Aliens vs Predator: War

1

They set down just after dawn, or whatever passed for it on the unnamed planet; the dirty light from two distant stars lay across the rocky world like smog, an early bath of murky yellow haze that did nothing to improve Noguchi's mood. It looked like gaseous piss, and even with the steady pump of adrenaline coursing through her, the intensity that came from knowing she was about to face death, she found herself wondering if it was worth it anymore.

In the back. Again. After so many training Hunts that I could teach them myself . . .

They waited for the signal in the main loading dock, the planet's ugly surface displayed on a small screen set into the door. Flashes of glistening black darted across the screen, raising the level of greedy an-ticipation in the stuffy, overwarm air. Noguchi tried to breathe evenly, wishing that the masks had a better fil-ter system; it was hot, dark, and she couldn't get away from Hunter muskDia-shui, they called it, along with a clicking that she couldn't pronounce. It was a cloving.

animal smell, and the heat made her feel like she was bathing in it.

Probably not so hot up front. Where I belong.

It wasn't a new thought, but it still stung. Noguchi shook herself mentally, working to slide into the focus she would need, to concentrate her energy—but it wouldn't come. She felt overheated and irritated, crowded by the towering young males all around her. The suits had individual thermostats, but even at the low end they were well over human comfort levels, and since the unnamed planet was cold by Hunter standards, the others had theirs cranked up. The heat from their suits combined with the thick, oily musk they secreted, created a humid, feral atmosphere alive with the clicking growls of barely checked excitement. At one time, the sounds and smells had excited her, too, but today it only made her wonder again if this was where she wanted to be.

Focus, focus, focus . . .

Right. It didn't matter that she was in the back, or in themiddle of the back, the worst position from which to score a kill. Didn't matter that she bore Broken Tusk's mark and wasstill Hunting from the least honor-able position—

—stop it! Focus or die, you can't have both.

Beneath the sweaty face mask, Noguchi gritted her teeth, silently cursing her wounded pride. It wasn't the time or place to be bemoaning her lot or letting her emotions take over; this was a queen Hunt. It wouldn't be scored, not burner only, but that didn't mean it was going to be a walk. She kept her gaze front and center, rinding Topknot's raised claw and fixing on it. She couldn't see the Leader from her position—most yautja stood two and a half meters, some taller—but the tal-oned fingers were visible to everyone in the pyramid formation. There were five half-trained novices in a line in front of her, three on either side; the three lead positions were for the more experienced Hunters—

—where I should be—

—and though the Leader was almost always in front, one of the two males behind Topknot had been unBlooded on her first Hunt; even then, she'd out-ranked him, and on the last Hunt, she'd killed six drones, only one behind Topknot himself—but beingooman, as they called it, meant that she'd pulled rear guard. Again.

At least you 're here; he could have denied you even this. There are twentysomething trainees just hissing to take your spot. Better to place low than not to place at all—

There was a shuddering rumble all around, the me-tallic floor shaking underfoot and a flash of brilliant light on the small viewscreen as the ship's weapons laid down cover. Topknot chittered a command and the other yautja raised their burners, growling excitedly, jostling each other in anticipation. Topknot signed as he spoke, one of the simple gestures that was specific to Hunting. "Prepare" was the gist of it, the raised claw twisting back and forth, the talons curled into a fist.

Noguchi held her own burner high, the dark metal of the alien rifle hot and heavy in her hands, feeling her heart start to beat faster. A glance at the screen showed an increase in lithe movement as another rum-ble shook the ship, as beams of burning light from the carrier shot into the early-morning haze and black bod-ies flew.

Topknot let out a battle cry, a guttural shriek of bloodlust that pierced the wet heat and brought the others to a frenzy point. More screeching cries and vio-lent hisses filled the shadowy dock, the musk smell growing thicker as the Hunters screamed, shaking back their ropelike locks, holding their weapons high. The passion, thehunger was impossible to ignore and Nogu-chi let it in, her own howling voice lost in the furor, joyously reminded of the reasons she'd joined with them in the first place. She wasn't yautja and maybe they hated her for it, but she shared this one thing with them, this religion of spirit that defined her deepest self.

The Hunt. The kill.

Still screaming, Topknot opened the door and they plunged out into the hazy morning light, a thousand dark drones running to meet them and howling their own warrior cries, teeth dripping and arms grasping. Noguchi picked her first target and fired, feeling noth-ing but alive.

The queen had called all of her minions home, and though the ship was less than a hundred meters from the hive, they had to fight for every centimeter. Even from her guarded position, Noguchi took out five within the first minute, and the unBlooded were killing beyond their wildest expectations. Even though it wasn't to be officially scored, there was some small honor in numbers.

The hive was in a marshy area and the splashes of the spiny, taloned bugs as they came was a pounding storm, tails whipping up muck, shining exoskeletons mottled with black mud. They didn't come in waves but in a wave; there was no lull in the onslaught, no time to breathe between kills. It was a tsunami of nee-dle teeth and razor claws, of grinning, trumpeting death.

Noguchi didn't think. She danced, swirling and feinting, spinning and firing explosive heat through the wall of bodies. Behind to the left, a shrieking, elongated skull blown into shards. Claws and arms flying in mul-tiple directions, legs smashed and falling, grinning metal teeth shattering. An alien chest bursting with a splash of green acid, the blood hitting the murky water, the swamp turning to bubbling steam before the Hunt-ers had gone a third of the distance.

The fire from the ship continued to clear a path through the worst of it, but there was still no break in the

running bodies. Like ants or bees, the drones sacri-ficed themselves to protect their queen mother, an in-dividual's life meaningless to the good of the hive. They came from everywhere at her beckoning, alerted by

some pheromone or telepathy; not even the Hunters knew.

The scents of slime and musk, of fire and some dark and unnatural thing, ofalien filled the hot, close space inside Noguchi's mask. She didn't smell it, didn't feel the steaming heat, didn't see anything but the next tar-get. And the next. And the next, as the small band of Hunters pushed on to the nest, leaving broken, bleed-ing creatures in their wake.

