Drunnel Haske leaned back and almost fell off his stool. Now he had a cramp down his whole backbone. He twisted uselessly and let out a long breath, though without a trace of weariness. Most of the city was quiet and indoors during this drowsy midday heat. Alone in the rented workspace, Drunnel's fingers subconsciously caressed the coiled wire sitting on the wood next to him.

The tableful of documents and calculations still weren't lining up as promised. His hand rasped his chin while he scowled over the supply lists, as if to browbeat them into cooperation. Eight racks of solar spirals and twenty loads of hydroplank barrels, still in transit, would only stock half of the slots waiting empty in the north cliff. The Cormellican labs needed to shape up quick and send in materials, else he would have half a dozen men on his ass with nothing more than verbal agreements and semi-legal contracts to demand payment for. Then there would be trouble, as the sparks fly upward. Especially from those youngsters like Tiernan and Rasalas who were no less than addicted.

A device buzzed on his wrist. Drunnel pushed up his shirtsleeve, flicked open his holostrap and blinked to focus on the little display on the inside of his wrist.

"Finally," he muttered. At that moment, the creaking of stairs turned into a thumping on floorboards as someone approached. Drunnel slid half of the papers into a folder and shoved it into a drawer.

"They made it," Lakko's hoarse voice entered before he did. His starchy white shirtsleeves were rolled up as far as they could go, tattoos snaking over brawny arms. He almost ran into Drunnel, who had already plunked his hat on his head and was on his way out the door. "Three days off schedule," Lakko added, turning to follow him. "Was the backup patrol your idea?"

Drunnel didn't answer. By the time they arrived at the courtyard the thrike patrol had just appeared in the air high above. Both Haskes stood squinting up.

"Must they circle like birds of prey?" Drunnel folded his arms. Lakko let out a short laugh.

"They're predators. Times like this, they're looking for the weakest on the ground."

Drunnel scowled without looking at him. "What do you mean by that?"

The other simply sniffed and rolled his shoulders. Drunnel snorted.

"Now I know why you wanted that tripwire," he murmured. "Brains and brawn, all over again."

A deep brown pterosaur landed in a small dust storm a short distance away. The rider quickly unhooked himself and dropped to the ground, pulling off his helmet to rub his hair. By his lead the other thrikes alighted with heavy flapping thumps. Drunnel made a move to approach, but stopped when Lakko took his arm.

"Easy," was all he said. They waited in silence until the other man secured the reins in his fist and came up to them, leading the thrike. Drunnel watched the animal, noting the piercing beak, teeth, and strong, flexible neck. He imagined helpless prey disappearing down that gullet, then forced his eyes down to the handler. Pratt Harlowe's hair was pressed back from his face in a wild look, which was reflected in his bloodshot eyes. He gave a short nod, his breath still coming hard.

"Director Haske."

"Lieutenant," Drunnel replied. "I assume the operation was a success?"

Harlowe gave a huff. "Operation, huh. More of a pursuit than anything else. The herd has taken to the Northern Heights."

"Beg pardon?"

"More than fifty packers, sir," the other went on in a rush. "Eighty miles, possibly ninety, true west. Lieutenant Nadari confirmed with her team after an eight-hour drop." Lieutenant Harlowe gestured at one of the other handlers, a tall blonde who had come up close enough to insert herself into the conversation without being intrusive. Like Harlowe, she wore double gilded stripes on her uniform and drooped with fatigue.

The Haskes shared a glance, both expressions opening up into confusion. "Nothing about that makes sense," Drunnel said. "Why leave the plains, and with calves in tow? I need to know why."

His brother grimaced. "Not good. That's into Blackstone territory."

"That's not the half of it, sir," Harlowe broke in. Drunnel looked at him sharply, then couldn't help a glance up at the thrike looming just behind. The angular head twitched sideways to spear him with the stare of one keen eyeball.

Nadari spoke up, her voice scratchy as if she had been shouting, or flying into the wind for three days straight. "We're not the only ones after those packers, unless I'm full blind," she said. "At least three other bands sighted on foot. Unless we move soon, even with flight on our side, we'll need diplomacy at its finest, Director."

Drunnel felt Lakko's grin on him, and braced his jaw against the annoyance.

Cormellican needed to get a move on with those supplies.

He tried to back away from the thrike without looking like he was backing away. That weaselly eyeball was still on him.

"I need to talk to Mackrowe," he said, striding toward the service station platform with a curt gesture to them all to follow. "And someone get me a map."