The carousing was in full swing as Sayeeda was shoved none to gently out the front gate of the old cannery. With deliberate ostentation she shot the cuffs of her jacket and then began to walk north east towards the spaceport. The road was littered with drunks and junkies so she cut cross country through the cactus festooned scrub land. This place was not entirely free of the human ruin of Teosinte but such desperados and burn outs as populated the place gave her a wide berth. Pussy was cheap in the city and an obviously armed woman with a clear goal in mind apparently didn’t tempt anyone overmuch.
 
Out away from the town itself the landscape took on a more pleasant air. Sayeeda wondered if more normal people might have enjoyed the warm night breeze and the subtle perfume of cactus flowers rather than calculating 290 degree sightline out to 15 clicks, noting several small gullies in which a half squad might be concealed, and mapping a line of retreat back to town and a break out towards the spaceport as possible options if attacked. Well she was who she was.
 
The spaceport lights, never entirely shut off grew brighter as she hiked across the increasingly barren landscape. Not many of these burned but several ancient flood lights provided a significant beacon. Not for the first time Sayeeda considered how shabby Teosinte was. There was plenty of money in the drugs that were produced here and it should have been enough to give the place at least a twadry splendor. Both gangs were clearly squeezing the people as hard as they could to hire gunmen and import the weapons and arms needed to keep them in the field, to the extent that term had any meaning to such bands of armed thugs, and the result was that what might be a tolerable place to do business was dying slowly on the vine. Not for the first time Sayeeda considered whether it might be better just to blast off now they had the charts the needed, find some other place and… and what? Find some other less risky more rewarding fight? The thought sobered her enough that for a moment she wished she had stopped at one of the bars for a bottle.
 
“Get your head in the game,” she whispered harshly to herself as she reached the chainlink fence which served as the outer perimeter of the spaceport. She had notice on her initial landing that not only did it lack electricity or sensors, but it was so rusted that its use as a security screen was laughable. She parted it by the simple expedient of driving her boot into the ancient corroded links close to one of the support poles, close enough that the tension tore the metal appart with a musical twang. Slipping through she began to trace the blast wall, walking counter clockwise till she reached the back gate within thirty seconds of her mental projected arrival. It wasn’t locked but their was a bar with several empty cans tied to it which would make noise if hastily removed. She pulled it aside with a clatter, cycled the door open and then slipped through, locking the door behind her. Passing through the underground access way, recessed into the dirt to prevent blast damage from obliterating the all she emerged onto the cracked concrete of the landing field. She could see the light of a jeep across beside the bulk of the Highlander and saw the familiar shapes of Saxon and Neil as well as Taya’s golden hair. Saxon appeared to be holding a gun on several locals who seemed to be very sensibly avoiding any sudden movements.

“I’m coming in from the west,” she broadcast over the comm after twigging the transmitter with a rewired nerve impulse. Saxon probably wouldn’t shoot her by accident, but startling a team member in a tight situation wasn’t a good move. Taya and Neil glanced her way and she jogged across the tarmac to join them.

“It is getting to be nearly time,” she informed them, ignoring the locals, both of whom had their hands up. She squeezed Neil’s shoulder briefly, glad that the Stinger hadn’t decided t have him killed out of stupid spite.

“Just got to get some gear.”