"Bah," chuckled Kortha, but he tingled meeting her eyes.
Hours later, the western sky grew dark with warships.
Kortha and Ilse stood once more in the tower over the paraboloid city, their arms touching. Before Kortha lay a white metal box with a red enamel switch disappearing inside it.
They watched the mighty battlefliers loom sullen and black above the coppery cliffs, pointing their blunt noses downward, dropping one after the other from the blue sky into the reddish plains below. They came swiftly, in perfect echelon, masts flying the black panther banner of Guantra. Their gunports lay open, the lean metal nozzles of their guns glistening in the sunlight.
"Zut," whispered Ilse. "Guantra compliments you. He has stripped all of Mars to capture you."
Xax said dryly, "The legend of Kortha is more than a legend, it seems."
"To destroy that fleet would cripple Mars for a decade," Kortha whispered. "I couldn't do it, unless I was sure that the stakes we fight for are worth it."
"We fight for Mars," said Ilse.
"Yes. Yes, I begin to believe that. When one man is so powerful he can do with a warfleet what he will, to achieve his own personal ambitions—"
They stood silent, watching the fleets come black across the skies.