As the wall of animals began to thin, Noguchi didn't notice; she was too intent on the blast of blue-white heat coming from the end of her burner, the crash of imploding light that tore into each hard alien body and left it dying or dead. Topknot had stopped at the mouth of the huge, high, rounded shell made of sleek and dusky alien secretion, the queen's egg-laying chamber and home. The drones wouldn't risk damag-ing the eggs; they were still coming, but the reckless-ness of their attack had dropped. However they communicated with their queen, they knew to be care-ful the closer they came to the nest.

Another bug, down, another screaming, clutching monster rushing at her—

—and she was roughly shoved aside.

"Hey! Dammit—"

Noguchi stumbled, hard, her concentration blown for the half second it took her to realize what had hap-pened. She reflexively brought her burner up, pointed it at her assailant, but didn't fire.

Fuckingbastard—

The competition for kills on the Hunt was fierce, but there had been no call for what the yautja had done. Except for a very few, the drones had broken off their attack; it gave her ample time to hate him as he took out the drone in her stead. Shorty. Of all the nov-ices, he was the one most often singled out as a target by the others; he was barely a head taller than she, dis-tinctly undersized, and in the weeks that his group had

trained under Topknot, he'd gone out of his way to take out his frustrations on her.

"Ell-osde' pauk!"Noguchi snarled at him, the yautja equivalent of "fuck you." She'd heard it often enough.

Shorty let out a stream of derisive language. She caught only part of itpyode amedha, "soft meat," a slur for human, and a negative yautja sound for female. She wasn't particularly insulted until she heard her own words echoed back at her.

"—lei-k' hey, dammit,ka'tun-de!"

He laughed, then, an imitation of human laughter, a braying mockery. Yautja didn't laugh like that; like the mimicry, it was meant to offend.

There wasn't time to dwell on it. Topknot had al-ready stepped into the gaping black mouth of the hive and one of the other Blooded was motioning the train-ees "inside, covering, only a few dozen bugs still

at-tempting to get close to them. Noguchi shoved past the laughing Hunter, forcing her anger aside as the thick stench of rotting animal flesh washed over her from the darkness. Nests were dangerous, and being pissed at Shorty would take up too much of her awareness.

Doesn't matter. Let him laugh.He didn't know how much better at the Hunt she was than he, and with any luck, she'd soon find opportunity to demonstrate—

—and even as she thought it, she saw a glistening string of liquid drip down from above, a long and sticky drop that spooled past her, almost invisible in the thick shadows. Topknot and most of the others were several meters in front of her, edging into deeper shadow—

—and as she leapt to one side, raising her burner, the drone dropped from above, landing in a crouch only a few meters away, but not facing her. It was si-lent and quick, its body blending into the dusky light, and Shorty didn't see it until it reached for him.

Noguchi allowed herself a second of total satisfac-tion as the drone snatched at Shorty's arm, its claws landing heavily on his burner, blocking him from de-fense. An experienced Hunter might still have a

chance, there were the wrist blades, but Shorty was ba-sically fucked.

What goes around . . .

She was in position, but she waited a beat longer until she was absolutely sure that he understood how badly he'd screwed up. She wished she had more time to savor it, but the revenge, however sweet, was still secondary to survival inside the hive. She took a deep breath, and then she did the worst thing she could pos-sibly do to Shorty.

The blast from her weapon caught the bug in its ab-domen, its snaking green guts blown off into the dark. Even with the alien screams from outside, Noguchi could hear the gangly body clatter to the floor, and the silent appraisal from the Hunters behind her was a palatable thing. No way they'd missed what had hap-pened.

The mask hid her grin, and there was no point in laughing. If there was any greater dishonor in Clan eti-quette, she'd never heard of it. Not only had he been denied an honorable death, his peers and betters had just seen him have his fighting done for him—and by an alien, no less, one even smaller than he.

Shorty stood perfectly still, head tilted down at the drone body. One of the other young males started to laugh, a clattering, trilling sound that always made her think of a bird with a broken windpipe trying to sing. He was quickly joined by the others.

Not so much fun being laughed at, is it?

Noguchi shot a look at the assembled Hunters in time to see Topknot signal "enough" and growl a com-mand to Shorty. She only recognized the sound of his name, but knew what Topknot had asked even before Shorty walked stiffly toward the Leader; he'd been as-signed to be in the middle of the hive line, protected front and back.

He wouldn't laugh at her anymore, but it would be wisest not to let her guard down until Shorty was Blooded and gone. She almost felt bad for him, but reminded herself that if he wasn't such an asshole, she would have let him die; he deserved the dishonor,

for being such a goddamn bully.

Topknot signaled for them to proceed, Noguchi tak-ing her position second to last—Shorty's place. When someone screwed up in battle, the other yautja gener-ally congratulated each other on getting a better spot, a growling, shoving version of a high five—but no one would look at her, and as they started down the entry tunnel, the temperature and humidity rising with each uneven step, Noguchi felt as isolated and ignored as usual.

Doesn't matter, I don't need their approval to Hunt and if I wanted friends, 1 would have left Ryushi with the colo-nists, gone back to Earth.

Where she'd never had any friends.

Before they'd gone ten meters, all of her defenses were securely back in place. The queen was close, and the thrill of knowing she'd be facing a queen mother again, even as part of a team, would go a long way to compensate for the loneliness of the past year. The drones were as stupid and mindless as ants, but the egg-layer, the queen . . .

An opponent worthy of respect, cunning and re-sourceful—and one she felt more of a connection to than any of the yautja she'd encountered, with the ex-ception of the one they'd called Dachande, Broken Tusk. The one who'd died after Blooding her, after the massacre on Ryushi. The one who'd led her to believe that the yautja were a race capable of appreciating any skilled Hunter, no matter what species—

Behind her, Scar clattered an angry warning for her to move faster and kicked at the back of her leg. It would have hurt if she hadn't stepped quickly forward at the sound of his voice. As unpopular as Shorty was, he was yautja—and even after such a monumental fuckup, he was still more popular than she.

