"Captain Clown!" The door burst open again, and a diminutive lizardlike creature came scrambling in, dressed in what was obviously a uniform. It stopped when it noticed the major and made a complex gesture-a salute, apparently. "Major Snafu! It is my onerous duty to report to you!"
"Who the hell is this?" said Botchup.
"It's our native liaison, Flight Leftenant Qual of the Zenobian military," said Phule. "He'll know what's going on, if anyone does. What's happening, Qual? Our instruments show something out there, but nobody can see anything."
"Ah-hhh," the Zenobian hissed. "It is as I feared, Captain Clown. The Hidden Ones come, and we shall be powerless against them."
"Powerless?" Major Botchup smirked. "You underestimate us, Flight Leftenant. A Space Legion company is nothing to sneeze at, and even considering the sorry shape they were in when I came on board, I fancy I've got these fellows in pretty decent fighting trim by now."
"With all respectability, it is not so effortless, Major Snafu," said Qual. "The Hidden Ones appear to be where one can strike at them, but when one strikes, the effect is as of nothing. I have seen it. We Zenobians have concentrated the fire of an entire Swamplurkers battalion on them, without consequence except the expenditure of munitions. And when they become agitated, they begin to play tricks on the mind."
"Tricks on the mind?" Botchup scoffed. "Now you're really telling fairy tales. Invisible bogeymen that you can't shoot and that play tricks on the mind when you annoy 'em-go tell it to the Regular Army!"
"It is quite true," insisted Qual. "They cause the victim to become unable to distinguish between persons. It is as if everyone in the world were hatched from the same egg."
Botchup laughed, a harsh braying laugh that conveyed no warmth. "Pardon my Vegan, Flight Leftenant, but that's bullshit, plain and simple. If I had a plot of tomatoes to fertilize I might buy some, but until then, I'll pass."
"Hey, it looks as if I've found the party," came a jaunty voice from the doorway. It was Phule, dressed for a night on the town, with a half-full martini glass in one hand.
Major Botchup turned and stared. "You!" he snarled. Then his eyes flicked back to Phule, standing there in Legion uniform, cool and correct as a recruiting poster, and a sudden doubt crossed his face. "Two of you?"
"Excuse me, Major?" said the Phule in uniform, with a carefully neutral expression.
"We could use a few babes to liven things up," said the Phule in the tuxedo. "I know the answer to that. It's ladies' night in the hotel disco. How about we go down there and check out the action?" He whirled and was out the door before anyone could stop him.
Oblivious to the entire episode, Armstrong had been helping Lieutenant Snipe get down a glass of water. Now at last Snipe managed to sit up straight and to look around. "How did I get back inside?" he said. "Thank goodness for the light-and for a friendly face. I was beginning to think-"
"Easy, now," said Armstrong. "Why don't you tell the major what happened?"
"Excuse me, Major, we've got somethin' new on the screen," said the legionnaire sitting at the console. He swung around to look over his shoulder.
In that instant Snipe saw his face. "Oh my God!" he screamed. "He's everywhere! He's everywhere!" His eyes rolled up into his head, and he fell back unconscious yet again.
There were four officers in the command center, now. Major Botchup, Phule, Lieutenant Armstrong, and Flight Leftenant Qual. Snipe was back in his own quarters, under sedation, with a large, sympathetic legionnaire outside the door to make certain nobody disturbed him. Externally, Botchup remained calm; but he kept casting a suspicious eye toward the other three officers, as if expecting them to metamorphose into identical triplets.
"The Hidden Ones are upon us," said Qual mournfully. "It remains to be seen whether we can escape utter madness."
"I know what you mean. Damn it, my adjutant's already close to the edge," said Botchup. "For a while there, I was beginning to think I was seeing things myself."
"Well, sir, it's a good thing that didn't happen," said Armstrong. "We need a sound mind at the helm, if you'll pardon a naval metaphor, sir."
"Yes, I suppose so," said Botchup glumly. He turned to Qual and asked, "The thing is, if these, uh, Hidden Ones, keep up the pressure, how long can we, uh, hold out against them?"
"That alters according to the specific, Major Snafu," said Qual. "They do tend to focus their attention on the leaders. But a strong-headed sophont such as you...There is no reason to believe you could not withstand it for hundreds of hours." He flashed a toothy grimace and waved a foreclaw toward the console, which still showed the mysterious presence beyond the camp's perimeter. "In any case, they are present, and we shall undoubtedly learn the answer."
"Yes, I suppose we will," said Botchup glumly.
"Yes, sir," said Armstrong. "Omega Company is lucky to have a commander who's willing to take these risks for his people."
"Not as if I have much choice," said Botchup. "The only way I have to get off-world is the landing shuttle. That'd get me up to orbit with some power to spare, but there's no way to get me to an inhabited world. I'd starve waiting for another ship to come."
"Oh, it is not so difficult as that," said Qual. "You may not be aware-in this same system your Alliance has a large space station, easily reached in one of your landers. Lorelei, I believe your name is for it. But of course that does not signify, since you intend to stay and fight the Hidden Ones."
Botchup raised his brows. "Lorelei? The resort station? You mean Zenobia is in the same system as Lorelei?"
"Yes, we were very surprised to learn that," said Phule. "Of course, nobody had any notion this world was inhabited. It's not one we'd have settled for ourselves. It wasn't until after the Alliance signed a treaty with the Zenobians that we found out where their home world was located."
"A sensible precaution, with the other party's intentions unknown to us," said Qual. "Of course, now we are allies together, and we trust you to know these things."
"Lorelei," mused Botchup. "You know, poor Snipe might need to be evacuated-"
"That's a very humanitarian thought," said Armstrong. "Of course, he couldn't pilot the lander himself. Somebody would have to go with him. I'd be glad to-"
"Let me think about it," said Botchup. "This isn't the kind of decision that should be made on the spur of the moment. If Snipe recovers, it wouldn't be necessary. On the other hand-"
The door opened and in came Phule, dressed in a tuxedo. "Just a reminder," he said. "Free breakfast on the casino floor!" He waved his martini glass and ducked back out.
Botchup turned several shades paler. "You know, I think I have the most experience piloting that particular shuttle model. We really need to get Snipe to safety."
"Sir, that's a dangerous voyage," said Armstrong. "Shouldn't you let one of your subordinates take the risk?"
"Major, I think you should send the most expendable officer," said Phule. "That's obviously me..."
"Oh, no, you don't!" said Botchup. "I happen to know that you own the biggest casino on Lorelei! You'll run off and check into a luxury hotel suite and live the life of leisure. We're wise to your tricks, Jester. You're not taking that shuttle, not on your life."
"Very well, Major, I'm sorry you trust me so little," said Phule. "But if we're going to evacuate poor Lieutenant Snipe, who's to take him?"