, though her bearing was still rigid, "So did you.  I just want to know why she's here."

Tyler was about to fire her altogether, but checked the impulse.  Petersen, obviously, had known the Visitors only as The Enemy, whilst he'd had the advantage (such as it was) of working with Willie.  To have fought so hard for survival, then find one of the enemy within your own walls must have been a little hard to take.  He leaned back in his chair, never breaking the eye contact between himself and his staff member.

"There are good Visitors, and there are bad Visitors," he explained patiently, feeling vaguely ridiculous, "And she is one of the good ones."

"How can you tell?"

"She's married to a lizard I once worked with in the resistance.  I vouch for him, and if she's with him, she's safe."

"You worked with a Visitor?"  Her disgust was evident.

"Actually, he worked with us, in LA.  Against his own people," he emphasized.  It felt decidedly odd to be defending a lizard, and he wanted this conversation terminated as soon as possible.

At last, Petersen looked away, releasing a slow breath.  This was something new to her -- having a lizard as an ally -- and it did not sit comfortably with her at all.  But Mr. Tyler said the Visitor was clear, and she trusted Mr. Tyler's judgement.

"Is that all Petersen?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then you're to leave Mrs. Green alone, and get to work upstairs."

"Yes, sir."

Petersen about-faced and left.  In the foyer, she paused at the reception desk, staring at the slender blonde humanoid with ill-concealed disgust and puzzlement.

"Mr. Tyler says he knows your... husband," she said after a time.

"Yes.  Willie and he fought together in Los Angeles," Thelma supplied warily.  "Willie says Mr. Ham helped to save his life once."

That information took Petersen by surprise, and she hesitated while she digested it.  Some unexpected aspects to Ham Tyler's character were surfacing here, which she would have to consider carefully.  She looked back at the alien.  This... Thelma... seemed harmless enough, and if Tyler had hired her then...

Petersen pulled a face, still not firmly convinced, and strode to the lift.

"Any calls from Mr. Hathaway," she instructed at the last moment, "And Mr. Tyler's not in, all right?"

"All right," nodded Thelma, and Petersen regarded her thoughtfully as the elevator doors closed.
 
 

He was young to be in command of a Mothership, but he was ambitious and skilled, and he came from one of the most powerful families on the Home Planet.  Many of his ancestors had been great warriors, a heritage of which he was proud, and he aimed to be at least as great.  He would win victories for his planet that no other had ever achieved, including that traitor nebulously referred to as The Leader.

Kahlil grimaced derisively.  Some 'Leader' -- to abort a conquest on the basis of a 'religious experience', and reduce their people to bargaining with warm-bloods.  It was a disgrace, to the Leader and to his race, and it was against Kahlil's entire code of honour to be a part of it.  He was a patriot, his loyalty lying first with his planet and his people, and only secondarily with their figurehead: and that was all the justification he needed for what he was doing.

Not, he thought sourly and with an uncomfortable hint of desperation, that he really knew what he was doing.  At first when he had started supplying the renegade groups on Earth with arms and medical equipment, his plan had been to consolidate them and lead them in a last-ditch attack on Earth.  Six months later, however, he found that he did not have the grand solution that his followers thought he did.  It was all very well to say you could consolidate the widely scattered patriot groups in a victorious offensive; it was quite another to find a way to implement the plan.  His own position was not yet open, and although he had much support, the Leader still held sway.  It was all he could do to keep his plot in relative secrecy until he could find a way.

Kahlil rubbed tiredly at a patch of dry, green scale, the after-effect for some of wearing a human mask.  Still deep in thought, he reached for the jar of moisturizer and massaged it into his scales.  Only twenty-seven, he told his reflection wryly, and you already have wrinkles.
 
 

Tyler completed one file of papers and slapped it into his out tray bad-temperedly.  The tiring effects of his training had worn off, in fact, and his grouchiness was now attributable to his frustration at still having to spend time in the office.  In a defiant gesture he dragged off the loathed tie and flung it over his desk lamp and, if he had bothered to think about it, would have ben almost disappointed that it didn't spontaneously combust.

