Spec-Ops

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1559. Khorbel deJahn slid into the dim pod, sensies flicking to Duty OpsCon. “Up-what, sir?”

“You’re last, Tech deJahn. Chimbats,” replied the major. “Nu-type. Seasies haven’t seen. Take over from Hennesy. Third seat.”

Leastwise, no scroaches. DeJahn link-pulsed.

Hennesy blinked, unlinked, and stood. “You got it, deJahn.”

“Got it.”

Hennesy had left the sensie-seat hot, damp. DeJahn wiped it with the cloth he always brought.

Still hated taking over a hot seat. Leastwise, he was beside Meralez. Her eyes were open, link-blank.

Sexy eyes when she was in her skull, not like now.

He pulled the thin mesh cap into place over his short mil-cut hair. Made sure the contacts handshook, blanked his thoughts, and settled into the link. Tech first deJahn.

Accepted. Flash background: Chimbats. Three families, each of twenty-five units. Target: any personnel at biointerdict station beta-four. See plot.

Firsties were just chitterings, light-darts in blackness. Be a while before the biogator expelled the chimbats from the pouch under its ridged back. Side-mind went to the back plot, illuminated only in his thoughts. Green blips were the gators, swimming upstream after a tidal boost. Red blip was target—

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