“Lara’s going to want them filled according to protocol. That means opening the jar, using the scoop to take a core, filling, and resealing the jar. She’ll want one from the closest dune, one from the tidal sand, and one from where the waves are washing.” Yoshimura paused. “Got to take a risk, Supervisor. If we don’t, we’ll never be able to do our jobs, and damn it, we’ve spent twelve years getting here already.”

“We’ll split up,” Shin said. “Yosh, you take the dune. Supervisor, you get the tidal zone, and I’ll get the wet one. Won’t take us but three minutes. Then we can hotfoot back inside, drive around the dunes in safety, or float offshore taking soundings with the underwater sensing gear. Maybe deploy one of the cameras for underwater photography.”

“Works for me,” Yosh said. “Supervisor?”

Kalico took a deep breath. “We go fast. But I take the dune sample. It’s farthest from the seatruck. I’m faster, and I’m armed. Dr. Yoshimura, you take the tidal zone. Shinwua, you’re in the wave-washed zone. Each of you: get out, get that sample, and get back. If anything’s gone to sucking snot, Yosh drives to the rescue. Got it?”

“Sure thing.”

Yoshimura broke out the sample jars. Clear glass with a stainless-steel top, each held a half liter. Attached to the side was the disposable plastic scoop. It looked simple: Drive the scoop into the sand and twist it to take a core. Lift the scoop free and insert it into the jar. Press the tab on the handle, and it would release the sample as the scoop was withdrawn. Then screw the cap tight and record the provenience on the label.

“Any questions, Supervisor?” Yosh asked.

“Nope. Let’s do this, people. Just stay frosty and don’t linger.” Kalico checked her pistol, opened the door, and leaped out onto the packed sand.

She didn’t run headlong, but she sure didn’t tarry either. Hurrying, she kept one hand on her pistol, the other holding the sample jar.

The first thing that hit her was the smell: musky, damp, almost like a pungency. The odor wasn’t unpleasant, but heavy with salt and wet sand, possessed of a tang that might have been from the plants. At each step, invertebrates broke from where they’d been hidden beneath the surface, skittering a meter or more away from her booted foot to burrow without a trace into the creamy sand. They did so with remarkable speed.

The salt-scented sea breeze batted at Kalico’s hair, ruffled her coveralls, and patted her cheeks. Capella’s light warmed her, the primary’s rays reflecting whitely off the beach. She felt inexplicably free. Surrounded by beauty.