All this and more swirled through Phule’s mind as he watched the soldiers mill aimlessly about at the foot of the ramp. The Eagles, in turn, ignored the formation of Legionnaires completely, not even sparing them a curious glance as they chatted back and forth.
Finally an imposing figure strode down the ramp. Looking neither left nor right, it stalked across the runway with the easy, rolling gait of a trained athlete, setting an unswerving course for Phule.
“Captain Jester, I assume? I’m Major Matthew O’Donnel.”
Startled at being greeted by name, Phule nonetheless managed a snappy salute.
“Welcome to Haskin’s Planet, Major.”
O’Donnel neither returned the salute nor offered to shake hands.
“Yeah. I’m sure,” he said with a tight humorless smile. “Look, Captain, I imagine you’re about as happy to see us as we are to be here. Now, is there somewhere we can talk? Somewhere air-conditioned, if possible. I’d like to get this foolishness settled as fast as possible.”
Numbly Phule gestured toward the terminal, and the major brushed past him with his now familiar stride.
“Lieutenant Armstrong, Rembrandt,” the commander called, beckoning to his junior officers.
“Sir?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Get the company back to the compound and wait for me there. I’ll be along as soon as I find out what the hell is going on.”
“But, sir.”
“Just do it! But be sure to leave me a driver. I have a hunch I’m not going to feel like walking back once this is over.”
Entering the terminal, Phule found that his disturbing surprises were not over yet. The first thing to greet his eyes was the sight of Major O’Donnel stiffly shaking hands with … Governor Wingas!