Without a thought for the consequences, Thomas snatched the letter from the counter and ran after Skeletor.

‘You the killers?’ Major De Kock got up from his desk and fixed his good eye on Thomas and Skeletor.

Thomas had only ever seen him waddling around the parade ground, but here, up close in his office, he was a formidable beast: big, bald-headed and sleek, with a hungry look in one of his eyes. The other eye was red and weepy, bisected by a pink scar that had been earned, according to base legend, in one of the brutal skirmishes fought to stop Southern Rhodesia from becoming Zimbabwe.

Thomas and Skeletor saluted in tandem.

This was all the confirmation the Major needed. ‘On behalf of State President PW Botha I would like to thank you men for your actions today.’

He was being sarcastic, Thomas thought. News travelled fast in Moon Base Alpha and the story of the unarmed corpse must have shot quickly to the map-covered walls of this office. He gritted his teeth and prepared for the worst, his mind racing through the potential punishments for shooting and looting an unarmed man.

A smile, incongruous with the scar, formed on the Major’s face. ‘Keep this up, boys, and you’ll return to South Africa with medals.’

Medals? He was definitely treating them to some good, old-fashioned army sarcasm.

The Major stiffened and his fingers touched his polished head.

This was such an unfamiliar sight that it took a moment for Thomas to realise what was happening: he was being saluted. It was the first time he had ever been personally saluted by an officer. In response, he and Skeletor snapped out salutes of their own. Maybe they weren’t in trouble after all.

Turning to the maps on his wall, the Major said, ‘Just out of interest, was the terrorist armed?’