Her hair, still tied back in a pony tail was now matted and gritty from the fine volcanic sand; the bangs were tangled in front of her eyes. All of he... equipment was still with her, though. Tracy's rebreather was still slung around her neck; her id tags were tangled around it. She still had her weapons, and her pouches were still attached and sealed.As she breathed, her chest moved up and down in a regular fashishisracy was exhausted [sic] -- beyond sleep and dreamless. She lay in the sand on. Blue eyes, silver hair, forties, lean body, expensive clothes. Nothing stood out, though the air crackled with energy around him. This guy was constantly in the ready position. And there was something about his eyes that dragged Mike's attention back, the whisper of a memory tickling his brain. He'd seen this man before, he was sure of it."Answer him," Mike said, pointing to McGee but keeping his weapon trained on the guy for an endless moment.The guy gestured toward one of the vans. "I can. More

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