The long list of outposts followed for fifteen closely-spaced pages. The message was signed Taylor, General, New United Nations World Space Force, Commanding.
Steele suddenly felt himself struggling to keep order for full-scale attack bottled in his throat.
Then he fought to keep from simply cursing.
He fought to keep the hot, quick panic in him from boiling into some unthinkable suicide.
The sergeant still stood before him, the thing of awful fear deep in his eyes.
"Get Major Zukow at once, sergeant."
"Yes, sir. But sir—"
"What is it?" His jaws hurt, and he could feel the words hissing from between his teeth.
"The list, sir. We're the smallest and newest unit there is, so we'd lie right at the bottom, page fifteen. But we're not there. We're not listed at all, sir."
He looked. Grady was right. And OK'd and signed by Taylor himself, no mistaking that.