It was an instant before Gordon registered the attack on his commander. Just an instant; almost too long. He gave throat to a howl of rage and pain, less coherent than the thoughts racing through his mind. No, nothing can happen to the captain. I can’t stand it. I won’t let it.
There was no room to aim, little use in firing, lest he hit Bard by mistake. He swung his rifle in frantic arcs, using it like a bat. He felt impacts jolt up his arms as he knocked snow wasps every which way. Someone just ahead heard him yell, passed the word and the whole unit came rushing back, primed to fight. As they usually did, the natives called off their attack and scuttled away, vanishing as quickly as they had come.
“We’ve got minutes to save the captain, maybe less. He’s losing heat way too fast. Somebo
