One of the suits crossed the yard to the transporter: an AGC that was simply an open-backed truck with a framework able to carry juicing stations. The other suit walked around to the back of the house, and soon returned driving Cheryl’s personal AGC. So that was what this was all about: they just wanted transport. Good. Once they secured it and went on their way, whatever blocker they had would go with them. She watched while the android tore the framework from the back of the transporter and tossed it aside before taking its place there. Foamed steel frame: it had to be strong to take the weight of the juicing stations. Cheryl swallowed dryly. She had definitely made the right move. The other suit got into her AGC—she would have liked to have known how they broke the security lock—and the leader sat at the controls of the transporter. Soon they were up in the sky and roaring overhead, all turbines opened at full. Cheryl waited until they were out of sight before heading back into the crop house. She had almost reached the door when a hand caught her shoulder.

Cheryl reacted. She caught the hand, pulled on it, and drove her elbow back as hard as she could. No pulling punches; this was life or death. Her blow elicited a grunt. The next thing she knew there was a grip on the back of her fatigues, on her arm, and she was airborne. She hit the ground flat on her back, spun her legs to give her momentum, and then flipped up into a fighting crouch. The man standing before her was heavily built, had cropped ginger hair, and seemed to have been in the wars. As she pulled her pathetic chainglass pruning knife, just one thought went through her mind. Fuck: boosted.

‘I could have let you go in,’ said John Stanton, holding his hand to his torso and looking ill.

Cheryl paused at that. If she ran, she would probably get it in the back.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

‘They stole a personal AGC. So they’d have known someone was here.’

‘So?’

‘You army?’

‘I was.’

‘Then you should know about seeker bullets. Programmed levels of targeting. Five shots and two explosions. What does that mean, soldier?’

Cheryl got a sudden cold shudder when she realized what he was saying. ‘You’re not with them?’ she asked.

‘Not now,’ said Stanton. ‘And I suggest we put a bit of distance between us and this house.’