"Yes."

"One of our recommendations was to stash some fighters and courier ships way out in mountain caves where they wouldn't be caught in whatever fighting happened over Mig-Ka and other cities. That way they wouldn't be caught completely without out-system communication capabilities."

"Sounds like a good plan. You wouldn't happen to know where these ships are hidden, would you?"

"As a matter of fact, we helped supervise their hiding," Kolchin said with a sort of grim satisfaction. "We'll be there in a couple of hours."

Beside him Hill snorted gently. "Assuming the Mrachanis don't get their act together and come after us, of course."

"You sure, Gasperi?" Holloway asked, frowning at the display. "That doesn't look like any fighter baseline I've ever seen."

"It's fighters, all right, Colonel," Gasperi assured him. He touched a key, and six images appeared across the ident screen. "What threw me was that they're flying in a nonstandard formation," he said, fiddling with the controls. "Very close, with a partial overlap and interference cancellation in the baseline signatures. Watch as I bring them together."

The images on the screen moved inward; and the corresponding baseline schematic rippled and convulsed into a copy of the one showing on the tachyon pickup. "Like that."

"Makes for a much smaller footprint than a standard formation," Takara observed. "Harder for any snooping Conqueror scouts to pick up. Pretty fancy flying, though."

"Fancy or stupid," Holloway agreed. "Any idea yet who they are?"

"With that kind of formation?" Gasperi shrugged. "Have to be Copperheads. Corvines, probably."

Takara looked at Holloway. "The rest of Commander Quinn's contingent?"

"Probably," Holloway said. "What are we looking at, about an hour to mesh and another to groundfall?"

"About that," Gasperi nodded.

Holloway looked at his watch. Almost exactly the same time the skitter was due back from Edo, assuming the desk pilots there had been halfway efficient at pulling up Quinn's orders. Or the lack of them.

Takara was obviously following the same line of thought. "Going to be close," he murmured. "You suppose he planned the timing deliberately?"

"Probably depends on whether or not he's legitimate." And if he wasn't, Holloway very much wanted to read the interrogation record of someone who'd managed to beg, borrow, or steal a half squadron of Copperhead fighters. A man like that would have to be smart, devious, and extremely brazen.

The sort of man who wouldn't leave anything to chance.

He stepped over to a terminal and keyed for entry. "Something?" Takara asked.

"A hunch," Holloway said, punching up a listing of the traffic into Dorcas since Melinda Cavanagh had come in with that private supply depot of hers. If they were pulling some con here, they almost certainly would have been smart enough to include a quiet backstop in their plans....

And there he was, nestled in among the legitimate supply and logistics flights of the past few days. A small, private courier ship, with a single person aboard, logged in barely four hours behind Quinn and Aric Cavanagh. "What do we know about this one?" he asked Takara, indicating the entry.

"Don't think there's anything special about him," Takara said, squinting at the screen. "He logged in just before I went off duty yesterday. Name's McPhee—forward man for a shipload of nonperishables that should be coming in sometime in the next couple of days. His ID and documents seemed legit enough."

"He's with the Peacekeepers?"

"No, he's a civilian," Takara shook his head. "Working directly out of—" He looked sharply at Holloway. "Out of the NorCoord Parliament."

Holloway nodded sourly. "The same NorCoord Parliament our friend Lord Stewart Cavanagh served three terms in. Any bets on this being just some wild coincidence?"

"Not from me," Takara said. "You know, Cass, we really don't have time for this."

"Agreed. Unfortunately, we can't afford to ignore it, either."

"So what do we do?"

Holloway rubbed at his cheek. All right. Quinn and the Cavanaghs had a tanker and Counterpunch on the ground, with six Corvines on their way in. Highly visible, the whole bunch of them. Which meant that whatever sleight of hand was in the works, the silent backup would likely be the keystone to it. "We split them up," he said. "You were planning to take a survey team out to Site B soon, weren't you?"

"I could head out anytime," Takara nodded. "You want me to take one of them along and keep him there for a couple of hours?"

"You got it," Holloway said. "Make it McPhee—the others should be easier to keep track of."

"What if he refuses to go?"

Holloway cocked an eyebrow. "How can he? He's here to assist in preparations for an incoming supply shipment, isn't he? Well, then, he needs to see what we're doing at Site B."

"Of course," Takara said dryly. "Silly of me."

Holloway looked at the tachyon pickup. "Just be careful," he said quietly. "We don't know what they're up to or what stakes they're playing for. It could get messy."

"Don't worry," Takara promised. "We're Peacekeepers, remember? We'll take care of him."

With one final push the last of the ration boxes finally cleared the inner lip of the storage-compartment hatch. Trying to hold everything in place at once with one hand, Aric eased the rolling cover down across the compartment with the other. He held his breath; but this time, to his relief, the latch clicked shut without jamming. "I'm finished here," he called. "You need any help?"

"No," Quinn's voice drifted in from somewhere in one of the fueler's other rooms. "I should be done in a minute, and Max can handle the check-through on his own. Why don't you go see how Dr. Cavanagh is doing."

"Right," Aric grunted as he began working his way backward out of the galley storage alcove. Melinda had been right: stuff twelve more people in this fueler, and it was going to be real cozy. He could only hope that getting the fueler into zero-gee would make all these cramped spaces feel larger.

Melinda was waiting on the ground by the time he reached the base of the fueler. "How's it going?" she asked.

"It's all in," he told her. "And contrary to my original expectations, it all fits. You?"

She nodded. "All the external compartments are loaded, and I've got the last fuel canister going in now. How's Quinn doing?"

"Sounded like he was about finished loading the backup cells," Aric said. "All we'll have to do then is have Max fire up the electronics and make sure everything works. And we'll be ready to go." He looked up at the canvac barrier still shrouding one side of the fueler. "You check the paint job lately?"

"About ten minutes ago. Still feels a little sticky."

Awkward, but hardly surprising. They'd expected to be doing all this lettering and insignia work in orbit, and paints formulated for vacuum couldn't be expected to perform well in atmosphere. "Well, chances are we've still got a few hours before Dad and the Corvines show up. Maybe it'll be dry enough by then to get through the atmosphere without streaking."

"I hope so," Melinda said, looking up at the fueler. "Personally, I think the sooner you get out of here, the better. I get the feeling that Colonel Holloway is still flipping a coin as to whether to simply ground the project and haul the three of us in for questioning."

A motion across the parking field caught Aric's eye: a military groundcar had emerged from between two of the warehouses and was heading their way. "Looks like he may have finished his toss," he said, stepping to the intercom beside the base of the lift-cage track. "Quinn? We've got company. Peacekeeper car on its way."