Rick yelled a site report at the Troupe while bracketing the anticyclone with the camera’s binocular photogrammetry. Jane thought anxiously about the chaff bazooka in the back. The bazooka’s chaff rounds cost so damned much that she had never had enough practice to get good with it. Rick, unfortunately, considered himself an excellent marksman, as if it were a real feat to kill deer with a silent, high-velocity, laser-sighted electric rifle. Rick was lousy with the bazooka and overconfident, while she was lousy with the bazooka but at least properly cautious about it.