“Um-hum.” Tremaine watched the display for a few more seconds while the pinnace’s low-orbit sweep took it towards the horizon. Then he nodded and clapped the sensor tech on the shoulder. “Good job, Hiro. I’ll make sure the skipper knows who spotted it.”

“Thanks, Sir.” Yammata grinned, and Tremaine turned to his NPA com officer.

“Punch up the ship, Chris. I think the Old Lady will want to know about this.”

· · • · ·

“It looks like you were right, Honor.” Dame Estelle Matsuko’s face was distinctly unhappy on the com screen. “There’s something there, anyway, and whatever it is, it certainly isn’t legal. The entire Mossyback Range is off limits, and so is the Mossyback Plateau.”

“It doesn’t necessarily follow that it’s a drug lab,” Honor pointed out, and Dame Estelle snorted.

“Of course it doesn’t—and if you can say that three times in a row with a straight face, I’ll buy you a five-course dinner at Cosmo’s.”

Honor chuckled at the reference to Landing’s most expensive, and exclusive, restaurant, but then she sobered.

“You’re right, of course,” she admitted. “And even if it isn’t the lab, it’s still illegal. The question, I suppose, is what you want to do about it, Ma’am.”

“What do you think I’m going to do about it?” Dame Estelle’s expression was grim. “Barney Isvarian is putting together a raiding party right now.”

“Do you need any additional manpower? I could land some of Captain Papadapolous’s Marines—?”

“I expect we’ve got all the troops we need, but thanks. I’ll check with Barney. If he thinks he needs some help, I’ll certainly let you know,” Dame Estelle said gratefully.

Major Barney Isvarian, Medusan Native Protection Agency, slithered forward through waist-high knobs of shemak moss and tried to ignore the chemical stench of its sap. His mottled fatigues and body armor weren’t as good as the Corps’ reactive camouflage, but they blended well with the monotonous background. The hugely out-sized insects that served Medusa as “birds” swooped and darted above the moss, and he made himself move even more slowly to avoid startling them. Unlikely though anyone was to be looking this way and notice a sudden eruption of bugs from the moss, it was still possible, and he had no intention of blowing this operation now.

He reached the crest of the rise and paused to catch his breath as Sergeant Danforth eased up beside him. Like Isvarian, Danforth was an ex-Marine, and he unlimbered his massive plasma rifle with reassuring competence. Alloy and plastic clicked as he mounted the one-hundred-fifty-centimeter weapon on its bipod, inserted the heavy power pack, and snapped the electronic sight into place. He hit the self-test switch with his thumb, then nodded and burrowed the stock into his shoulder, peering through the sight at the buildings below.

Isvarian checked his own sidearm, then raised his electronic binoculars to survey the same scene, and his lips pursed in grudging admiration. No wonder the aerial shots hadn’t shown anything. The Corps itself couldn’t have done a better job of concealing the place.