Homer Crawford said, "Yeah, Miltiades. Seized power, whipped the Athenians into shape to the point where they were able to take the Persians at Marathon, which should have been impossible." He looked around at the others, winding up with Elmer. "What happened to Miltiades after Marathon and after the emergency was over?"
Elmer looked down into his coffee. "I don't remember," he lied.
There was a clicking from the first hover-lorry, and Cliff Jackson put down his coffee, groaned his resentment at fate, and made his way to the vehicle and the radio there.
Bey motioned with his head. "That's handy, our still being able to tune in on the broadcasts the African Development Project makes to its teams."
Kenny said, "Not that what they've been saying is much in the way of flattery."
Bey said, "They seem to think we're somewhere in the vicinity of Bidon Cinq."
"That's what worries me," Homer growled. He raked his right hand back through his short hair. "If they think we're in Southern Algeria, what are these planes doing around here? We're hundreds of miles from Bidon Cinq."
Bey shot him an oblique glance. "That's easy. That plane that tried to clobber us, and these others that have been trying to search us out, aren't really Reunited Nations craft. They're someone else."
They all looked at him. "Who?" Isobel said.