She had done it first, on Zeig-Daru, with the conviction that she would not return alive; some years later she had done it on Uskos, with hope and (somewhat misplaced) confidence. This time wonder was elusive. She had borrowed too many Battleground eyes and seen too much that was gray. She fell through heavy cloud toward the underground complex called Rowtt and thought she saw—though of course they were not there—tendrils of fog seep into the capsule, Endeavor’s smallest (least threatening) shuttle. They are all special cases . . . A whisper. Joseph’s touch. Look, he whispered, only look. She broke through the clouds and slowed. Tiny, camouflaged spyeyes had scouted the site and she saw what she expected to see. This view did not excite wonder either. Expansive fields riddled with holes—impact craters, perhaps, created not by meteors but by bombs. A few wheeled vehicles in haphazard clusters. Dirt and concrete shoved into mounds that sprouted scraggly weeds, the only visible life.
