He saw where she meant: a two-acre gap in the forest canopy, probably a blowdown patch. "Right," he said, and took the scooter down almost to the treetops before heading there, dodging the occasional emergent that loomed above its leafy neighbors.

The gap proved unsuitable, filled with a dense growth of young forest half as tall as the surrounding older stand. They traveled several miles and checked four more gaps before they crossed a long low ridge and saw what they needed. A mile ahead, on the far side of a smaller gorge, a sizeable area of forest had burned. As they drew near, Olavsdottir said, "That's it. Set her down there."

They landed near the center, away from the gorge. Clearly the fire had been intense. It seemed to Stoorvol he knew the place from Morgan's reports. This lesser gorge was the approach to the old pirate base. And the fire? The Wyzhnyny had razed the forest there after they'd traced Morgan to his bolt hole.

Olavsdottir wasn't speculating on the burn's origin. She was soaking in its ecology. The forest regrowth was still patchy; much of the ground was covered with herbage and low shrubs. Flowers were rampant, and "berries" abundant. Insects in quantity visited both, probing blossoms or tapping fruit juices with their proboscises. There would be hornets, she was sure. And if they were nearly as large as Morgan had described, they'd be predators, preying on other "insects."

She turned to the field entomologists. "This is it, people," she said. "Let's do it." From her small day pack she took something that, unfolded, proved to be a hat with a net rolled on its brim. Putting it on, she secured the net around her collar, then donned tough gloves. The techs did the same.

Then she turned to the scooters where the marines stood watching with their captain. "Stay here," she told Stoorvol, "and leave your repellent fields off. They disorient insect behavior over an area a lot larger than the repellent radius."

Stoorvol watched the hooded collectors walk off in different directions across the burn, heads swiveling slowly as they searched. Sergeant Haynes grunted. "She didn't need to tell us that. We know the drill."

"She's not used to the Corps," Stoorvol said, "and civilians generally need reminding. Otherwise no telling what they'd do."

He'd hardly said it when his radio beeped. He took it from his belt. Its transmitter was directional, so he pointed it east. "Stoorvol," he answered. "This had better be good. If I can read your signal, they can pick it up at the Wyzhnyny base."

"Captain, a bogie just passed over!" The voice was Menges'. "Crossed the gorge about two hundred yards north, headed west! If anyone on board was looking our way, he'd have seen us. Or if they had their sensors on… They shouldn't pick up our radio traffic though. Way different wavelengths."

Unless they're scanning. "What kind of bogey?"

"A smallish craft of some sort, sir."

A smallish craft. That could be different things, some armed, some not. "Thanks, Boats. Gabaldon, are you on?"

Sergeant Gabaldon answered from the rim. "Right, Captain."

"Okay. Listen up both of you. They probably didn't see you. Otherwise they wouldn't have gone right on like they did." I hope, he added silently. "Gabaldon, get your people back aboard the Mei-Li, now! Boats, as soon as they're on board, fly south down the gorge, a mile at least, and even with the rim. Find a place where you can fit that frigging barge back into the forest, between the trees. Far enough back that you can't be seen from the gorge. Or from the air." And let's hope the Wyzhnyny don't scan the forest with grav sensors. "Another thing: when you're in your hiding place, register your coordinates to four decimals. But don't send them till I ask. Keep radio silence. Got that?"

"Yessir," Menges said. "Radio silence. Are you coming back now, sir?"

"Hell no! We've got hornets to catch! Now remember: don't send again till I tell you. Stoorvol out."

He looked toward Olavsdottir moving slowly across the burn, and clicked his helmet mike. "Doctor, a bogey may have spotted the Mei-Li. I'm moving both scooters under the trees. Continue as you are. If I trigger my alarm, crouch down and make yourselves as small as possible. And don't-repeat don't-flatten yourself on the ground."

"Thank you, Captain," she answered.

Thank you, Captain? For what? Doing my job? Stoorvol powered up his gravdrive. Don't knock courtesy, he chided himself. Sergeant Haynes started his scooter, too, and they headed for the burn's nearest edge. There, back beneath the trees, they set down about a hundred feet apart. From the burn came a pleased shout: an entomologist had found a hornet's nest. Stoorvol hoped to hell they'd get what they needed quickly. He wanted to get back to the Mei-Li and off the planet as soon as possible. The collection order called for six nests-for statistical reasons, he supposed. It could keep them out there till dark, which meant till morning. A disturbing possibility.

Achmed Menges found a suitable location, unloaded his marines again, and had two of them guide him between the trees until he saw a glade ahead. He stopped sixty or eighty feet short of it, with a clear shot to scram if he needed to. By that time the gorge was a hundred yards behind him, and marine lookouts at the rim could no longer see the boat. Menges shut down all systems except shipsmind, to reduce detection risks, then waited while the Mei-Li grew slowly hot and stuffy.

On being relieved, Tech 1 Gortha turned his log over to the new watch officer. The Wyzhnyny ensign glanced at it. "What is this?" he asked.

Gortha didn't need to look. He'd logged just one item that wasn't routine. "It's a call from the courier bringing Colonel Dorthut from Grasslands, sir. While crossing High Falls Gorge, the pilot spotted a wrecked alien craft in the bottom."

The ensign's hackles rose. "Wrecked alien craft? How did he know?"

"I suppose, sir, because none of ours is reported missing. And because there are no aliens left on the planet."

"You suppose?" The ensign's jaw muscles bulged like melon rinds along his cranial keel. The observation had been radioed in nearly five hours earlier. Such a lapse was intolerable. Reaching to the work station keyboard, he tapped three keys.

A voice issued from the desk speaker. "Dispatcher's station, Tech 1 Rrunch."

"Rrunch, this is the officer of the watch. The dispatcher you relieved-is he still there?"

"No, sir. He just left, sir."

"Get him! Now!"

"Yessir!"

The ensign heard the quick soft thudding of feet, and waited scowling, fists clenching and unclenching. There were more footfalls, then a voice. "Tech 3 Agthok, sir. How can I help you?"

"Who piloted the courier from Grasslands?"

"Tech 2 Kroliss, sir."

"How can he be found? Promptly?"

"Sir, I saw him enter the messroom about… forty minutes ago."

"Thank you." The ensign bit the words out and disconnected, then with an angry finger stabbed more keys. "This is the officer of the watch. I must speak to Tech 2 Kroliss at once."

"He just left, sir, carrying a mug of something."

"Go and get him! Tell him the watch officer wants him at the watch office NOW! And call me when you've done it!"

"Yessir!"

An unpleasant rumble issued from the watch officer's throat as he disconnected. A mug of something! he thought. As if I had any interest in that!

Tech 1 Gortha was glad Ensign Rrishnex wasn't on his watch. But he didn't ask permission to leave. He'd slip away after Kroliss arrived. He wondered why the ensign didn't just order someone else out to investigate. Probably, he decided, because Kroliss could find the place more surely.