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Updated: May 13, 2025
In a ready-room at the outer edge of the platform, a Planeteer officer faced a dozen slim, blackclad young men who wore the single golden orbits of lieutenants. This was a graduating class, already commissioned, having a final, informal get-together. The officer, who wore the three-orbit insignia of a major, was lean and trim. His hair was cropped short, like a gray fur skull cap.
Sothran Barth, the lieutenant in charge of the landing stage, was bawling orders, and men were coming out of the ready-room and piling into vehicles to pursue the aircar which had brought the assassins. "Barth!" Vall called. "Have you a hypodermic and a sleep-drug ampoule? Well, give this boy a shot; he's only impact-stunned. Be careful of him; he's important." He glanced around the landing-stage.
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