The door opened without warning, and the first thing that struck Tyler was that perhaps he could at least berate Thelma for not announcing callers.  Then he looked up into Donovan's smiling face, and his day was rendered unsalvageable.

"What do you want this time, Gooder?"

"Just interested in what you do for a living, Ham."

"I'm a busy man, and you're in my way."  Tyler grabbed the next file on the stack and flipped it open.

"Gimme a break, Ham, I'm bored."

Tyler sighed, refraining from admitting that was HIS trouble too.  Instead, he pushed himself to his feet and headed for the door.   Donovan, curious, followed, as Tyler directed him to the lift and keyed for the basement.

"Nice set-up," observed Donovan, inspecting the sound-and-bullet-proof walls and ceiling.

"Here," Tyler casually tossed a pistol to the newsman and pointed at the target range as he headed back to the lift, "Play with these for a while."

Grinning boyishly, Donovan tested the weight of the gun in his hand, then aimed and emptied the clip into a target.  Every bullet hit the mark.  Pleased with himself he reloaded and set about shooting patterns into the boards.

Tyler stepped out of the lift, but was stopped in his tracks as Petersen strode out of his office with a slightly distracted expression, which dissolved as she sighted him.

"There's a message on band two," she explained, making for the lift, "Urgent, from Longview."  Tyler was back in the lift in a moment, and he wasted no time in shouldering past the still-opening doors as they opened at the communications room.  Chris was at the radio already, asking questions of the man at the other end.

"How long ago?" he was saying.  Tyler positioned himself behind Chris, who pointed to a notepad which carried the story.

Barrett's group had gone out to Silver Lake again after the discovery of Jeffries' massacred unit.  Initially, they had found few clues to the Visitors whereabouts, but there had been vehicle tracks that looked suspiciously like Visitor Land Transports.  Carrying on with the reconnaissance they had followed the tracks for several days along the Toutle River to Spirit Lake, just north of Mount St. Helens, only to be ambushed.  Barrett and his group had managed to withdraw, but not without casualties -- four of his unit had been left for dead, two others suffering injuries.  Barrett was calling in now for further instructions and, in anticipation of the order to strike, to request back-up troops.

Tyler leaned towards the set.  "Barrett?  Tyler here."

"We made a real mess of it Tyler," came the distorted response, "Sorry."

"Just be ready when we get there," warned Tyler, "We'll be coming in tonight with back-up and arms.  I want your people rested and ready to go in tomorrow morning.  See if you can two of them out now to pinpoint the Visitor position.  And I want enough trucks to transport the back-up.  Do you have something with a cannon mount?"

"We can get one."

"Good.  I've got a little... surprise that'll blow those lizards to kingdom come."  Tyler's smile promised it.

Barrett chuckled on the other end.  "I'll look forward to that.  We'll see you tonight then.  Longview out."

"Seattle out," acknowledged Chris, before turning the set over to Petersen.

"Well?"

Tyler turned at Chris' question, and fired off a a list of names -- people he thought would be suitable to the job at hand.  Chris nodded.

"McFarlane and Jackson too.  They did real good on the test field," Chris paused, waiting for Tyler to add something.

"You feel up to it?" Tyler regarded him with a hint of amusement.  Faber grinned broadly.

"Never better.  Thought you'd never ask, though.  You comin'?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Tyler informed him.  He cast his eye briefly across the room, his gaze coming to rest on Petersen, sitting at Band Two, motionless except for a rhythmic drumming of fingertips on the table top, betraying her restlessness.

"How soon can you be ready Petersen?" Tyler demanded suddenly.  Petersen looked up at him, but displayed commendable restraint.

"I'm ready now, sir," she said evenly.

Tyler nodded shortly, believing it.  She was even in suitable dress for it, her attired hardly varying from the bluejeans, pullover and khaki combat jacket she'd worn on their first meeting.

"Report to Cooper at 1800 hours at the training field."

"Sir."

"Chris, I want you to get that team together, brief them and organize the transport."

"You got it, brother."  Chris disappeared into his own partitioned office at one end of the communications room, while Tyler keyed for the lift.  It opened, to reveal Donovan reclining nonchalantly against the wall.

