Phule’s Company by Robert Asprin

The object of their attention, and the focal point of nearly two hundred primed weapons, was a scant thousand meters in front of them: a bulky ungainly-looking spacecraft which floated on pontoons at the end of a tether in one of the swamp’s countless small pools of open, shallow water. There had been no signs of movement in or around the craft since the commander joined his force, but its proximity was enough to hone their caution to a fine edge.

“… they’re small … well, big for lizards, but small compared to us,” Rembrandt was explaining. “I’d put them at roughly half our height, judging from the few we’ve seen.”

“Weapons make them taller,” the commander commented grimly. “You’re sure Do-Wop is all right?”

“As sure as we can be without having him checked over by a doctor,” Brandy said. “It was like he got hit with an electrical jolt. It knocked him out, but doesn’t seem to have done any permanent damage. Mostly he’s hollering to rejoin the company.”

“Let’s keep him out of it for the moment. We don’t know for sure if there are any hidden aftereffects yet, and there’s no point in risking him unless he’s really needed.”

“Right.”

“Any word from Armstrong?”

“He’s still with the team escorting the miners back to the settlement,” Rembrandt reported. “He wanted to break off and rejoin once they were a kilometer out of the area, but the way I understood your orders you wanted the miners under our protection all the way back to the settlement.”

“That’s correct, Lieutenant,” Phule said. “Until we know for sure how many of them there are and where they are in the swamp, we have to keep the miners covered.”