So much for appreciation. Noguchi clenched her jaw and reminded herself that the queen was close.

2

Ellis was strapped in and asleep, and Jess obviously wasn't in the mood to talk; he stared sullenly at the vidscreen from the copilot seat, at the passing black of space as he'd done for the last four hours. Not a word, and although Lara wouldn't have minded a little conversation, she didn't want to invade his privacy. Privacy on the small shuttle meant closing your eyes when someone needed to pee, a difficult enough activity in zero grav; if Jess wanted to be alone with his thoughts, she could at least give him that.

Not much point in making small talk anyway . . .

Lara closed her tired, grainy eyes for a moment, amazed that the thought of their upcoming deaths hadn't lost any of its punch. They'd lived with it for al-most three days, and it still made her stomach knot each time she thought of it, even after the nightmare of 949. She'd been prepared, then, with other lives de-pending on her actions. Now, though . . . she didn't want to die, and she particularly didn't want to die from asphyxiation in a cramped, cold shuttle in the depths of space. Even with the patch job on the filters.

they only had another fifteen, twenty hours of breathe time. And though DS 949 hadn't been as DS as most, the shuttle's bare-bones navigation system was strictly self-contained, no hookups, not even a list of planets or 'toids in the quadrant; it had been designed as a go-between, ship to shore, not for deep-space transport— which meant, simply, that if there was anywhere to go, they weren't going to find

it.

She opened her eyes, looking again at the trail of glowing green numbers on the small console screen. They'd been headed .82 since bailing from the termi-nal, only because she thought she remembered a sur-vey office somewhere in the low eights; it was a long shot, but it wasn't like they had any alternatives. If they were on theNemesis, they'd have been picked up by now; their old ship had been wired for serious range—

—and it was blown to shit along with Pop, the station, and about a million alien bugs. Why not wish for something you can have, like freeze-dried bean curd? Or a nap?

Sleep sounded good. She'd caught a few hours ear-lier, but it had been more like falling unconscious than real sleep. Ellis had been knocked out for most of their trip, which was just as well; the Max interface had done a number on him, and not just physically. The kid had saved their lives, for what it was worth, but it had cost him.

Lara glanced at Jess and tried to remember the last time he'd slept. Just after the escape, she thought. The loss of Teape and Candyman had been bad for him, worse than for her or Ellis; both men had died badly, and under his command. She'd tried telling him that it was Pop's fault, Pop and the Company's greedy indif-ference to the Max teams, but Jess seemed determined to take it on himself.

Sixty hours? More?

"Jess, you wanna catch a few zees? I'll stay up, make sure the beacon doesn't conk out . . ."

Jess started as if from a trance. He looked over at

her, his face expressionless. "No, that's okay. I'm good."

Lara studied him, his deep brown features set into grim lines, the exhaustion and hurt and shame in his gaze. Tired and sad she could live with, but she'd left him alone about what had happened for long enough; too long, maybe.

"Martin, it wasn't you," she said softly, and saw him wince ever so slightly, a tightening around his mouth and eyes. "And you know it. Why are you do-ing this?"

Jess looked away, staring down at the backs of his hands. "I don't want to talk about this—"

Lara shook her head, feeling a sudden rush of an-ger at him, at his stupid male need to keep it all for himself. "Well, that's too bad, Jess. What if it was all my fault? If I'd told you about how weird Pop was act-ing, maybe we could have stopped him. Or Ellis, why don't you put it on him? If he'd gotten into Max a few minutes earlier, they might still be alive. Why you, why do you want to take responsibility for this?"

For a moment he didn't answer, his jaw clenched, his mouth a thin line. The low hum of the 'cyclers was all there was to hear, pushing barely warmed air through the dying filters. Lara wondered if she'd gone too far; she'd been contracted, ex-Marine, while Jess and his two men had been righting XTs in lieu of prison time. There was always a distance between the "volun-teers" and the Company staff—

—and to hell with it. We 're going to die together, to hell with going too far. It doesn't matter anymore. If it ever did.

Jess finally looked up at her, and because she ex-pected him to be defensive and angry, she was a little surprised by the open sorrow she saw across his weary features.

"Because no one else will," he said, "Pop's dead, and Weyland/Yutani had us sacrificed before we even got the call. There's—there's no one else to feel shitty about what happened. To be responsible."

He sighed again, looking away. "They deserve that," he said, so quietly that she didn't think he'd meant it for her.

His reasoning was terrible, but she could see the rough logic in it; for a man who hadn't slept in three days it probably made perfect sense. Ellis wasn't the only one damaged by what had happened.

"Tell you what," she said gently. "You sleep, and I'll think about Teape and Pulaski for a while."

Jess blinked. "Don't patronize me, Lara—"

She shook her head. "No, really. You're right, ev-eryone thought they were expendable. The Company wanted us dead for rinding out that the infestation came in on one of their ships; no witnesses, Pop said. And whatever data they wanted off that log, it meant more to them than any of us. Teape and the Candyman were good guys, and they deserved better than what they got. It's still not your fault, but I understand what you're saying."

Lara took a deep breath and met his gaze evenly. "Go rest. I'll stay up and watch things . . . and I'll carry it for a while. Okay?"

It was Jess's turn to study her, and he must have seen that she meant it because after a moment he nod-ded slowly. "Okay," he said. "Just a few minutes."

He unstrapped himself and floated past her chair, headed to one of the wall slings at the rear, next to where Ellis slept and the Max sat, cold and empty and dead. Lara leaned back, closing her eyes, feeling use-less. Jess would get some sleep anyway, that was good.

Wouldn't want to meet oblivion with bags under your eyes. Lord knows you want to be well rested, sharp, and alert so that you can panic fully when you start to lose conscious-ness . . .