"Got anything else?" he asked innocently.  Tyler did not take the time to be irritated by Gooder's manner.

"If you want a fire fight," offered Tyler, "I've got something else."

Donovan was immediately interested, straightening up and taking a step towards Tyler.  "What is it?"

"Some of those lizards just don't want to give in.  We're gonna encourage them a little."

"Mind if I tag along?  Life's getting a bit boring covering union strikes at the docks."

"You know where the training field is?"

"Yeah, just a few miles out from your place, isn't it?"

"Be there at 1800 hours, you're in.  I won't wait for you if you're late."

The elevator stopped at ground level and both men got out, heading for the car park.

"Mr. Ha.. er... Mr. Tyler!"

Tyler half turned to look at Thelma.

"Mr. Hathaway phoned again, and said if you won't see him today he's cancelling his account."

The mercenary turned away again.  "Tell him Carter Security Services are pretty good."

"Ah... yes, Mr. Tyler."

Outside, Donovan jumped into this sportscar convertible and gunned the engine to life.  He watched as Ham's blue BMW pulled out ahead of him and roared away, and it occurred to Donovan that if HE had been bored with peacetime, then the inactivity must have been driving Ham Tyler stark raving mad.
 
 

"You'll be all right alone, Willie?" she asked.  Willie, holding a tiny kitten which he was attempting to feed with an eyedropper (and getting soaking wet in the process) nodded and patted the ginger fur.

"Goliath is no trouble," he assured her.

Smiling, Alex stripped her gloves off and hurried to the house to greet her husband.

She paused in the hallway as Ham emerged from the bedroom clad in his black-outs.

"Going training again?" she asked tolerantly, then she saw the automatic held comfortably in his right hand, and she fell silent.

"What's that for?" she managed to say at last.  It was a stupid question, and she knew it, but it was all she could think of at the moment.

"Visitor party at Spirit Lake," explained Ham briefly, suddenly aware of what that meant to Alex.

"I thought you employed people to take care of that," she said, her tone remote.

"These lizards have already wiped out one unit and shot up another one.  I have to go."

Alex regarded him, tight-lipped.  There was a lot she wanted to say to him right now -- she wanted to abuse him for tearing into a battle field where many men had already died;  she wanted to shout him down for just going, without warning; she wanted to tell him he didn't have the right to put himself on the firing line, not now they were married, not when she had so much at stake.  But saying any of that would not make him stay, and in any case, just as Tyler had nothing to do with her surgery, she had no input into Ham's business dealings.

Alex turned away from him, arms folded in anger and an unconscious gesture of fear.  Tyler took a step towards her, but found he could think of nothing to say.

"I'll be back in a few days," was all he could muster.

"Yeah."

He paused and lifted a hand to touch her face, but abandoned the gesture half way and he strode out to the car.

The sound of the engine brought Alex out of her reverie, and with a start she realized that Ham was leaving.  She hurried to the front door and threw it open.

"Ham!"

The car halted in the street, and Tyler glanced towards her expressionlessly.  Alex still wasn't sure what she wanted to say, and in the end settled on another useless and somewhat stupid comment.

"Be careful!"

At last, Tyler gave her a small smile.  "I'll be home in a few days," he promised, more gently this time, and with more conviction.

Alex watched the BMW drive to the end of the street, then disappear around the corner.  She was irritated to find herself shaking, and hugged herself against the feeling.

"Damn!"

With a heavy sigh, she composed herself and wheeled about to go back to the surgery.
 
 

"Things are going well," he reported, walking alongside Tyler as he headed towards Chris.  "The troop carrier should be here in a few minutes, Chris said, and as you can see..." he indicated the activity ahead, "That cannon's nearly loaded up.  Where did you get that baby anyway?"

"Prize of war," said Tyler, "The lizards we got it from didn't need it any more."

Donovan smiled.  "I was wondering where you would've got the money for it.  Come to that, where DID you get the money for all this?"  A sweeping hand indicated the first carrier, the second Chinook which was just landing, and the arsenal being loaded in around the cannon.

