the sergeant, "Just a
minute, Rogers. I'll talk to the Major."

Major Chapelle was a thickset, balding man in his late forties. Even
the blazing suns of Naraka hadn't succeeded in burning the sickly
yellow color off his face. In the vision screen he looked like a man
on his last legs. Whatever was wrong with him didn't help his temper,
Terrence thought as he lowered himself gently into a seat before the
screen.

"O'Mara! Where in hell is Norton?" he demanded.

"Well, sir, you see...." began Terrence.

"Never mind! I've a pretty good idea where he is. A fine time to be
chasing skirts! Well, get this straight, O'Mara. Orders have come
through and we're pulling the battalion out. We're ordered back to
Little Texas. We're going to give up these positions along the river
tonight and pull back into Dust Bin. The _Sun Maid_ will stand by to
evacuate us. You people are to come too. Everybody has to get out,
both the military and civilians. All hell's broken loose down river.
The Rumi are across the Muddy in half a dozen places. They've cut the
5th to pieces. New Chicago thinks that those cats have been bringing
troops in from space all along despite the agreement by both sides not
to do so. And now they have us way outnumbered." The Major's voice
held a thin edge of hysteria.

"Is there any action along our front, Major?" Terrence asked quickly,
hoping to stop the flow of talk before Chapelle's hysteria
communicated itself to the enlisted men who were sitting or lying
about the command post.

"Not yet; just patrols across the river so far. We've got to get out,
O'Mara, and get out fast. They'll be all over us if we don't. The
Colonel says for Norton to have everything ready to go. He wants the
depot destroyed. Everything's got to go, everything we can't take
along. The _Sun Maid_ won't have time for more than one trip. He wants
the HQ company and the civilians on board by tomorrow morning at the
latest."

"What about the Rifles, sir?"

"What? The what?"

"The native troops, sir. The Narakan Rifles." Terrence grated.

"The Rifles? Good God, man! We haven't time for nonsense. The Rifles
are only Greenbacks, aren't they? You get Norton started burning those
stores."

Terrence put down the microphone very carefully to keep from slamming
it down and stalked back into his quarters. Angrily he began to take
his radiation clothing from its hooks on the wall.

"What the devil is eating you?" demanded Bill Fielding.

"