He was slightly puzzled over the signals he received because they weren’t registering as living beings, according to his software. This explained why they didn’t show up on their long-range sensors, of course, but didn’t help him much in trying to determine what they were.

Living beings had certain side effects on their environment that could be measured from a distance. It wasn’t an exact science, unfortunately, but it was the best they could do. A laser, for example, could be reflected off the atmosphere and return a chemical analysis of the planet to the long-range sensors.

Certain concentrations were a good indication of life.

Carbon dioxide, for one, was a common by-product of living beings—at least from Earth’s history. So one could look at the CO₂ levels in the atmosphere and use it to make a guess. Levels within certain parameters meant life signs, especially when corroborated with other sensor returns, like a certain oxygen content and even signs of certain pollutants. If the CO₂ range was ridiculously high or low, it was probably a sign that life wasn’t present.

At least, that’s how the Odyssey’s current life-science programs were developed.

Unfortunately, it was rapidly becoming obvious that they weren’t quite up to the task of looking for nonhuman life.

This world, for example, was throwing almost all the readings off the scale. The CO₂ readings were on the low side, though, close enough to be within limits, especially if the world were a sparsely populated agrarian world, as Milla had suggested. However, the O₂ levels were rapidly dropping, and the resultant chemical shift in the atmosphere was red-shifting a lot of his readings.

These insect things, the Drasin, didn’t even register until the carnivore drones got close enough to detect motion. This meant that they weren’t built like humans at all.

Which, in turn, meant that the major was going to have to get on the bio-lab boys’ butts to turn out a new program that did read the little insect buggers.

More work, he grumbled to himself as he watched the drones gather in all the data they could.

For the moment, though, all he cared about was that they were a long distance away.

The shuttle slowly lowered itself into the cleared area, its immense landing gear shattering the remains of the cleared forest as the full weight of the twenty-meter craft came down. As the heavy craft settled on its gear, a long gangplank lowered, allowing the soldiers inside to rapidly step down and assemble at the base of the shuttle.

“Sir, the signal source is three hundred meters that way,” Master Sergeant Kail growled, pointing off to the west as he addressed the major.

“All right. Sergeant, detail two men to stay behind and guard the shuttle. The rest of us are moving out to check the source of the distress call,” Brinks ordered, grabbing his pack and dropping its braces into the mounting points built into his suit.

Kail waved two of his men over to stand guard at the shuttle’s lowered lift platform, then joined the major and the rest of his team as they left the shuttle and headed toward the clearing. Traveling through the remains of the forest wasn’t difficult, in spite of the tightly woven embrace of the branches. A swipe of a machete—or more often, simply their hands—would snap the brittle wood into splinters and clear the path for the marching soldiers.