She inched forward, gun ready, trying to get used to the lower gravity. The crackle of small explosions and the smell of burning metal grew. Further around the dome, she saw marks on the concrete boulevard. Light at first, a thin white scratch that grew as she moved forward. The scratch became a gouge, a tear, the color shifting from white, to gray, then black. It was the impact line of something moving fast. She abandoned her crouch and jogged forward, scanning for IEDs.