“And you look like an invasion force,” Mabel said, setting Pickers gently on the floor before reaching up to touch the brim of her hat. “It keeps the sun out. It’s bright here.”

It was. Ample’s sun was surprisingly strong, but the air was just warm, not hot. Perfect growing weather. “What are we here for again?”

“Ground nuts,” Mabel said. “Assuming my order got through.”

I made a face. “We’re shipping nuts?”

“We’ve been doing that for years,” Mabel said with a laugh. “And for your information, Ample’s ground nuts are excellent profit per pound. Out here the price is low, but when we get closer to the Seval we can charge through the nose for them.”

That perked me up. “We’re going to the Seval?” Maybe I would get to see some birds after all.

“With an aeon for a pilot?” Mabel snorted. “Can’t avoid it. It’s the pull.”

I frowned. “Pull?”

“The homing instinct.”

I gave her a blank look, and Mabel tried again. “Aeons feel a constant pull toward their home planet. That’s why they’re the best navigators in the galaxy, because no matter where they are in the universe, they always know which direction home is, no equipment needed. And the farther away from the Seval they are, the stronger the pull gets. That’s why the Sevalis controls such a relatively small area of space even though aeons outnumber humans two to one. They’re trying to stay close to home.” She paused, thinking. “Being near other aeons helps too, I’m told. That’s why you’ll never find an aeon city that doesn’t look like they’re all trying to stack on top of one another. Comfort in numbers.”

“I guess that explains why Basil is always in such a bad mood,” I said. “He’s all alone.”

Mabel’s eyebrows shot up. “What are you talking about? Basil’s a doll for an aeon.”

I grimaced, suddenly glad that our section of Ample was so empty. If Basil was a doll, I never wanted to meet another aeon.

“Though I imagine he’ll be a pill for the next few weeks,” Mabel went on with a sigh. “The flock mentality can make him as pecky as the rest.”

I was about to ask what she meant by that when the heavy sound of boots cut me off. We both looked up to see Caldswell coming down the cargo bay steps. Rashid was there too, suited up and serene as always. Next to him, the captain looked downright sour. “You ready to get this over with?”

“Just waiting on you,” Mabel said.

Caldswell nodded and turned to me. “We should be back before dark. Keep up normal patrols and don’t slack just because there’s nothing around but plants and tractors.”

I straightened up with a scowl. “With all due respect, sir, I don’t slack.”

To my surprise, Caldswell smiled at that. “I know, Morris, I know,” he said, trotting down the ramp after Mabel. “Keep an eye on the new kid.”

Rashid was fifty if he was a day, but he didn’t seem bothered in the slightest by the captain’s comment. He was dressed for business, too, with his sniper and assault rifle strapped over his back. He’d moved both pistols to thigh holsters to make room at his waist for an ammo belt that put my spare clips to shame, and there was a broad tactical knife at the small of his back that, judging from the wear on its handle, had seen a lot of use.

I looked him over with an appreciative whistle. “Ready for a war?”

He shrugged. “Considering the reputation of this ship, it seemed wise.”

I couldn’t help laughing at that. “If you knew what you were getting into, I’m surprised you took the job at all.”

“A man must eat,” Rashid replied, resting his hands on his pistol grips as he watched Mabel and Caldswell get into the nicer of the ship’s two atmospheric skimmers and set off for the city. “And I am good at staying alive.”

Looking at his arsenal, I believed it. “How do you want to work this?”

“It should be simple, I think,” Rashid said, pulling his handset out of one of his chest pockets. He flipped it open, hit a few buttons, and then turned it around for me to see.

My eyes widened. His handset screen was divided up into ten small squares, each showing a different scene, but it still took me a few moments to realize that I was looking at a grid of the Fool’s security camera feeds. All of them.

“Holy shit,” I said, grabbing the handset from him. “How did you get this?”

Rashid shrugged. “I asked Miss Starchild to patch me into the ship’s security system.” He gave me a look that, were it any less polite, would have been insultingly smug. “We are paid to be watchers. It seems absurd, then, not to watch with all the eyes available.”

I could have punched myself in the face. I’d been on this ship for over three months now and it had never even occurred to me that I could ask for such a thing. Before I could get really pissed, though, Rashid took his handset back with a self-deprecating smile.

“Do not think I am so clever, Miss Morris. It is just experience. I’ve been told you were a Blackbird mercenary before this, used to far bigger worries. I, on the other hand, have been doing security work for many years, and I am well acquainted with all the little shortcuts.” His smile widened. “Old dogs pick up many tricks in time.”

I shook my head with a grin of my own. “I am so glad we hired you.”

“I am delighted to hear it,” Rashid said. “Now, as I was saying, I think I will set up on the roof and keep an eye on the cameras.”

“And I’ll take the ground,” I said with a nod. “Guns up top, armor on bottom.” Smooth and professional.

Just the thought made me feel better. I try not to indulge in self-pity, but things had been rough for me lately. After making such an idiot of myself in front of the cook last night, executing a smooth, professional job with a man who knew what he was doing sounded like heaven.