She told herself to shut up and thought about Teape and Candyman Pulaski, about how they'd died. It wasn't much of a favor to Jess; she'd thought of little else since they'd left the terminal. She'd thought of El-lis, climbing into the suit to save Jess in spite of the interface that had fucked him up so thoroughly. Of the poor bastard who'd been inside the Max first, who'd died alone and insane in the metal shell because the Company had put him there. Of Eric "Pop" Izzard, her lover who had made a deal and screwed all of them, and of the four hundred people of DS 949 who were no more because somebody had fucked up on quarantine.

All of that, and how they were going to die soon.

Lara opened her eyes and started looking through the scant computer files on quadrant layout for the hundredth time; she had nothing better to do.

Ellis woke up with the same headache he'd had for years, or what seemed like years. For just a moment, he didn't know where he was or why he was sur-rounded by clingy web, by lines of dusty thread that lay across his skin like a cold whisper—and then he saw the dented orange metal of Max's massive right arm some three meters away, the blackened metal of its flamethrower "hand" reflecting the bare light beneath the securing straps, and closed his eyes again.

Safe, I'm safe. My name is Brian Ellis. Brian Ellis, I'm twenty-four, A-level in synth repair and contracted to Wey-land/Yutani and I'm in the shuttle from, from—

For a second, he could only see images. A plain bunk. A cramped room with thick plexi windows and the giant steel table where Max slept. A stats/med con-sole, blue lines pulsing across. He saw Pop's angry face and then a dead and rotting body, its face grinning, a decaying, stinking man on the floor of 949, just after he'd brought Max over from—

"Nemesis,"he whispered, and felt a rush of relief. Compared to before, the name had come easily. As he'd done each time he'd awakened on the shuttle, he brought himself up-to-date, checking for lapses. The first time he'd opened his eyes after the station, all he'd known was Lara's name and his own age.

He, they, were on the shuttle from theNemesis. He'd been part of a Max team, assigned to monitor the

machine's human occupant and run its program in or-der to clear XT infestations—

—33first 011.2 away—

—and they'd gone to deep-space terminal 949, and he'd gone into Max himself when everything had gone wrong. When Pop had deserted the team and the man in Max had died, his wasted body pushed too far by the synth adrenaline. Max's interface had been designed to fit into a surgical implant, which Ellis didn't have; the prongs had pierced his skull, and he and Max had be-come one, one perfect machine that dealt death from both hands, wiping the bugs—

—space 17.25 object dot nine the animals cooking in their shells acid boiling my name is Brian—

Ellis blinked, forcing himself to think clearly. The station had been fail-safed and Lara had picked them up in the shuttle. Inthis shuttle, he and Jess, and the interface hadnot been perfect. It had done damage, possibly long-term—but then, he'd probably never know.

He heard a soft grunt from the mesh bunk below and looked down to see that Jess was asleep. Even in rest, his features were strained, his hands in fists; he was sad and angry, grieving over the Candyman and . . . and the man with the thin, twitchy face and haunted eyes. The bait. The volunteer who found the egg chamber by letting himself be caught . . .

Teape. Teape, the Candyman had called him "Tee-pee."

Getting better, and how much time? How long now?He knew the air filters were going, he'd at least gotten that much in one of his earlier bouts of consciousness. Once they wound down, the air would turn to poison in a few hours. Strangely, the thought wasn't as terrible as it should have been.

Ellis sat up slowly, pulling the tab on the bunk and letting himself roll out into the frigid air, careful not to bump into Jess. The scabbed wound on the back of his head itched beneath the Plastical patch, but it wasn't

throbbing anymore and he didn't feel like throwing up; a definite improvement. He pulled his glasses out of his front pocket and slipped them on, the tight interior of the shuttle instantly becoming sharper and

even smaller than when it was a blur.

Lara was at the ops console in the front, slouched in front of the nav screen. Ellis shifted himself to one side and pulled himself along using the handholds on the wall, waiting until he was well away from Jess be-fore speaking.

"Lara?"

She turned and he saw the exhausted worry in her eyes for just a second before she pasted on a shaky smile, a few tendrils of her long hair swirling around her face.

"Hey, Ellis. How are you feeling?" Her concern, at least, seemed genuine.

"A lot better. I'm—I can remember things pretty clearly now, I think. I've still got a headache, but not as

bad."

Lara nodded, her smile a little more real. "That's great, I'm really glad to hear it. Are you hungry? You haven't eaten since like 1400 yesterday. . . ."

Ellis pulled himself closer, grabbing the molded plastic arm of the other chair. "How long was I asleep?"

"Fourteen, fifteen hours. Don't worry, we still got almost a full day left and plenty of power on the signal. Someone could still hear us."

Katherine Lara had been a second lieutenant in the USCMC before having her contract bought up by the Company, and had proved herself to be fast and grace-ful under extreme pressure—but she couldn't lie for shit. As out of it as he'd been, Ellis had still been able to comprehend that their chances were one in a million.

Lara started digging through one of the packs hanging on the wall as Ellis moved to the chair and sat, loosely strapping himself in.

"Let's see, we got . . . soypro in sweet and sour,

grilled and with onion . . . fish and veggie . . . and there's one lemon chicken left." Ellis shrugged. "All kinda tastes the same anyway."

"No, the chicken's not so bad, the texture's really close." She handed him the thin pack and Ellis pulled the plastic spork off the side and unzipped the seal. In 9.61 seconds, scented steam rose from the pouch and he realized that he was ravenous; he burned his mouth on the first few bites, not caring at all.

"What'd I tell you," Lara said. "Way better than the beef."

Ellis nodded, swallowing, thinking of how much things had changed for him in only a few days. He'd been a novice tech before DS 949, signing up for the Max team to make up for a lifetime of feeling power-less, of being too skinny, too smart, too socially inept; his own father had ridiculed him for his weak-nesses . . .

. . .and now? I'm dazed and in pain, we're probably going to die, and I don't know that I've ever felt more at peace. I did something, I made the decision, and then we made it happen.

Being inside of Max had been . . . he, they, had beenimportant. Now that his mind was his own again, he would be able to live his final hours with some real dignity. With the awareness that when things had got-ten bad, he and Max had acted.

