She shut down the fans, killed the power, and took a moment to study the lines of junked aircars out by the bush. Then she scanned the still-running ones parked closer in and the four airtrucks backed against the fence. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. No irregularities. Nothing that looked like an innocent pile of dirt or a mound where flat ground should be. She checked the shadows cast by Capella’s slanting light, seeing regular lines, nothing with a watery look or shimmer as would be projected by a hiding quetzal.

Only then did she pull her rifle from the rack, check the chamber, and open the door. She took another careful scan of her surroundings. Stepping down, she locked the door behind her, walked warily to the gate, rifle at the ready. When quetzals were in the vicinity, she cursed evolution for not giving her eyes in the back of her head.

At the gate, Sean Finnegan—wearing his battered armor with its make-do powerpack, rifle in hand—told the shiny new marine with him, “Keep an eye out, Aberash. Rifle up, ready to shoot.”

“Yes, sir,” the young woman told him, every ounce of her looking like she was ready for the shit to come down.

“How you doing, Sean?” Kalico asked as Finnegan unlocked the gate and swung it open, his attention remaining fixed on the aircar field behind her.

“Long night, ma’am. Four dead, three of them soft meat. Killed four quetzals. The teams are wrapping up the search on the north end. Working through the warehouses now.” He swung the gate shut behind her, still keeping his eyes on the field and its approaches.

“Two Spot said they came in through the shuttle field gate? Used a hostage?”

“Yeah. Sczui. He’s in hospital. I guess it will be a close thing.” Finnegan gave her a wry grin. “Privates Ituri and Asaana were on the gate when Sczui came staggering up. Figured they’d just slip the gate open, drag him in, and close it right quick. They got a lesson in how fast quetzals move. Knocked them flat, but, by damn, ma’am, they rolled over, pawed their rifles around, and from prone, smoked one. Hit a second one hard enough to slow it down. But the two in the lead got scot-free into the town.”

“Whitey one of them?”

“Nope. More’s the pity. That tricky son of bitch is still out there, somewhere.”

Kalico told him, “Stay frosty.”

“You got it, Supervisor.”

As Kalico walked away, she heard him saying, “Now you know why that woman rates so high. She might be in charge of Corporate here on the planet, but she’s one of us first.”