An officer announced Alexander's arrival on the bridge, and the buzz of activity halted for formalities. Alex waved people back to work. Any other day, he'd wallow in the attention, but right now it was idiotic. He stepped up to a display table beside Admiral Laughlin.

"What's happening?" Alex asked. The display showed an overhead view of South America.

"We picked up a deployment drop twenty minutes ago, Your Majesty. It skirted in from the Atlantic side of Brazil and landed near the Guyana border. The ship that deployed it came in hot, nearly two thousand kilometers per hour. It has to be them."

He pointed toward a single dot pinpointed under Central America, "They're accelerating back to cruising speed. In fifty minutes, they'll be untouchable again. Fortunately though..." He pointed to a nest of dots over Honduras. "Our squads scrambled as soon as they got the alarm, and luck was on our side. No matter their course, our boys will synchronize with them for at least six minutes before the target reaches cruising speed. After—"

The map updated. A line extending from the target dot flickered and now curved downward over the antarctic.

"They've changed course, sir," said an officer behind them. "Southward arc, at two point four two meters per second per second. Predicted change."

"And the window?"

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"Six minutes twenty-seven seconds. Their course is optimal, sir."

"Excellent." Laughlin turned to Alex. "Any course change they make now will only benefit us.

"Can they evacuate?" Alex asked.

"They can try. We've already made arrangements to shut down the local grid if they do. The evacuees will make one hell of a crater."

"And just to confirm, all pilots have shield stones with them?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Alex turned to the bridge. "And is there anyone here who is not shielded? Anyone at all?"

No one responded. He couldn't sense any auras anyway, but he was coming down a case of Sakhr's paranoia.

"You won't be in trouble if you speak up now," he said, "but you will if you don't."

"Everyone here is equipped, as ordered," said Laughlin.

"Fantastic. What about the deployment pod?"

"We've sent a team to investigate. It's touchdown area was directly next to a gridport."

Laughlin tapped controls on the display table. A small window popped up overtop of the orbital chase. It was a topographical map of a region. An arrow indicated where the pod landed. Next to it was a dot labeled "Cantá Gridway" with lines spraying from it. They were grid chutes which led to ports all over South America.

"But there was only one pod?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"How many people could have been in it?"

"They're meant for one soldier, but in a pinch, they can hold two."

"Have we heard back from the gridport?"

"Not yet."

"Are they all equipped with shield stones?"

"I don't know, ma'am. Probably not entirely. No region is fully equipped yet."

"All right then." Alex turned to leave.

"You're not staying, Your Majesty?"

"You've got this under control, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then there's no need, is there? Destroy them all and keep me posted."

"Of course, ma'am."

Any other day, Alex would have stayed, but he knew who was in that pod. He now had preparations to make. A good host should be ready for guests.