Again a soft red light gleamed, and in its brief flare Snipe saw the legionnaires around him. After the first instant of shocked recognition, he gave a terrified shriek and fainted dead away.
Major Botchup paced, stopping occasionally to look at the Command Center console over the shoulder of the legionnaire on duty. What was taking Snipe so long? The approaching…entity that showed, now larger than the Legion camp itself, on the Command Center’s screens, surely must be visible from the defensive perimeter. Even Snipe must be able to see it.
He’d tried paging the lieutenant on the communicator, but the interference that had plagued communications ever since he’d arrived on this planet had suddenly increased again. He suspected sabotage. It had to be sabotage. Not even Omega Company could rise to this level of incompetence. The camp was in a state of siege, the enemy was gathering its strength for a final assault, and now the enemies were boring from within.
“Try him again,” he snapped.
Obediently, the legionnaire at the console went through the routine of trying to hail Botchup’s adjutant, but the speakers kept up an unrelenting rumble and rattle of white noise. Or was it noise? Botchup could swear there were patterns in it, but the cryptological analysis devices in the company’s arsenal could detect no meaning in them. Either the code was subtler than anyone expected, or…He didn’t want to think about what the alternatives might be.
Suddenly the door to the outside burst open. He turned to glare at the intruder. But his heart sank when he saw Captain Jester come through the door along with Lieutenant Armstrong. Supported between them was the limp, pale form of Lieutenant Snipe.