Phule felt a sinking sensation in his stomach, but kept his voice calm.

"Very well. What's happened? Start at the beginning."

"Well, Do-Wop took a shot at a lizard..."

"A lizard?"

"It sort of looked like a lizard... only bigger. Currently unidentified. Anyway, it shot back at him, and-"

"It what?"

"It shot back at him, sir. Hit him with some kind of a stun ray. He's alive but unconscious. We've got a force of previously unknown aliens in the swamp. Intelligent and armed."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Journal #153

I had the privilege of being the only civilian present at the confrontation with the "alien invasion force." This is not to say that I had any actual role in the proceedings or had any real business being there, but when those Legionnaires not on active duty for the initial contact scrambled to join their comrades in the field (leaving only Mother at The Club to serve as a communications link with the settlement), simple curiosity got the better of me and I decided to tag along. Normally I believe my employer would have sent me back, but he either decided he couldn't spare anyone to provide transportation or simply didn't register my presence at all. He was rather preoccupied at the time.

The bulk of the company was scattered along a one-hundred-meter line, crouching or flattened behind what little cover the swamp provided, as Phule huddled with Brandy and Rembrandt for his briefing. As they spoke, they kept their voices lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, occasionally raising their heads or leaning to one side to peer around the hummock they were kneeling behind.

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."

Though it had been proposed that Armstrong supervise the holding action while Rembrandt commanded the miners' escort, Phule had decided to reverse those assignments. Armstrong was clearly the better combat commander of the two, which to Phule's thinking made him the logical choice for escort duty in the event that another group of aliens was encountered during the miners' withdrawal. Rembrandt, on the other hand, had a better feel for the normal swamp terrain thanks to her earlier sketching expeditions, which made her a valuable asset to the scouting and information-gathering efforts.

"Has the settlement been alerted yet?" Brandy said, sneaking another look at the dormant craft.

"Goetz was with me when the call came in," the commander supplied. "He's standing by for further information from us as to what we're up against. In the meantime, he's pulling in all off-duty officers so that they'll have manpower ready to mobilize if things get rough."

"How rough is rough, sir?" Rembrandt pressed. "We've already had one person shot. "

"After he opened fire first," Phule pointed out. "What's more, from what you tell me, he's unharmed. There hasn't been any more shooting, has there?"

"No, sir... as per your orders," the first sergeant said hastily. "There was a bit of activity around the ship a while back, but no firing from either side. I think they saw us, but I can't be sure."

"What kind of activity?"

"Spartacus reported it. Hang on, you can ask him direct."

Before Phule could comment, Brandy gave a low, attention-getting whistle, then beckoned to the Sinthian to join their huddle. The Legionnaire came skimming across the open ground, his body compressed low so he looked a bit like a bean bag draped over the glide board.

The nonhuman would not have been the commander's choice for a scout, since the swift motion of his glide board would tend to catch and hold the eye more than would the slow, stealthy movements of his human teammates. Still, it was more maneuverable over water, and apparently he had completed his mission without drawing attention, or at least without drawing fire.

"Tell the captain what you saw, Spartacus," Brandy ordered. "He wants to know what the aliens were doing around their ship."

"Well, Captain," the Sinthian began, "they opened a panel on the side of their vessel and tinkered around inside for a while... I couldn't see exactly what they were doing. Then they sealed it up again and retreated back inside."

The nonhuman's voice, as supplied by the translator he had hung diagonally across his body, was high and musical, almost like the tinkling of a bell. Try as he might, Phule could not escape the impression that he was receiving a military briefing from a Munchkin.

"Did it look like they were arming a weapon?"

"I... I don't think so, sir. There was no opening or fixture on the outside of the panel to suggest a firing capacity."

"Did they see you?"

"A few of them looked my way from time to time, but they were looking all around, not just at me. I don't think..."

A flicker of motion to the rear of their position caught Phule's attention, and he held up a restraining hand which silenced the Legionnaire in midsentence. There was a tense moment, then a small group of figures appeared, moving carefully from cover to cover.

"What are they doing here?"

It was Brandy who voiced the muttered question, though it echoed the thoughts of everyone in the huddle, as well as those Legionnaires positioned near enough to note the group's approach. The answer was forthcoming, as one figure detached itself from the group and crept forward to join them.

"Sorry to take so long getting here, Captain," Major O'Donnel said, nodding a curt acknowledgment to the others in the huddle. "We hadn't expected to need our full combat gear for a simple honor guard assignment, and it took us a while to get it all unpacked and issued."

He paused to survey the Legionnaires within his line of vision, then shot a glance back at his own Red Eagles.

"If you just fill me in on what you've got so far, I'll get my troops disbursed. Then you can pull your force out a few at a time while we cover you."

"Excuse me Major," Phule said coldly, "but what exactly do you think you're trying to pull here?"

"Pull?" O'Donnel was genuinely puzzled. "I'm not trying to 'pull' anything. We're simply taking command of the situation."