"I was a mercenary for seventeen years before the war," explained Tyler irritably.  "You don't expect I was spending all the money in Angola, do you?"

"Aha!  A Swiss bank account.  You know, I always suspected you had one," Donovan's tone was mischievous and Tyler chose to ignore it.

"Ready to go Chris?"

The big man reslung his gun over his shoulder and joined his partner.  "All set," he confirmed, "Just got to get going."

"Good.  Donovan," Tyler had to look up to meet the taller man's eyes, "Just remember -- this time you're in MY unit.  You follow my orders.  Got it?"

Donovan spread his hands and looked injured.  "Did I ever doubt it?"

Tyler grunted sceptically.  "Load up on the carrier... COOPER!"

"Sir?" came the return bellow.

"Load up -- we're going out."

"Sir."

Tyler made to follow Donovan to the transport, but Chris' hand on his shoulder slowed him for a second.

"How did Alex take it?"

"Fine," said Tyler, in a dark tone that indicated it wasn't fine at all.  Chris simply nodded, patted Ham's shoulder and went on to see that Cooper was getting the job done.

Tyler paused a moment longer, then deliberately eradicated all thought of Alex from his mind.  At times like these he didn't need distractions.  He joined the troops on the carrier, noting that Petersen sat quietly on board, displaying none of the nervous tension one or two of the young lads were showing.  A real iron lady, this one, he thought, and climbed up front with the pilot.

"Okay Davis, scramble."

Both enormous helicopters lifted into the early evening sky and headed south to Spirit Lake.
 
 

The chopper set down and Tyler started awake.  He'd fallen easily into his old habit of snatching a moment's sleep when possible -- God knew he wouldn't be sleeping much tonight.  The throb of the rotors slowed and died, and Tyler climbed into the body of the carrier.

"There's nothing much to do until morning, so eat, find somewhere to bunk down and stay ready for the next debriefing," he instructed, and jumped out to find Barrett.

"They're still out there," reported Barrett in the command tent, "Pretty well holed up just west of Smith Creek, but they don't look like moving in a hurry.  I've left a lookout -- he'll radio in if they change position."

"What's their status?"

"Firm.  They seem to have plenty of firepower."

"They'll think twice when they see ours," Tyler glanced out the tent flaps to Chris who was now guiding the unloading of the laser cannon by the fading light.  Donovan was right there with him, supporting the heavier end of the weapon while it was manoeuvred into position on the specially designed truck.  Tyler turned back to his operative.  "You've got those maps?"

The remainder of the evening was spent poring over the maps, devising and rejecting numerous strategies.  The work was interrupted by a troop briefing, then Faber and Donovan joined him and they worked out the fine details of the plan.

Natasha Petersen sat on the tailgate of one of the trucks that, tomorrow morning, would take them into battle against the Visitors.  She sat quietly, one arm cradling the Armalite, regarding the peak of Mount St. Helens.  The mountain had been the cause of many deaths when it had erupted in 1980, and was now to oversee the death of many more.  It was not a fact that disturbed Petersen in the least.  She had seen a lot of death and destruction in the last five years, and the thought of it did not even give her nightmares any more.  Her overriding emotion right now was anticipation.  Life had been too quiet, and there was so little for someone of her limited talents to do.  Once, she might have managed, but since the second invasion all ability, and perhaps even desire, to lead a normal existence had evaporated.

Her gaze shifted past the scarred mountain to the horizon where, many miles away, the borders of Washington and Oregon met.  That was her place of baptism; a stretch of land that held both horror and nostalgia.  Sometimes she was struck with a loathing of the place and all that had happened there, but on the whole she looked upon it with a certain amount of satisfaction.  She and David Minowa had struck some hard blows against the aliens in their day, and she had learned to enjoy the work.  It was a test of skill and cunning, and it was hard to deny the thrill of fast-flowing adrenaline.  If only so many didn't have to die in the process.

Petersen dismissed the thought peremptorily, it having no place in her mood now.  The sky was darkening rapidly, stars glittering profusely against the black, and she settled against the side of the truck to sleep.  They had an early start scheduled for the morning, and it was best that she was rested for the day ahead.
 
