“No survivors,” he told his squad. Even to himself his voice sounded rusty and old, and he was grateful no one asked any questions. He switched to the command channel.

“Falcon-Five, Falcon-Three-Three,” he said, and waited.

“Falcon-Three-Three, Falcon-Five,” Sergeant Major Jenkins replied. “Go.”

“Falcon-Five, there are no survivors. Repeat, no survivors.”

“Falcon-Five copies, Falcon-Three-Three. Wait one.”

O’Brian stood with his back resolutely to the skimmer, eyes focused on nothing, while Jenkins conferred with Captain Papadapolous. Then the captain himself came on the line.

“Falcon-Three-Three, Falcon Leader. Understand no survivors. Are there any signs of hostile natives still in your area?”

“Negative, Falcon Leader. We’ve got several hundred dead, but no sign of live hostiles.” He started to say something else, then paused as Hillyard’s beacon flashed an attention pattern on his display. “Wait one, Falcon Leader.” He changed channels again. “Yes, Sharon?”

“I’ve been listening in, Sarge. You might want to tell the skipper I don’t see any rifles lying around out here. Looks like they stripped their own dead before they moved on.”

“Copy, Sharon.” He punched back into the company command net. “Falcon Leader, Falcon-Three-Three. Be advised we see no Stilty rifles on site. It appears they stripped their dead before leaving.”

“Understand no rifles on site, Falcon-Three-Three. Maybe they’ve got more bodies than guns. Any sign they took the NPA’s weapons, as well?”

“Negative, Falcon Leader. They… spent enough time here to do it, but I’ve seen several pulse rifles and sidearms. Looks like they might not have understood how to use them.”

“We can hope, Falcon-Three-Three. All right. I’ve got a new mission for you.”

The first flight of NPA skimmers swept overhead, curving back into the south to move their troops in behind the wave of Medusans flowing towards the Three Forks River and the enclaves. O’Brian watched them, noting the way they banked sharply to eyeball the ground as they crossed Sierra-One-One’s desecrated wreckage, while he listened to Papadapolous’s voice.

“The Navy tells me there’s another energy source five-point-three klicks from you at zero-three-niner true. That may be what sucked the NPA in close enough to get hit, so investigating it could be just as important as stopping the Stilties. Ensign Tremaine has a pinnace parked on top of it, but you’re the closest ground troops. The Navy is on channel four, call sign Hawk-Three, standing by for ground support if you need it. Check it out and report back. Anybody you find there, we want them. Copy?”

“Aye, aye, Falcon Leader. Falcon-Three-Three copies. Check out the power source at zero-three-niner, secure the site, and report back. Navy call sign Hawk-Three. We’re on it, Sir.”

“Good, Three-Three. Keep me informed. Falcon Leader clear.”

“Falcon-Three-Three clear.”

O’Brian switched back to the squad net while he brought up his map. If there was a power source up there, it had to be underground, but he and his people had the sensors to find it.

“Sharon, Bill. You copied that?”

“Aye, Sarge,” Hillyard responded, and Corporal Levine seconded her.