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silent for a moment as Terra rose to meet them. The vast blueness of the Atlantic Ocean rolled by, quickly followed by the neat symmetry of the coastal cities, and then the dark green of the interior. Eventually the huge forests gave way to the endless interlocking circles of irrigated roboculture. Wherever he looked, McCade saw a carefully maintained balance between man and nature. He knew that when they left the ship, they'd find only clean air, and pure water. Pollution and crowding were things of the past. The damage had been repaired, and where nature seemed flawed, man had put it right. So what if the forests tended to have square corners, and the mountains seemed unusually symmetrical, a clean, safe environment was well worth it. Or that was the theory anyway. In McCade's opinion the whole thing seemed too structured, too tidy. It reminded him of something Walt would put together. Besides, he knew the problems of crowding and pollution hadn't really been solved. They'd simply been exported. Heavy industry and excess population had been shipped to other less fortunate planets, in order to make way for the neat parks and beautiful cities which now graced Terra.
    His thoughts were interrupted as they neared Main Port, better known to spacers as "The Glory Hole," the biggest civilian spaceport on the North American continent. It now covered the area which had once been designated as "Chicago." For hours now the ship's computer had been in communication with Imperial Ground Control. Initial identification, clearance, and navigational data had all been handled by the two computers. Now as they neared the spaceport, a series of approach parameters flashed on his com screen, and McCade's hands danced over the controls. Responsive as always, Pegasus wound her way through the thickening air traffic, and then lowered herself into her assigned berth.
    Once the ship's engines were shut down and secured, McCade took a moment to sweep his scanners across the surrounding area. A wide assortment of ground vehicles hurried to and fro on various errands, ships lifted and landed, but no one seemed particularly interested in Pegasus. Good. He liked it that way, even though he knew it didn't mean much. By now, Claudia, and anyone else who cared, knew they had landed. He'd considered arriving incognito, but rejected it. In spite of Terra's defenses, McCade felt sure it could be done. But there just wasn't enough time. A really effective cover would take weeks, maybe months, to establish and use. Besides, according to Walt, there was only one person who might know where to start the search. And she was apparently one of Claudia's best friends. So why bother to arrive in secret, and then be forced to come out into the open?
    Therefore, McCade had decided on the direct approach. Land, find Lady Linnea as quickly as possible, and depend on Rico and Phil to cover his back. That's why they planned to check into a hotel. Although they might be safer aboard the ship, it would be very easy to watch, and that would make it hard to slip away undetected. Hopefully the crowds and activity of a large hotel would help to cover his movements. If they were fast enough maybe they could pull it off without any trouble. "And maybe we'll run into some flying cows too," McCade muttered to himself as he strapped on his handgun, and settled its familiar weight low on his left thigh. He'd put on a new set of black leathers in honor of the occasion, and they creaked as he moved.
    Rico and Phil were already in the main lock when he arrived. Both were heavily armed. Phil wore a shoulder holster with a small submachine gun nestled in it and carried an energy rifle over his shoulder. Rico wore a sidearm and cradled a grenade launcher in his arms as well. Not that anyone would notice. The societal price for legalized assassination and interstellar bounty hunters is an armed population.
    They left the ship together, hopping aboard one of the articulated shuttles which wound