 

Beside the truck which supported the cannon stood two of the younger and less experienced members of Tyler's team, itching to be embroiled in some honest-to-God action, which was why they were with Faber and not either of the teams heading for Smith Creek.

"They say it's still active," said one in a whisper, nodding at the mountain.  "Looks quiet enough though.  You think it's still bubbling away under all that granite?"

"Yep," Chris dropped down unexpectantly between them, cheerful in his observation, "In fact, it could blow right now, while we're all standin' around yappin' about it."

The youth was wide-eyed.  "You think so?"

Chris considered the question solemnly.  "Well, all that rock's gotta spit up sometime, right?  I mean, one shot from this baby," he patted the cannon affectionately, "And... b-o-o-m."  His broad, hairy face conveyed the magnitude of it perfectly, "You know?"

"Jesus, you don't... really think..."  The boy trailed off uncertainly.

"Naahhh."  Chris brushed the possibility easily away and climbed back onto the truck, leaving the two youths to wonder.  Faber shook his head, wondering himself if he and Tyler had ever been that green, and deciding no, they hadn't.
 
 

Tyler gave the signal, and his own group fanned out, using the vegetation for cover.  To his left, Mike Donovan covered ground with agility, his sneakered feet making little sound on the turf.  To his right, Petersen darted up the slight incline as sure-footedly as any animal, completely comfortable with the gun crooked in her arm and, for all her light build, seemingly unaware of the weight of it or the supply of ammunition filling the copious pockets of her ballet jacket.  Tyler had an instinctive feeling she'd be a cool-headed and capable soldier, but he wanted her within sight, to keep tabs on her progress.

He paused a moment, left hand against a sapling to steady himself as he switched his gun from his shoulder to his right hand.  Holding it firmly at this side, Tyler continued towards the west, the increasing flow of adrenaline sharpening his senses.

The first shot was fired as dawn broke behind them -- a Visitor watchguard saw the movement in the trees and loosed an ineffective bolt of energy at it.  One moment later and a return shot toppled the alien from his perch.   In a matter of minutes, the exchange began in earnest.

Petersen threw herself flat to the ground, firing up the slop as she did, avoiding the spear of laserlight that seared overhead and dropping the red-clad Visitor with a well-aimed volley.  Even before the alien had fallen she rolled aside, not giving anyone the chance to pinpoint her position.  There was laser fire to her right and a cry of pain that was cut abruptly short, but she ignored the obvious conclusion and darted ahead.  Her wiry frame zigzagged through the undergrowth, pausing only when she reached a thick-trunked tree which had, until recently, offered shelter to a Visitor guard, and made a brief scan of the area.  She could just make out Tyler to the left, picking off the red uniforms at his leisure and homing in on the alien encampment; further along she could hear the gun of the stranger, Donovan, guarding Tyler's right flank.  Their group was sweeping to the northwest, while Barrett's team was sweeping more westwards, the aim being to herd the Visitors up the naked face of Mount St. Helen's and around to the right, where Faber's ambush lay in wait.  The Visitors were disorganized, and many were dying simply by trying to regroup at the camp.  They'd be running soon, and with luck they'd be running in the right direction.

A careless sound alerted her, and she fired as she crouched, knocking the Visitor backwards into the dirt.  She was gone before others could follow the telltale report.

Tyler heard the shot and whirled about, seeing the alien crash to the ground, a smoking row of holes across its chest.  He took off up the slope, grateful now for all the training he'd been putting in.  He reached Petersen's previous position in moments, and cast about for her objective.  He could just make out her swiftly moving form, scuttling confidently towards the enemy encampment, pausing only to pick off stray Visitors who broke cover.  Tyler turned and, seeing Donovan, signalled for the other man to follow.  Both set off in Petersen's direction but, when Tyler looked a second time, Petersen had successfully passed the Visitor position and was threading her way to a vantage point above the camp.

