Brandy smiled as she checked the disposition of her troops. Oh, there’d been enough screwups-everybody knew there’d be screwups. There was always going to be somebody in the latrine or the shower or otherwise less than prepared to have the whistle blow right now. Brick and Street were going to have people making wisecracks about their simultaneous arrival at their stations, both more than half out of uniform, for weeks to come. And Super-Gnat had taken a pratfall that might have been grounds for medical evacuation if Tusk-anini hadn’t nudged her just enough for her head to miss a heavy structural beam. But everybody was in place, more or less ready for action, and now all they had to do was wait and see if there was going to be any action. Easier said than done.
The unidentified ship was definitely on course to land at their encampment; nobody doubted that now. Mother had been trying to hail it for several minutes, but the local interference was noticeably stronger. Maybe their signals had gotten through, and maybe not. Transponder signals indicated that the intruder was an Alliance transport of a standard model, although a clever enemy could fake that very easily. The best policy was to be ready for trouble. Brandy just hoped they were ready for the right kind of trouble. As to whether they could handle it-well, that was what they were paying her for, wasn’t it?
The ship swooped lower, losing speed now. Brandy knew there would be weapons trained on it, in case of hostile action on its part; but if the transponder readings were correct, this model wasn’t likely to be armed-or armored, either. That didn’t rule out jury-rigged weaponry or a faked signal. She lifted her wrist and spoke into the communicator. “Any word from that ship, Mother?”