He finished the chicken and turned to see Lara doz-ing in her seat, her slender neck arching back, strands of reddish hair that had escaped her ponytail forming a gentle halo around her pale face. She was beautiful, he'd thought so since joining theNemesis team, but hadn't thought she could possibly be interested in him . . . still, he had clear memories of her sweet and frowning face in front of his, the sound of her kind, lilt-ing voice reaching into the haze of confusion that had taken up so much of the past—

—seventy-four hours estimate fourteen minutes vari-able—

—few days. Maybe it was only because he'd been sick, or wishful thinking on his part—

—or maybe she sees me differently now. Because I'm not the same dumb-ass kid I was.

Ellis leaned back in his chair, thinking that it didn't really matter if she liked him in that way. What mat-tered was that it was possible, that for the first time in his life he felt like someone, a pretty woman no less, might actually be impressed by him.

First, and maybe last. Ellis watched her sleep, feel-ing a deep sense of contentment. He'd been a hero, even if only for a little while, the mind inside of a Mo-bile Assault Exo-Warrior, a giant with hands of fire and death.

It was a dream he could live on, for as long as they had left. 3

The long corridor was tinted red and teeming with alien life, the giant bugs tearing toward them lightning fast—

—and Jess shouted to be heard, his heart in his throat, hearing nothing but alien screams. Something had gone wrong with their transmitters. "Lara, Pop, we're losing you!"

There were a dozen down now, torn to dusky pieces as the three men fired and kept firing. Shrieking drones leapt over their fallen siblings, a relentless charge into the team's curtain of explosive fire.

The Candyman yelled, the words rising dear and strong over the screeching attack. "Line's dead, can't hear you on the 'set!"

It was bad, a bad place to be, and it could only get worse. A bug scrabbled toward him, clawing through the growing pile of dead or dying drones, limbs and bodies melting through the deck in oozing acid-splash. Jess fired, the rifle pushed to full auto, hot and jumping, and the monster's head was suddenly gone.

Even as it collapsed, he could see others behind it, closing

the distance and oblivious to their own mortality. Jess shouted again into the static of his mike, hoping

against hope, and there was nothing. They were cut off.

Part of the deck had melted through and several of the maimed bodies dropped out of sight, disappearing through the growing, smoking hole, andstillthey advanced, barely slowed by the awesome hail of armor-piercing rounds. He made the only decision he could, praying that Teape and Pu-laski could hear him over the intensifying attack. "Fall back! Too many, fall back! Sound off!" Jess fired again, shuffling back a half step, risking a glance at the boys—

—and felt his gut plummet, felt his mind teeter on the brink of something vast and terrible. Both men were firing, holding the line—except Pulaski's abdomen was shredded, slippery coils of intestine hanging down to his knees in purple ropes. He was grinning the wide grin that spoke of his love for the fight, but his teeth were outlined in red, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth.

Past him was Teape, Jess knew it even though he couldn't see his face. Teape wore the flat crab body of a hatch-ling, its long tail wrapped tightly around his throat, its spi-dery, muscular legs curving around the back of his skull. Somehow Teape could still see his targets, picking them out from the seemingly endless river of teeth and claws—

—and Jess had stopped firing but the drones weren't reaching him, running and screaming but not getting close enough to take him down.

"Fuckin' hell of a ride, Jess!" Candyman screamed, bloody mist spraying from his red teeth, and Teape didn't, couldn't speak, only turned his head in Jess's direction, the noose of the face-hugger's smooth, scaled tail slipping tighter around his throat.

Pulaski looked at Jess, blasting the oncoming wave with-out targeting, his eyes filmed cataract-white.

"You better get outta here, Jessie," he said, his voice sud-denly a dull, dead monotone but louder than anything else. "We're dead already."

Jess opened his mouth to resist, to tell them that he would

stay, that he wouldn't leave them—and nothing at all came out, no matter how hard he struggled. He drew in lungfuls of air, determined to scream, to be heard over the dying howls of the drones and the rattle of pulse fire, above the stench of blood and burning—

—and woke up.

For a moment, Jess didn't move, staring at the empty net overhead, afraid to close his eyes again. Slowly, his heart stopped pounding and the light sheen of sweat that the nightmare had left on his brow turned cold. Still, he didn't move, not wanting to; there was nowhere to go, anyway.

The intense feelings of guilt and horror he'd felt in his dream faded, leaving him both wrung out and strangely thoughtful. He closed his eyes again, thinking about the dream, about the conflicted feelings he'd had since they'd escaped the station. Horror, sorrow, guilt—and some dark and heavy feeling that he hadn't examined too carefully. The horror and sadness were obvious; the rest of it, he thought it might be worth to try and work through. He wouldn't have much longer to make his peace.

Teape and Pulaski, dead. He wasn't suffering survi-vor's guilt, or at least he didn't think so; he'd made it because that was how things had worked out, right or wrong—and considering where he and Lara and the kid had ended up, "making it" and "survivor" didn't really seem to apply. He wasn't bothered

overmuch about checking out, although not because he felt he de-served it; the simple truth was, there was no point in being bothered by what he couldn't change.

Maybe it's just that I didn't see it coming. As fucked as the Company is, I still thought that they'd play us fair—and if I'd been paying attention, maybe I could have done some-thing.

Worthless thinking; it was already done. Jess sighed and glanced at his watch; he'd been out for five and a half hours, enough to be semisane for a while. He

felt tired and low, but better than when he'd sacked out. At least now, he'd be able to think straight.

And is that a good idea? Maybe you should just go back to sleep. Because if you think about what happened . . .

There it was, that deeply uncomfortable feeling that he'd avoided as long as he could. He knew what it was; anger, the kind that overwhelmed intelligence, that blocked out reason. Hatred with no outlet, no place to go but deeper inside. Those men had died be-cause some Company suit had wanted a download from one of the ships docked at 949, the ship that had brought the bugs inside, and the blind fury burning in-side of him would stay until he died—or until the Com-pany paid for what it had done. The former was a hell of a lot more likely, and that only fueled the red and melting heat of his frustrated rage.

