HOSTAGE SITUATIONThere is no greater tactical disadvantage than the presence of precious noncombatants. Civilians, historical treasures, hostages: treat them as already lost.--ANONYMOUS 167 PILOTThe five small craft passed from shadow, emerging with the suddenness of coins thrown into sunlight. The disks of their rotary wings shimmered in the air like heat, momentary rainbows flexing across prisms of motion. Master Pilot Jocim Marx noted with pleasure the precision of his squadron's formation. The other pilots' Intelligencer craft perfectly formed a square centered upon his own."Don't we look pretty?" Marx said."Pretty obvious, sir," Hendrik answered. She was the squadron's second pilot, and it was her job to worry."A little light won't hurt us," Marx said flatly. "The Rix haven't had time to build anything with eyes."He said it not to remind Hendrik, who knew damn well, but to reassure their squadron-mates. The other three pilots were nervous; Marx could hear it in their silence. None of them had ever flown a mission of this importance before.But then, who had?Marx's own nerves were beginning to play on him. His squadron of Intelligencers had covered half the distance from dropsite to objective without meeting any resistance. The Rix were obviously ill-equipped, improvising against far greater force, relying on their single advantage: the hostages. But surely they had made preparations for small craft.After a few moments in the sun, the waiting was over."I'm getting echolocation from dead ahead, sir," Pilot Oczar announced."I can see them," Hendrik added. "Lots of them."The enemy interceptors resolved before Marx's