To the east, Barrett's group were closing in, spraying liberal gunfire along the alien position.  The Visitors began to move, trying at first to retreat up the mountain in order to circle south, only to be deterred by a sniper who lobbed a haphazard row of grenades along their escape route.  An attempt to bulldoze through the gunfire from the south was thwarted by a similar stunt as Tyler, joined now by Donovan and a number of his team, created a solid wall of firepower, and the aliens were forced to double back.  Tyler followed, arcing around to the left, expecting Petersen to join him as soon as she could.

She took a few minutes to drop down to his position, but she appeared nearby before long, grimy and grim-faced, but still sure-footed nonetheless.

A sudden blitz of alien fire exploded through the trees and Tyler lost sight of her as he threw himself down, his gaze raking the terrain ahead.  The Visitors had finally managed to consolidate themselves to a degree and had stopped their westbound flight.  The doors of their mostly crippled transport were flung open and a smaller model of Chris' laser cannon was set up on a support strut, searing the countryside in a wide arc.

Tyler clasped his gun in both hands and moved forward, still prostrate, looking for a vantage point.  The crackle of controlled energy passed overhead once more, and he pressed close to the dirt, feeling the heat of that volley.

He caught sight of the halted truck, inspecting the buckled wheels which had originally slowed it to a mere crawl and had now collapsed entirely, leaving the vehicle useless.  Chris' optimum targeting site was still further west, and up the side of Mount St. Helens itself, but the renegades did not look like accommodating them at the moment.  Ejecting his spent clip and inserting a new one, Tyler scanned the enemy area once more and inched forward on his elbows.

Donovan guessed at Tyler's intentions, and manoeuvred around to the right of the mercenary's position.  He caught only the barest glimpse of the dark, powerful figure advancing on its prey at a deliberate pace, before stationing himself to one side of the Visitor force.  The mini-cannon made another devastating strafing run of the area and Donovan had to lie flat to the ground to avoid the burst, which was coming in much lower as the Visitors realized the attackers' strategy.  The sweep went over him, over Tyler's position and to the other end of the arc, then made a return sweep.  Just before it reached him again, Donovan loosed a burst of gunfire at them, sidestepping rapidly down the slope then throwing himself down to slip under the laser fire that followed him.

It was the distraction Tyler wanted.  Gun spitting tracer into the back of the Visitor transport, Tyler broke cover and strafed the cannon-hold.  Covering fire erupted from either side of him, driving would-be counter-strikers away from the truck.  Tyler darted aside, diving into a shoulder roll to distract enemy aim, and bringing him to the mini-cannon, his objective.  It was a heavy instrument, and damned difficult to move, but he managed to haul it from the transport, minus its support strut, to aim it into the retreating aliens' rear line.  One burst crackled out from it and the renegades scuttled unknowingly towards Chris' position.  Tyler could hear Barrett's group coming in, too, driving the Visitors not only right, but up onto the wasteland of the mountain face.

A sound came from the far side of the truck, and Tyler abandoned the cannon, gripping his favoured automatic instead as he turned and fired.  The Visitor was lifted bodily from the ground as the double impact of two volleys hit him, before gravity dropped him back to earth with a thud.

Tyler was unsurprised to see Petersen step out of the cover of the trees, warily moving her own weapon in a search pattern over the area.

The unmistakable whine of the massive laser cannon could be heard from the northwest as Chris got his chance to indulge in a shooting gallery, and a wolfish grin spread across Tyler's dirt-streaked face.

"That's got 'em."

"Don't they get a chance to surrender?"  Tyler looked around at the voice, and regarded Donovan stonily as he joined them, dusting soot and dirt from his jeans and vest.

"They were given the option weeks ago, Gooder," snapped Tyler.  "They killed sixteen of my people.  That means no more options."

Donovan shrugged, curiously noting the look of complete agreement on the harsh face of the young girl beside Tyler, but making no comment.  He didn't think she'd been a secretary at heart, and there was no reason to believe that this young lady in dirty fatigues was not every bit as dangerous as Tyler himself.

The laser cannon whined again, shaking the earth with the impact of it.

"Christ," muttered Tyler, looking distrustfully up at the blank face of Mount St. Helens, "I hope Chris doesn't set this mountain off again."
 

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