And that scares the shit out of you, doesn't it?his mind whispered.Z)ying angry.

Yes. He'd grown up angry, and that undirected rage was what had made him a volunteer in the first place; it had led him to murder a couple of lowlifes in a fit of passionate rage, it had led him to prison. He'd never been one to wallow in his past, coming to uneasy terms with what he'd done after a lot of introspection and a shitload of psych vids . . . but the emotion that had put him there . . .

What was so troubling was that he felt that he'dconquered it, that he'd learned how to ease himself out of his violent emotions. He could be angry without let-ting it rule him.

Yeah, right. No problem.

Thinking about what had happened to his team, that serenity he'd worked so hard to attain access to was gone. It was a feeling both familiar and terrible, a feeling that he had no control over his emotions. He was afraid of dying without any sense of calm, that hopeless fury bright and seething in his heart.

The Company. The goddamn Company.

Jess heard Lara and Ellis in the front, talking softly,

and decided that he'd stay where he was, just a mo-ment or two longer. He might not be able to come to terms with the great injustice that had been done to them before their time ran out, but he needed to try. He needed to at least navigate a path through the twist-ing bonds of his fury, whether or not he could walk it.

It was funny; even a year ago, he would have laughed himself silly over the idea that he'd spend his last hours trying to better himself. He'd gone from being a gun-running banger with little or no self-awareness to a con to an H/K volunteer—and some-where along the way, he'd figured out what being a man, what being ahuman was really about . . .

Jess shook his head, wondering where his sense of humor had gone. Fuck it. He was going to die, and hat-ing the Company felt good because it deserved to be hated.

That brought a smile to his lips; sometimes, simple was best.

After a time, he drifted back into a light, dreamless doze, thoughts of revenge keeping him warm as the shuttle spun through the endless black.

As they got closer to the egg chamber, the stink of moldy flesh grew, a smell like sickness and rot and the desperation of a slaughterhouse. Noguchi heard the soft hissing of hidden drones, but the only movement in the shadowy, blighted structure was their own. At-tack inside of a nest was highly unlikely.

In spite of their size, the Hunters moved with hardly a sound, only a whisper of padded armor brush-ing against itself and the occasional soft splash of a clawed foot in pooled and fetid water, those noises from the unBlooded. Xenophobic and violent, maybe, but an experienced Hunter had no equal in grace or stealth when he put his mind to it. There were no fe-male yautja Hunters that she knew of, although the males did speak of their counterparts respectfully; in truth, she simply didn't know very much about the intricacies of their culture, even after a year. She'd grown tired of asking after being openly ignored for so

long . . .

Her mind was wandering. A defense against the smells and heat, against the memory of what had hap-pened on Ryushi. The alien queen accepted almost any large animal to act as incubator for her young; on Ryushi, it had been rhynth at first, the hatched face-huggers implanting the slow-moving, cattlelike ani-mals, the queen forming a makeshift nest on the transport shipZector. Of course, humans had been next, and she'd met the Leader Dachande in the subsequent nightmare; he'd brought his students to the seeded planet, unaware of the human colony, and the un-Blooded males had decided to Hunt "ooman" after Broken Tusk had been wounded.

There were strict rules against Hunting intelligent species, she knew, but she also knew that there were many yautja who wanted those "laws" repealed; Bro-ken Tusk's students had proved that clearly enough.

Together, she and the injured Leader had taken out the queen and saved most of the colonists, Broken Tusk slaying several of his students for what they had done. His dying act had been to engrave his jagged symbol between her eyes, the sign that she was worthy of Hunt . . .

. . .and you 're still trying to distract yourself, to keep your mind busy. Because you know what's coming.

Topknot had already led the majority of the Hunt-ers around a curve ahead, the dark matter secreted by the drones forming extremely hard and somehow light absorbent walls, all of the hive as sleek and organic in appearance as she imagined melted rock would be. From the now nearly overpowering reek, she knew that they had reached the egg chamber. And while No-guchi was impatient to meet the queen, she wasn't looking forward to—

—to this.

Holding her burner at the ready, Noguchi stepped

into the hot and shadowy, stinking lair, absorbing the environment as Topknot directed several of the stu-dents to unload their equipment. According to Hunter lore, the bugs had evolved on many worlds simultane-ously; it saved them from having to take responsibility for spreading the breed so that they might Hunt. And although she had worked not to concern herself with philosophies that she had no hope of changing, the re-sult of the yautja "seeding" was what was in front of them now. The incubators were different, but in almost every other respect, it was just like theLector.

The ruptured bodies strung to the walls of theZec-tor had primarily been those of rhynth; the creatures here were vaguely humanoid, four long, fleshy pink limbs, heads with two eyes, hands with digits. The slack, open mouths were filled with pointed teeth— open, perhaps, in expressions of pain and terror. The large empty shells in front of them, their fleshy petals peeled open, and the holes in their strange pink chests, burst out from inside, told the rest of the familiar story in simple strokes. Noguchi could see over a dozen of the life-forms from where she stood, hanging randomly from the walls like dead ornaments, and the chamber stretched off into shadows too deep for her to imagine how many more had been implanted. What little light there was came from small, uneven holes in the ceiling high above, filtering down in sickly streaks.

At least these are dead, they're not suffering any-more . . .

A useless rationalization. Wherever the bugs went, the habitat was destroyed, certainly wiping out entire species; all kinds of indigenous life would suffer for un-told generations. And on a more immediate level, No-guchi could hear rasping, mewling sounds coming from somewhere across the vast space, soft and droning. The noises were not bug; she could only hope that the liv-ing incubators were deeply asleep, perhaps dreaming of life, spared the horror of their fates until the very end.

