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.A parking garage in Pentagon City.An outdoor seafood restaurant in Cabo San Lucas.On the ferry to Staten Island.Pete had never known his patron to miss a rendezvous by so much as a microsecond.The sky went dirty white.A sizzle, a sparkle, a zenith full of stink.A screaming-streaking-tumbling.A nasty thunderclap.The ground shook hard.“Dang,” Pete said.They found the Lieutenant Colonel just before eight in the morning.Pieces of his landing pod were violently scattered across half a kilometer.Katrinko and Pete skulked expertly through a dirty yellow jumble of wind-grooved boulders.Their camou gear switched coloration moment by moment, to match the landscape and the incidental light.Pete pried the mask from his face, inhaled the thin, pitiless, metallic air, and spoke aloud.“That’s our boy all right.Never missed a date.”The neuter removed her mask and fastidiously smeared her lips and gums with silicone anti-evaporant.Her voice fluted eerily over the insistent wind.“Space-defense must have tracked him on radar.”“Nope.If they’d hit him from orbit, he’d really be spread all over.… No, something happened to him really close to the ground.” Pete pointed at a violent scattering of cracked ochre rock.“See, check out how that stealth-pod hit and tumbled.It didn’t catch fire till after the impact.”With the absent ease of a gecko, the neuter swarmed up a three-story-high boulder.She examined the surrounding forensic evidence at length, dabbing carefully at her spex controls.She then slithered deftly back to earth.“There was no anti-aircraft fire, right? No interceptors flyin’ round last night.”“Nope.Heck, there’s no people around here in a space bigger than Delaware.”The neuter looked up.“So what do you figure, Pete?”“I figure an accident,” said Pete.“A what?”“An accident.A lot can go wrong with a covert HALO insertion.”“Like what, for instance?”“Well, G-loads and stuff.System malfunctions.Maybe he just blacked out.”“He was a federal military spook, and you’re telling me he passed out?” Katrinko daintily adjusted her goggled spex with gloved and bulbous fingertips.“Why would that matter anyway? He wouldn’t fly a spacecraft with his own hands, would he?”Pete rubbed at the gummy line of his mask, easing the prickly indentation across one dark, tattooed cheek.“I kinda figure he would, actually.The man was a pilot.Big military prestige thing.Flyin’ in by hand, deep in Sphere territory, covert insertion, way behind enemy lines.… That’d really be something to brag about, back on the Potomac.”The neuter considered this sour news without apparent resentment.As one of the world’s top technical climbers, Katrinko was a great connoisseur of pointless displays of dangerous physical skill.“I can get behind that.” She paused.“Serious bad break, though.”They resealed their masks.Water was their greatest lack, and vapor exhalation was a problem.They were recycling body-water inside their suits, topped off with a few extra cc’s they’d obtained from occasional patches of frost.They’d consumed the last of the trail-goop and candy from their glider shipment three long days ago.They hadn’t eaten since.Still, Pete and Katrinko were getting along pretty well, living off big subcutaneous lumps of injected body fat.More through habit than apparent need, Pete and Katrinko segued into evidence-removal mode.It wasn’t hard to conceal a HALO stealth pod.The spycraft was radar-transparent and totally biodegradable.In the bitter wind and cold of the Taklamakan, the bigger chunks of wreckage had already gone all brown and crispy, like the shed husks of locusts.They couldn’t scrape up every physical trace, but they’d surely get enough to fool aerial surveillance.The Lieutenant Colonel was extremely dead.He’d come down from the heavens in his full NAFTA military power-armor, a leaping, brick-busting, lightning-spewing exoskeleton, all acronyms and input jacks.It was powerful, elaborate gear, of an entirely different order than the gooey and fibrous street tech of the two urban intrusion freaks.But the high-impact crash had not been kind to the armored suit.It had been crueler still to the bone, blood, and tendon housed inside.Pete bagged the larger pieces with a heavy heart.He knew that the Lieutenant Colonel was basically no good: deceitful, ruthlessly ambitious, probably crazy.Still, Pete sincerely regretted his employer’s demise.After all, it was precisely those qualities that had led the Lieutenant Colonel to recruit Spider Pete in the first place.Pete also felt sincere regret for the gung-ho, clear-eyed young military widow, and the two little redheaded kids in Augusta, Georgia.He’d never actually met the widow or the little kids, but the Lieutenant Colonel was always fussing about them and showing off their photos.The Lieutenant Colonel had been a full fifteen years younger than Spider Pete, a rosy-cheeked cracker kid really, never happier than when handing over wads of money, nutty orders, and expensive covert equipment to people whom no sane man would trust with a burnt-out match.And now here he was in the cold and empty heart of Asia, turned to jam within his shards of junk.Katrinko did the last of the search-and-retrieval while Pete dug beneath a ledge with his diamond hand-pick, the razored edges slashing out clods of shale.After she’d fetched the last blackened chunk of their employer, Katrinko perched birdlike on a nearby rock.She thoughtfully nibbled a piece of the pod’s navigation console.“This gelbrain is good when it dries out, man.Like trail mix, or a fortune cookie.”Pete grunted.“You might be eating part of him, y’know.”“Lotta good carbs and protein there, too.”They stuffed a final shattered power-jackboot inside the Colonel’s makeshift cairn.The piled rock was there for the ages.A few jets of webbing and thumbnail dabs of epoxy made it harder than a brick wall.It was noon now, still well below freezing, but as warm as the Taklamakan was likely to get in January.Pete sighed, dusted sand from his knees and elbows, stretched.It was hard work, cleaning up; the hardest part of intrusion work, because it was the stuff you had to do after the thrill was gone.He offered Katrinko the end of a fiber-optic cable, so that they could speak together without using radio or removing their masks.Pete waited until she had linked in, then spoke into his mike.“So we head on back to the glider now, right?”The neuter looked up, surprised.“How come?”“Look, Trink, this guy that we just buried was the actual spy in this assignment.You and me, we were just his gophers and backup support.The mission’s an abort.”“But we’re searching for a giant, secret rocket base.”“Yeah, sure we are.”“We’re supposed to find this monster high-tech complex, break in, and record all kinds of crazy top secrets that nobody but the mandarins have ever seen.That’s a totally hot assignment, man.”Pete sighed.“I admit it’s very high-concept, but I’m an old guy now, Trink.I need the kind of payoff that involves some actual money.”Katrinko laughed
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