Very deliberately Tchassen slapped the back of his hand against her cheek. The pillbox was abruptly very still. She stared at him, her eyes wide. Slowly she raised her hand and touched the reddening mark on her face. She shrank against Briggan and the Sergeant put his arm around her shoulders.
"You didn't have to do that, Captain," he bristled.
"Don't quarrel," Tynia whispered. "Not on my account."
Tchassen's muscles tensed. This was the way Tynia had created tension on the post; he had seen it happen to her husband. Yet could he honestly blame her? It wasn't her fault; just the irony of circumstance. And Tchassen knew that his anger now was primarily envy, because she had turned to the Sergeant for protection and not to him.
He made himself relax. "Hysteria," he said, "is a luxury none of us can afford."
"You're right," Tynia answered. "Absolutely right. I was very foolish."
She moved away and Briggan muttered, "Sorry, sir. I didn't think—"
"We must get back to the coast," Tchassen said briskly, "through territory occupied by the enemy. We can scrape together all the weapons we'll need and the roads are supposed to be passable. Our only problem, then, is transportation."
"Maybe we'd better stay here," Tynia suggested.
"Sitting ducks for the Earthmen to attack?"