Topknot signaled and spoke, telling the chosen

eight to ready themselves. They hefted their coils of rope, a heavy, braided leatherlike material that was stronger than anything humans had. Topknot's briefing aboard the ship had been fairly straightforward; the capture team would rope the queen and hold her down while the Leader cut her from her egg sac. The other four Hunters—herself included—would perform the basically unnecessary task of watching for drone attack. The Leader moved easily into the dark, veering left, the others falling into position behind him. Noguchi covered the right rear flank, her frustration eased only a little by the sight of Shorty covering right front. It was nice that the spotlight wasn't on her for a change. As senior Hunters on the ship, Topknot, Scar, and Three-Spot were used to her, as were the regular crew— mostly Blooded yautja too old to fight anymore. How-ever they felt about it, they didn't study her every move on Hunt. But with each new training group, No-guchi was made painfully aware of how unprecedented her presence was; they watched her as she might once have watched some animal performing tricks. By fuck-ing up. Shorty had taken some of the scrutiny off of her; his peers would be watching to see if he was com-petent, the unBlooded always eager to improve their caste—

—a low hiss. From the blackness in front of them.

Topknot stopped and raised his claw, the ropers spreading out. Noguchi's heart was hammering and she was barely aware of the sudden smile on her face as she sidled farther right—

—and with a thundering, piercing scream, the queen lunged forward from the dark, her multiple tal-ons reaching out to rip and tear, her grinning, wet jaws snapping for blood.

The yautja fell back, leaping quickly out of reach. As expected, the queen was unwilling to jeopardize her unborn children by abandoning her egg sac, a long di-aphanous tube filled with her developing brood.

She hissed and shrieked at the Hunters from atop her gelid

throne, slick drool sliding from her incisors, her inner jaws lowering into a strike position.

Noguchi gazed up at her in awe, struck by her in-credible design, by the mammoth shining comb that swept back from her eyeless, phallic skull. Her four arms snatched and clawed, her entire body trembling with rage. Twice as big as a drone, a thousand times as deadly because she couldthink.

"Dahdtoudi!" Scar growled, and Noguchi shook herself at the sound of her Hunter name, forcing her attention away from the feral queen. She stared off into the empty dark, holding her burner ready, reminding herself that there would be time later; now, she had to fulfill her assigned task. No matter how pointless.

The queen screamed as the Hunters went to work, her seething fury echoing through the stinking dark. And somehow, the sound made Noguchi feel much better about how her life was turning out.

4

Things were fine until Three-Spot lost his focus.

The queen was a force unto herself, a writhing tan-gle of arms and teeth and fury—but there were eight full-grown yautja holding her down, a Hunter for each limb and two holding her head back, their ropes hooked around the widest section of her dusky comb. Three-Spot, one of Topknot's Blooded, was braced in front of her, his rope wrapped several times around her upper left wrist.

Noguchi stood only a few meters from the strug-gling yautja, forcing herself to continue her watch and running through what would happen next. Once the queen was subdued—as close to it as they could hope to get—Topknot would pull hish'sai-de, a kind of scythe-sword, and slice the thick membrane between her and her egg sac. At once, the Hunters would start pulling her forward, moving to keep their captive off-balance. Those holding her arms would crisscross around her, tying both sets to her ribbed chest. With her head still held back, they'd lead her out of the hive,

the Hunters making certain that the queen was con-stantly aware of the burners aimed at her; the breed's reverence for the egg-layer and the queen's own sur-vival instincts would keep the drones at bay. As long as the Hunters holding the ropes were vigilant, the walk back to the ship should be uneventful—until it was time to get her aboard. Topknot had explained that then was often the most dangerous part. The queen would know it was her last chance and—

Three-Spot let out a grunting gasp and Noguchi spun in time to see the Hunter jerked off his feet. The queen screeched, raising her arm high, swinging the yautja around easily before slamming him to the floor of the nest.

In the split second it took for her to assess the situa-tion, Noguchi saw that Topknot had already cut her loose—and in that same instant, the queen took one thundering step forward—

—and brought her giant, taloned foot down on Three-Spot's chest. The splinteringcrunch was audible even over the mother bug's screams and Topknot's hissing commands, the heavy bone of the Hunter's breastplate giving like dry wood.

The capture team was in trouble. Free from her ovipositor sac and with one arm loose, the queen sidled to the right, the movement swift and graceful. Four of the Hunters were knocked to the ground, and although they still held on to the restraints, the queen's freedom was imminent. She shook her head from side to side, screaming, leaning back in order to lunge—

—and Noguchi was moving before she could think about it, dropping her burner and taking two running, leaping steps to snatch at Three-Spot's rope.

The queen saw her coming just before Noguchi grabbed the restraint. The black-clawed foot came up, dripping with yautja blood—but she was too late. No-guchi's gloved grip was solid and she fell backwards, becoming deadweight as she pushed her heels into the ground.

A year with the Clan and Noguchi's strength as-tounded even her, but her weight was less than half of a grown yautja's. She only had to manage for the few critical seconds that Topknot would need—

—and they had it. The cries of the Hunters told her that they were in control again, as they sounded off their positions to the Leader. Noguchi held on to the rope but didn't look to Topknot, transfixed by the snarling queen. Four meters tall in a crouch. As close as she was, the strangely polished look of her, the incredi-ble mass and raw power, the absence of heat radiating from her like she was drawing life into herself was—

Whack!

The back of Topknot's hand against her shoulder was enough to knock her over and roll her across the dark, stinking floor, another Hunter already at her po-sition.

Noguchi could have turned the fall into a shoulder roll and come up, but she knew from painful experi-ence that she'd be sorry for it. Landing on her back, she immediately moved into a crouch and brought her hands up, palms out as if to ward off a blow, tipping her face down and looking up at Topknot from under her lashes, the mask's shaded eye slits tinting him red. Between hisses, clicks and movement, yautja language was often complicated; this one was easy.

/submit. You are stronger.

Topknot raised his claw as if to hit her again, then pointed at the queen, restrained again by the capture team. He growled out the sound of Three-Spot's name and tilted his head forward.You were wrong to take Three-Spot's place.

Noguchi didn't, couldn't respond until he signaled that he was done. Her cheeks burning, she held her submissive pose and waited for him to finish.

