After-report!
Gabe looked Ibrahim over. He was sporting bandages on his arms and neck, and his fingers were trembling from one too many buzzkills. “Looks like you were in the scrum yourself, Chief. When were you planning to get some sleep?”
“I dunno. When are you?” Ibrahim shot back as he lit a cigarette. “We got a lid on the situation now, but the pot’s still bubbling and the handle’s damned hot. I can keep track of what still needs doing; I’ll hand things off to my relief when I can’t. Kimiko’s better off soaking up what happened while she’s still got fresh eyes for it, anyway.”
“Fair enough, Chief.” Greg lit his own cigarette. “What did happen, anyway? I know we got swarmed, sure — but who released the wasps? We haven’t had this many gold-witches at once since the last days of the War. An incursion point didn’t show up when I wasn’t looking, did it?”
“I almost wish, Greg. That’d be easy-peasy to solve. A couple of H-bombs through the point to let the Others know we ain’t happy, and a firecracker on our end to seal the hole; if we could do that, it’d already be done. There’s been no breakthroughs, though. Besides, we’d know if one had popped up. It’s for sure we’d have done better triage!”