Since the hatch hadn’t been part of our tour, I took Rashid up to the Fool’s roof myself. It was a good position for a sniper. There were no other ships on the landing field, and the terrain here was so flat you could see for miles in all directions. Still, I made sure he had everything he needed before hopping off the ship.

I might have been showing off a little, but after Rashid had shown me up so badly with the cameras, I was in the mood to prove something. My suit handled the eight-story drop from the Fool’s highest point with barely a twinge. I landed perfectly, rolling to my feet to the sound of Rashid’s polite praise over our com.

And that was the height of excitement for the day. The fine weather lured everyone out of the ship. Even Hyrek went outside. When I asked him only half jokingly if his leaving the ship voluntarily was a sign of the apocalypse, he’d given me a superior look and told me he wasn’t afraid of aeons.

“Why not?” I asked. “They can shoot, too.”

But they usually don’t, Hyrek typed, his sharp teeth gleaming in the sunlight. Though they are now far removed from their roots, humans were originally predators. Aeons, however, are prey through and through. Most humans will react with violence if startled or threatened. Birds always run. His toothy smile widened. It’s very entertaining.

“Well,” I said. “Try to keep the stampede away from the ship.”

I’ll see what I can manage, Hyrek replied, strolling out across the grass in long, ground-eating strides.

In the end, the only person who didn’t go out was Basil. At first, I thought he was just being a grump like normal, but when he wouldn’t even come down for lunch, I began to suspect that he was hiding. Other than my curiosity, though, our bird’s behavior wasn’t inconveniencing me, and I didn’t give it much thought until just before sunset when three trucks drove into the field and parked beside the Fool’s ramp.

Not surprising considering where we were, the drivers were aeons. Beautiful ones, too, with electric blue and green feathers that looked much too fine for farmwork. The vehicles were aeon designed with the cab on top, which put the drivers nearly eleven feet off the ground. Still, the birds made the jump down with casual grace, flapping to a delicate landing at the foot of the Fool’s ramp.

There were six aeons in all, two for each truck. Once they were out, they grouped up in a tight knot and strolled into the cargo bay like they owned it. As they got closer, I saw that their talons had been painted to match their feathers, and several of them wore gold rings on their necks, almost like necklaces. It was a very striking look, and I smiled as I walked out to greet them.

“Can I help you?”

The largest of the birds, a huge, beautiful creature with a dazzling crest of aquamarine feathers, whistled at me, a long series of notes followed by a chirp that sounded like a question. I asked again, but all I got was more whistling, and that was when I realized these birds didn’t understand Universal.

It had been so long since I’d met anyone who didn’t speak the universe’s second language that I wasn’t sure what to do, and then I remembered I had a bird of my own. Basil was extremely put out about being asked to play translator, but I didn’t have an aeon language program in my suit and I wasn’t about to make these birds run everything they said through the ship’s computer when I had a perfectly good aeon on board. I won in the end, and Basil came down, though from the way he trudged into the cargo bay, you’d have thought I was sending him to face a firing squad.

All the birds perked up when Basil appeared, their heads swiveling as one to watch him walk down the steps. A few of them even raised their wings a little, making them look larger. By contrast, Basil looked shrunken, so much so that I didn’t realize he was actually slightly taller than all but the largest of the new birds until he was standing next to me.

The aeon’s leader began to whistle at once. Basil whistled back and turned to me. “They’re here to deliver our shipment.”

“I guessed that much,” I said, glancing at the packed trucks. “Tell them to go ahead and load it into the bay.”

Basil began to whistle again, but the other bird cut him off with a sharp whistle that sank to a delicate trill accompanied by a shake of its feathers, almost like a girl tossing her hair. Basil’s eyes went wide at the motion, and he took a step back. The bird followed him, trilling again as it gracefully spread its wings to reveal the beautiful splash of orange across the inside.

Basil shivered like he’d been dunked in ice water, but I was grinning wide behind my visor. I might not know squat about aeon culture, but it didn’t take a genius to guess what was going on. The beautiful feathers, the painted talons, the jewelry, the soft trilling … clearly, our little Basil had caught the eyes of some lovely local lady birds on the prowl for some fun.

When the first bird spread her wings wider and ducked her head, looking up at Basil through her short, spiky lashes, I decided it was time to stop being a buzz kill and leave Basil to his admirers. Who knew? Maybe getting lucky would chill him out a bit. I nodded politely at the birds and started down the ramp toward the trucks to get a look at the cargo, but before I’d taken two steps, Basil said, “Don’t go, Morris.”

I froze. It was hard to identify emotions other than scorn in the aeon’s chirping voice, but I could have sworn Basil sounded afraid. The other aeons must have heard it too, because suddenly they were all moving forward with their wings spread, their beautiful whistles turning to angry squawks. Basil squawked back, pulling himself up straight for the first time since he’d entered the cargo bay.

I’ve never wished I’d sprung for a translation program as much as I did at that moment. I would have paid a month’s wage to know what Basil had just said, because it hit the other birds like a match to a firecracker. All at once, the aeons were right in Basil’s face, pushing him with their large wings. He stumbled back under the onslaught, tripping over his normally graceful legs. The others closed the distance in a flash, their painted claws lashing out to slash Basil’s wings, only to hit my suit as I stepped into the fray.