She spun. Georgie stood there, looking like some kind of insect-headed man. His face was masked by a rebreather that distorted his lower head into the image of mandibles, and the starlight goggles made his eyes seem to bulge from his head. The hissing came from a cylinder in his hands. She read the designation on it just before he tossed it at her feet: dexsarin: nerve gas: aerosol vector.