As Marinus was taken below ground to get cleaned up, Lentan debriefed the rescue team and took some digestive pills to accelerate the processing of the two rabbits in his stomach.  Then he swaggered almost casually to Section 1E.<br/><br/>The foxboy had settled into a chair, with the scientist he was holding hostage pinned by a bristly foot to the floor.  The alien raygun was hanging from one of his hands, with the business end aimed straight at the scientist's forehead.  He'd settled down a bit, gaining a slight air of confidence that puzzled the armed guards surrounding him.  But when Lentan strolled in, he stiffened, squeezing the scientist's ribcage under his foot.<br/><br/>"Come to try and talk me down, asshole?" he spat, waving the raygun towards Lentan.  Lentan didn't respond.  Instead he took a position among the guards and smiled at the foxboy, fidgeting with his clothes to add some atmosphere to the situation.  "What, you just gonna stand there and try to be creepy?" the foxboy shouted.  "Is this some fucked-up staring contest?"<br/><br/>"You don't even know what that does, do you?" Lentan suddenly asked.<br/><br/>The foxboy blinked a moment and looked at the raygun.  "It's a gun.  It shoots.  It kills."<br/><br/>"Wrong," said Lentan, who was rolling a tasty morsel of thought around in his mind.  "So you're a mole, obviously.  The humans have something the furs want, and you're being used to get to it.  Well, you've got it.  Happy day."  The foxboy looked at Lentan in a mixture of astonishment and puzzlement.  Lentan toyed with his collar, then his belt, then the sheathed dagger hanging from his belt.  "But then you got a little greedy," he went on.  "The napalm drop was going to kill a lot of furs, so you tried to do two things at once.  Not only were you going to deliver that little toy there to the furs, but you were gonna save a lot of them from a burning, flaming death.  Maybe save one of your relatives.  How heroic of you."  Here Lentan pulled up a chair and sat in it, unbuttoned one of his cuffs, then clasped his hands in front of him.  "Problem is, that thing's broken.  Doesn't work.  Or didn't you know that?"<br/><br/>The foxboy bristled and aimed the raygun at Lentan.  "It does work!  I've seen you and everyone else here working on it!"<br/><br/>"Sure, we've been examining it.  Does that mean it works?"<br/><br/>"I'll prove it if I have to!"  The foxboy jammed the barrel of the raygun into the scientist's forehead.<br/><br/>"Okay.  Go ahead," Lentan said, smiling.  The foxboy looked at him in enraged surprise, but put his finger on the gun's trigger.  Just at that moment, a dart lodged in his right arm. He yelped, jumping up out of the chair, dropping the raygun, and staggering over to the communications module, screaming at the top of his lungs.  The dart was a small taser Lentan had designed.  He'd been keeping it up his sleeve for just the right moment.  Instead of just incapacitating the target, the dart was attuned to the electrical currents in the average human nervous system.  It was zapping the foxboy's nerves at just the right voltage and amperage to set off every single pain receptor in his brain.  Lentan had gambled - with his mixed genes the foxboy might have been able to resist the dart's effects.<br/><br/>After almost fifteen seconds of writhing around, crashing into desks and chairs and wearing away his vocal cords with endless screaming, the foxboy passed out on the floor.  Guards immediately hustled him away to the prison section below ground.  One of them returned Lentan's dart, remarking, "We need more of these."<br/><br/>Lentan carefully picked up the raygun and handed it to an aide, telling him to lock it up safely.  He spared no further thought on it.  He had to get back to his computer screens.<br/><br/>Fagan wasn't in the control center when he got back.  Not only that, but the bunker's door was wide open and a horrible sound was coming through it along with the daylight.  Lentan could just see in the distance a huge, scaled foot touching down on the sandy ground a few hundred yards away.  He stepped outside and found Fagan with a few aides, all of them watching in horror as the deinonychuses did their work.<br/><br/>No words fit the occasion.  Lentan didn't waste another moment outdoors - he ran to his desk in the control center and got on the horn to the airstrip, not caring if he sounded too scared when he screamed for an air strike.  The radio went fuzzy after that - the furs were bringing in jamming equipment.<br/><br/>He whipped off his headset in a frenzy and pulled open a desk drawer, revealing the throwing stars within.  Each one was laced with a powerful muscle relaxant, which would reduce any fur the projectile struck to a motionless lump on the ground.  An exterior camera view on one of his screens showed a whole swath of vore-plants being mowed down by a flamethrower.<br/><br/>The bunker was being assaulted.  All his gadgets and expertise could not have prevented this.  No amount of spying and behind-the-scenes technology could win this battle.  Lentan had to slip into his role as a defender.  He placed the throwing stars into a pouch and tied it to his belt, then drew his dagger and positioned himself by the door, waiting for Fagan and his team to withdraw and shut it.<br/><br/>But they didn't.  Nobody was coming through the door.  As the sounds of dinosaurs feeding went on, a new one joined them - the cacophony of thousands of frenzied furs spilling onto the battlefield to devour what the dinosaurs couldn't get to.  Lentan's face tightened in a furious scowl.  This was it.<br/><br/>Suddenly, the howl of jet engines permeated the haze of battle, and the air strike Lentan had called sailed in, showering the enemy with fire.  When vore couldn't win, weapons could.  It was a good creed to follow.