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minds of his own time.  But his lines were delivered with heartfelt sincerity and a passion that was genuine.  "None of us wanted this fight.  All we wanted was Peace—and the right to live our lives free from slavery and injustice.  But we will do what we have to do." Grant struggled to rein in his emotions as he concluded his speech.  "Regardless of what happens on Waa, I am proud to be a part of this army.  I am proud of each and every one of you."
    The fighters assembled before him stood taller.  Several nodded.  The fear and worry that had been so plain in their faces was replaced by stony glares of resolution and determination.
    Titan broke the short silence that followed.
    "Where do you want to use us?"  The resolution and commitment were palpable in his tone.  It was clear that the former violent was ready to fight now .
    At Grant's insistence, Titan had attached himself to the group of fifty dindin warriors from Telgora.  Even though he could not share in their mass mind, the ex-prisoner seemed to fit in with the group of gray-fleshed Telgorans better than with the soldiers and pilots on the ship. 
    "I'm just getting to that," Grant answered.  "I want everyone to listen up closely.  You will need to brief your teams on what to expect when we land and what each of their roles will be.  If anyone has any questions as I go through this, now is the time to ask.  Anyone have any more questions before we start?"
    No one did.
    "It should be no surprise to any of you that we're hoping to catch the Minith with their pants down," he said. 
    His announcement was met with blank stares, and it took him a moment to realize his error. 
    "Let me explain what that means." He sighed.

 
     
    CHAPTER 4
     
     
    Rala marched quickly up the steps and into the corridor that led to Governor Truk's offices.  Outwardly, she presented the calm, aloof manner that most Minith had come to equate with her appearance.  As the minister for trade, she was a powerful player among the higher echelons of Minith society and commerce.  In addition to the power she wielded, Rala was a highly attractive, widowed female .   These dual elements of power and beauty contributed to make her increasingly popular among her race. 
    But her outward calm was overshadowed by inner turmoil. 
    Rala clawed the tiny device hidden within the secret pocket she had sewn into the hem of her blouse.  Reassured that it was still there, she entered the governor's outer office and presented herself to Ghin.
    "Hello, Ghin."
    "Ah, Trade Minister Rala," the governor's aide responded.  His slick, overly formal tone grated on Rala, as it always did.  The male was interested in her, but was intelligent enough to know he did not have a chance.  As a result, he acted as if she was beneath his consideration.  Although it caused their limited interactions to be uncomfortably stiff, it also served to make them mercifully short.  Rala considered it a satisfactory trade-off. 
    "The governor is expecting me, I assume?"
    "Yes.  Go right in," he said, offering a fake smile.
    The governor was seated at his large, ornate desk when Rala entered.  He looked up from the work on his desk and gave her a quick nod.  Her presence acknowledged, he turned his focus back to the monitor on his desk.
    As a frequent visitor to the office, Rala knew the expected protocol and silently took the chair placed in front of the governor's desk.  As she lowered herself onto the hard surface, she could not help but notice—again—the disparity in height and comfort between the chair where she sat and the one Truk occupied.  The opulence of his throne would have been an embarrassment to most Minith.  The rich purple upholstery, bejeweled back, and intricately carved legs were overshadowed only by the gaudiness of the chair's height and width.  
    She felt for the device in her blouse and quickly removed it. 
    Her pulse slowed at once.  The ability to perform that maneuver