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like Verafti running loose. A sobering thought indeed, but not one Sivio cared to dwell on, as the transport began to bank. “There it is,” the pilot said laconically, as he pointed toward the ground. “Station 3.”
    Back when Dantha had been used as a prison planet, and the people who were sent there had been forced to work in the mines, a series of fortified way stations had been set up. And for good reason too, because as the convicts were forced to trudge across the aptly named Plain of Pain toward the iridium-rich crater beyond, they had been easy prey for a variety of carnivores, as well as escaped convicts, who would gladly kill a “newbie” for his or her rations.
    Eventually, after other less expensive ways of obtaining iridium came online and Dantha was opened to settlement by people other than convicts, the way stations had fallen into disuse. Which meant that before the Xeno Corps personnel could make use of Station 3, it would be necessary to repair it.
    And, from what Sivio could see as he looked down on it, there was plenty of work to do. One section of the protective wall that surrounded the fortlike building was down, there was a large hole in one side of the roof, and the western defenses were nearly submerged under windblown sand. “It looks lovely,” Sivio said dryly. “I can hardly wait to move in.”
    The pilot laughed politely as he brought the boxy transport in for a landing. But the truth was that he was looking forward to off-loading Sivio, his bioengineered freaks, and the Sagathi shape shifter, who had assumed the pilot’s identity a few minutes earlier and was pretending to masturbate. It was a rather disturbing sight, which the pilot could watch via one of the cameras in the main hold but sought to ignore as a cloud of dust rose to envelop the ship.

    Jak Cato was asleep as the transport’s landing skids made contact with the ground, but opened his eyes when Sivio’s knuckles made contact with the top of his helmet. “Hello,” Sivio said experimentally. “Is anyone home?”
    The line produced a chorus of chuckles from the rest of the team, and a grunt of acknowledgment from the SL himself, as the peace officers hit their harness releases and went to work. A sweaty business, since it was hot outside, and the transport’s air-conditioning system was no match for the superheated air that invaded the hold.
    The first task was to off-load Verafti, cage and all. Not only did the pilot want to leave as soon as possible; he claimed that conditions were right for a sandstorm. Sivio had no way to gauge whether that was true, or if the pilot was simply in a hurry to leave, but there was no reason to tarry. So Sivio ordered his officers to roll the cage down the metal ramp, onto the hardpan, and into the walled compound beyond.
    Having grown tired of impersonating the pilot, Verafti had reverted to his true form by then, and was uncharacteristically silent as Cato and four members of his section pushed the rolling cage under a stone archway and into the courtyard. Except for some chunks of fallen rock, and a cluster of sand-drifted campfires, the area was empty. Beyond it stood a structure made of tightly fitted stone. The front steps were visible, as were an open door, and the relatively cool darkness beyond. “Welcome home,” Cato said, as the cage rattled across the courtyard. “It’s better than you deserve!”
    But Verafti was busy taking it all in, memorizing every detail, as the variants were forced to stop in front of the stairs. “It looks like we’re going to have to build a ramp,” Cato announced sourly. “Kelkaw, take Tonver, and return to the transport. See what you can find. We’ll wait here.”
    Once the variants had left, Cato posted guards, and set off to reconnoiter. After activating his helmet light the noncom entered the dark, gloomy building. The white blob led him past an office, and what might have been a guardroom, into a large space that was partially