Poe

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He thought there might be a problem when they didn’t hear from Six.

It was a routine status check, each of the spotters responding as requested:

“Zeta One, clear.”

“Zeta Two, clear.”

“Zeta Three, clear.”

“Zeta Four, clear.”

“Zeta Five, clear.”

Then radio silence.

A full seven seconds of it.

McElroy’s gut clenched as he keyed his mic. “Zeta Six, report.”

More silence.

“Zeta Six?”

Three more seconds of nothing, then a sharp pop, followed by, “This is Six. Sorry. Was repositioning. I think I have him.”

McElroy exhaled, telling himself that these things happened, that Six was a good man and should be given a bit of slack. But that feeling of possible difficulties had not abated, and he wondered for a moment if they should abort the entire operation.

No.

He was simply letting paranoia get to him and he couldn’t give in to it. Not when they were this close.

He tapped Duncan’s shoulder. “Put Six on center screen.”

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