Curiously pinched, worried young faces, drawn taut with the tension of bewilderment and sudden fear.
Tayne pivoted, faced Doug.
"Sir, Kurt and Ronal Blair, as assigned by command! At your orders, sir!"
Doug returned the salute, said nothing. He walked with a careful nonchalance to where the two boys, swords and maces still swinging at their sides, stood at attention. Their arms rose in salute. There was no sign of recognition in their eyes.
He dared linger near them but a moment, the fleeting moment it would take for him to identify his own sons beyond doubt. And again, it would be a matter of timing. For until the right moment, Tayne could hear every word.
"How long have you boys been in your present unit?"
"Since—since June the third I think, sir." Terry's voice. And it was Terry's way of saying words. It was Terry, and it was Mike beside him.
But he remained silent. He waited, and he prayed.
The silence drew into seconds, and it was deadly.
And then suddenly a third flight of evac ships thundered their paen of power as they fought for altitude above him!