“Should only be one guy on this thing,” she announced as she entered. “But he appears to be a bit on the arrogant side. Either way, let’s play it safe. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” they both agreed.

“Enrique, you and Holmes take starboard. We’ll go port side. Forty-five degree attack angles. If it gets ugly, try to maim, not kill.” She didn’t wait for a response, instead immediately trotting off to her right and making her way down the sides of the hangar bay until she reached a good position behind some large containers on the port side of the bay, facing aft. Across the bay from her, Enrique and Holmes were taking up similar positions.

“We’re in position,” she announced to the bridge over her comm-set.

“Copy, the airlock is nearly cycled. The doors should be opening momentarily,” Nathan reported over the comms.

A few moments later, the massive door on the center transfer airlock began sliding up into the ceiling, along with the sound of the gears and motors driving it. Beyond the door was the same spacecraft that only minutes ago was buzzing about their ship like an annoying insect. They watched as the ship began to slowly roll forward from the transfer airlock into the hangar bay. Once clear of the airlock, the door automatically closed again, ready for another recovery. Even though they had left Earth without any of their auxiliary spacecraft, the airlocks were automated so as to enable the launch and recovery of spacecraft even during complete control failures.

Unlike the time she had lain in wait for the arrival of Marak’s ship a few days ago, this time the hangar was fully lit, and she made no attempt to conceal her position from their guest. As a counter to his arrogance, she wished him to be fully aware that his presence did not intimidate them. It was simply another angle of the psychological side of warfare that she had been taught in spec-ops.