“They’re color blind as well.”

“And immune to esthetics?”

“Okay, then. You tell me.”

“I don’t know why, I’m just pointing it out. Their culture has no art.”

“Have you seen the crap flooding the unisphere these days?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, but don’t forget this is a military invasion base. It’s bound to be functional.”

“Could be. What do you make of the setup?”

Morton switched his attention back to the alien activities below him. The angle just allowed him a narrow view along the front of the refinery station. Machinery and tightly packed pipes produced a metal precipice fifty meters high. It was lined with wide orifices that were pumping out torrents of liquid. He counted sixteen of the big jets squirting bilious foaming water out into the lake shallows.

“I guess we know what resource they were after when they came here,” Rob said. “The lake itself.”

“What the hell is that stuff?” Morton wondered. Lights on the top of the refinery station cast a bright illumination across the shallows. The aliens had done a lot of work along the shoreline. Long concrete ramps now extended out into the water, reaching almost to the force field, a kilometer and a half away. In between them, the lake had been divided up into a number of pens by heavy netting. Morton realized there were a lot more ripples in the pens than there were out beyond the force field. Yet there couldn’t be any breeze inside the shielding. He zoomed in for a clearer look at whatever was stirring the water.

The pens were filled with some kind of living creatures. A lot of living creatures. It was their writhing forms thrashing about just below the surface that was causing all the disturbance.

“They’re bioforming the planet,” he said. “That’s what this station is, that’s why they wanted the lake. Jesus.”

“You might be right,” Rob said. “They’ve certainly got big-scale expansion plans. Access sneekbot three-oh-six.”

When 306’s sensor feed flipped up into Morton’s virtual vision he saw the little machine had crept right up to the force field. The first reading was the strength of the field. They didn’t have anything that could penetrate, it was even strong enough to withstand the tactical nukes they’d brought. He concentrated on the excavation that the aliens were making a hundred meters inside the boundary, clawing out a deep bunker that they were lining with concrete and metal. A tower of machinery was being assembled in the center. The Doc had been right: technological solutions did refine machines down to identical functions. Morton recognized some of the sections without having to reference his e-butler. The aliens were building a force field generator.

“Track right,” Rob said.

He swiveled 306’s antenna buds: six hundred meters away, another generator bunker was being dug out.

“Those generators are a lot more powerful than the ones they’re using now,” Rob said. “At this rate it’s only going to take a couple of days to finish them. After that, they’ll be truly impregnable, and we’ll be truly screwed.”

“Only the town has a force field so far,” Morton said. “We can play hell with everything else they’re doing.”

“Whose chain are you trying to jerk here? This is where it’s at, right here in town. We’ve got to hit that monster station. Don’t screw around; use the nukes.”

Morton risked raising his head slightly, looking directly at the force field and the town it enclosed. The vast chunk of alien machinery along the waterfront could have been a light-year away for all the chance he had of reaching it. “Fuck it, there’s no way in!”

“Maybe we could get in from the water side? Force fields don’t function so good in water, the denser the material the less effective they are.”

“Could do. Water’s not that dense, though. We’d have to scout around, test the field integrity on the lake bed.”

“These suits can handle a dive.”

“Yeah, but will the dump-webs work underwater?”

“I’m not sure, we could—Uh oh, what have we here?”

One of the sneekbots had registered movement several hundred meters deeper in the dead forest. It clambered up on top of a moldy log, looking along a line of stumps. A human shape crawled across the little open lane from one decaying canopy to the next.

“So Mellanie was right,” Rob said. “Not just a great ass, huh?”

“No,” Morton said absently. Two more humans were sneaking after the first. From what he could make out they were dressed in some kind of dark ski suits. They didn’t register on infrared. Somebody knew how to rig the thermal fibers, he acknowledged. “This can’t be good for us, they’re going to strike something.”

“Relax, man, our stealth is good.”

“Theirs isn’t.” His virtual hand touched the Cat’s icon. “We’ve found whatever’s left of the locals. Access our sneekbots.”

“I see them, Morty. Looks like they’ve developed a purpose in life.”

“It’s a damn stupid one,” the Doc said. “If they start shooting at the aliens they’re just going to get themselves killed.”

“They look like they know what they’re doing to me,” Rob said. “Let’s see where they’re going.” Five sneekbots set off through the forest, keeping parallel to the three humans. They soon overtook them, and began scanning ahead.

“Part of our mission is to rescue and assist any surviving humans,” the Doc said.

“I think that referred to noncombatants,” Rob told him.

“That’s what these idiots are, they just think they’re fighters.”

“They fooled me.”

“The Doc might be right,” the Cat said. “These bumpkins aren’t helping us by causing a fuss. You should stop them, Morton.”

Why me? he thought. Any other time, it might have been flattering.

“Uh oh,” Rob said. “We might be running out of time.” The sneekbots were picking up standard Prime electromagnetic emissions. Four armored aliens were patrolling the foothills along the top of the dead forest.

Morton pulled a detailed map out of his grid, and studied it. “If I was going to ambush them I’d do it there,” he said, and indicated a small, deep ravine that cut clean through the foothills to spill into the Trine’ba just east of the town. The aliens would have to cross it somewhere. “They’ll be out of sight from the town, and shielded. Perfect spot.”

“Yeah,” Rob said. “Not bad for a bunch of amateurs.”

“Get over there and talk to them,” the Doc said. “They should at least know we’re here.”

“If you ask me, these guys know what they’re doing,” Rob said. “I don’t think this is their first turkey shoot.”

“You’re making a mistake if you let them do this.”

“Doc’s right,” the Cat said. “Go break up the fight, boys.”

Morton knew she was right. Cat’s Claws couldn’t afford anyone interfering in their mission, no matter how well intended. “We’ll try.”

Rob carried on grumbling, but he followed Morton back through the thick layer of mildew-steeped needles, keeping under the lacy roof of decomposing bark. Even as they began, Morton knew they were cutting it close. The alien patrol was making good time out in the open, and the ambush team was almost in position.

“We’ll swing around your way,” the Cat said. “Just in case you screw up. I’m bored with dropping these sensors, anyway.”

“Fuck you,” the Doc said. “We can’t see anything past Blackwater Crag yet. We need to expand the network.”

“You’re becoming a bad pain-in-the-ass barracks-room lawyer. I don’t like that. You do what you do, and let me do what I know needs to be done.”

“This is not about you, bitch.”

“Temper temper.”

“Hey, heads up, people,” Rob exclaimed. “We have something interesting here.” The sneekbots were reporting some kind of electromagnetic interference inside the ravine. It wasn’t the kind of jamming effect that would cut the aliens off abruptly from the town, but a more subtle distortion, reducing their bandwidth and disrupting the remaining content. “Somebody knows what they’re doing.”