The squishing halted near him.
He waited.
The commandos moved ahead, leaving him behind.
When he felt it was safe, Malloy took the Asphixion pad off his face—a pad without the transparent plastic coat being pulled off.
He made out a buddy team of Jockeys almost on top of the first Rider-ridden manned post. All the others had to be far ahead....
Malloy leaped to his feet—or tried to. He managed to slosh to his knees.
"Raid!" he screamed. "Jockeys are raiding the hothouse!"
The lights flared up, a magnesium, Fourth-of-July night glare. Guards with guns sprang from everywhere. The guns went into action. Clouds of crystalline Asphixion snowed down on the raiders.
From far back, Malloy watched in satisfaction.
The sound came from behind him.