The poor man looked up, blinked, and almost swallowed his tongue as Flute’s big head bent down to inspect Kylee’s latest “friend.”

“Flute? This is Fenn Bogarten. He’s hurt. Broken leg. Keep him safe.”

Bogarten stared up with skull-popped eyes and a death rictus. “That’s a . . . That’s . . .”

Flute turned orange and chirped a tremolo from his vents.

“A quetzal, yeah.”

“But he’ll kill me,” Bogarten squeaked, perspiration beading on his forehead.

“Only if you piss him off.” Kylee slapped him on the shoulder. “So, I guess I wouldn’t if I were you.”

Dropping back inside, Kylee stepped into the main cabin to find Falise and the three aides crowded around the IG. “Thought there were four in the Four?”

“There were,” Falise said. “The IG tells me his Fourth was going to stand guard outside the hatch last night. When the Second went to check on him this morning, he was gone.”

“Welcome to Donovan,” Kylee told her. “How do we want to do this? I’ve got Bogarten out. I figure that he’s fit enough to ride Flute up to the airtruck.” She looked at the IG. “This guy? Broken collar bones? I could toss him over my shoulders for a combat carry up the ridge, but he’ll be in the worst pain he’s ever known. And if there’s a busted rib? Could puncture a lung. Best bet is that we build a litter and pack him.”

Falise’s expression pinched; then she jerked a nod. “Whatever you think.”

Kylee leaned down, staring into Soukup’s eyes. “Here’s the deal: We can’t immobilize your shoulders, so I’m going to need you to keep your body stiff as I lift you up the ladder. It’s going to hurt worse than you’ve ever hurt. But it’s got to happen, get it?”

Soukup blinked. Gave her a half-dazed nod.

Kylee pointed at the two men and the woman left of the Four. “They of any help?”

“Not for this,” Falise told her. “It’s not in their programming.”

“Programming. Right,” Kylee muttered. “Hell, let’s program everyone. Make them really fucking valuable in a crisis.”

She squinted an eye at Soukup, took in his tailored gray jacket, and reaching down, knotted her fingers in the flaring shoulders. Then she lifted.

Soukup screamed.

And he came right out of the chair.

Kylee didn’t relent, backing as she walked him forward through the hatch to the base of the stairs. There, she reached down under the hem of his jacket, got a firm hold on his belt, and ordered, “Stay straight, motherfucker, or you’ll get yourself jammed up in the narrow confines of the hatch.”