Topknot made a fist and tapped his chest, then pointed at her, clattering an angry phrase punctuated by hissing, one of the many sayings that Hunters used to communicate. /am Leader and your position was as-

signed,the movements told her. She didn't know the direct translation for the proverb, but the gist of his words was that the failure of one was the failure of all. She'd heard it more than once in the past months; it was one of the Leader's favorite reprimands.

Without another word or sign, Topknot turned away and moved back to command the capture team.

Noguchi slowly got to her feet and went to retrieve her burner, not looking at anyone, knowing that those not busy with the queen were watching. Watching and judging, and she didn't need to see the gleeful, derisive stares or the raised mandibles; she already knew what that looked like.

They would have lost her. If I hadn't acted, they would have lost her and more would have died.

It didn't matter. She'd branded herself an outsider yet again, shown herself to be unreliable by deserting her guard. It was ridiculous, it was a way of thinking that made no sense—

—and it is the Hunter's way.

Noguchi picked up her burner and waited for in-struction, humiliated and furious, reminded yet again how very different she was from them—and that no matter how hard she tried, the Hunter's way seemed always beyond her reach.

They didn't like her—and she found out just how very much they wanted her gone when they got the queen back to the ship.

5

The call came just after Selee' had serviced him, a full rubdown front and back with a delicious finale; the girl's fine mouth and fingers drained the last of his travel tensions away better than a hot shower and a stim shot ever could, the suite's muted lighting and softly scented air giving the experi-ence an air of privilege. Selee' had offered to bathe him afterward but Lucas Briggs knew better than to overin-dulge himself; he'd come to Zen's Respite for business rather than pleasure, and he'd do well not to let the two entwine—or not much, at least. He tipped her handsomely and had just seen her to the door when the vidscreen started to chime.

The coolly composed face on the screen belonged to Julia Russ, officially the Tri-Sec Communications Co-ordinator for Weyland/Yutani's DS900s. Unofficially, she was as ambitiously ruthless as she was brilliant, a renowned Company cannibal—and in direct competi-tion with him for the next spot on the Applications Board. Not only was she a tremendous bitch, each meeting with her led him to believe that some women douched with liquid nitrogen. And found it too warm.

He smiled pleasantly, perfectly aware that having to report to him was torture for her; the loathing was entirely mutual, and Russ hadn't been informed about the 949 situation until late in the game.

Whereas I was there at the beginning, dear heart. Choke on it.

"Lucas. I see you're getting settled in," she said blandly, her pale blue gaze taking in the silken robe and mussed hair. "If this is an inconvenient time . . ."

"How nice of you to ask," he said, deliberately keeping his tone casual. If there was anything she hated, it was being taken lightly. "No, not at all. How are you, I haven't seen you since the last Earthside con. Keeping busy?"

Julia matched his smile, her eyes like chips of ice. "I'm well, thank you. I just received the numbers on our scan—"

"Don't tell me you've finishedalready,'' he inter-rupted.My isn't that adorable, you did your whole job just as quick as a tick!

She gritted her teeth at him and continued. "—and the ST signal wasn't picked up, which suggests that the exo suit was taken from the site prior to the explosion. The spread pattern is such that my people aren't able to trace passage, but we should now assume that at least one member of the team managed to escape, taking the MAX with them."

The short range ST beacon couldn't be disabled, which meant that the MAX had been taken; someone had survived. It was what he'd hoped to hear, but he wasn't going to let her see it. "Yes, we expected as much," he said, stifling a deliberate yawn. "Any pick-ups on theNemesis?"

"No. My field man believes it was destroyed; it's al-ways possible that they disabled the tracking boards, but it's unlikely. We'll keep looking, of course, but I think all we can do now is wait to see where they set down. If they set down."

Briggs nodded. The joy of goading her was fizzling.

his thoughts already turning to where their runner might be headed. If theNemesis had been lost, the suit must have been taken out on a shuttle or hopper— something small, or Julia's team would have spotted the trail. Disheartening news, considering how easy it was to disappear out in the DS sectors.

But an emergency craft isn't likely to get very far, ei-ther . . .

Zen's Respite was close to where 949 had been, less than three days on his Sun Jumper, and he'd come on the very slight possibility that someone on theNemesis team might have made it out. Someone who'd had ac-cess to theTrader's log.

Someone who,if /can find them, ifthey have the infor-mation, and if 7can make the deal, would absolutely assure my position with the Board.

"Worried about something, Lucas?" Julia asked sweetly.

Briggs frowned, tilting his head to one side. "Actu-ally, yes. You've been to Zen's Respite recently ... is Chin still cooking in the restaurant here? I heard rumor that he moved when the Company remodeled his kitchen."

If looks could maim. Julia's composure slipped for only a second, but the pure hatred that flickered across her features was truly a sight to behold. She reached forward and the screen went blank. Briggs grinned; not even a good-bye.

The pleasure was short-lived, quickly giving way to frustration. For a moment he sat and stared at the dead screen, searching for a way to hurry things along. He'd put Irwin and the guards on standby and double-check that the channels were all straight-lined to him . . .

. . .and wait. I can wait, and hope that they turn up somewhere Company or Company friendly, that the manager bothered to read the alert, and that whatever C4 channel jockey picks them up has the sense to report it.

A lot of ifs, a lot of hoping. Briggs sighed and stood up, already feeling like he needed another massage.

He

knew there was no point in worrying about it; they'd either turn up or they wouldn't, and he hadn't made

it into the upper brackets of Weyland/Yutani by agoniz-ing over things he couldn't control. And it wasn't as though Zen's Respite was such a bad place to wait. The Company's complex had four excellent restaurants, a full holovid rec room, and was within easy distance of a half dozen highly ranked organic gardens.

And there's the suite-level staff, of course.Selee' was able enough, but the brochure also listed several em-ployees with skills and attributes that he wouldn't mind tasting. For 47 TS, he was in excellent shape, still perfectly capable of enjoying the satiation of his appe-tites. In fact, there was a particularly flexible young woman he'd heard about who could supposedly do things he'd only read about . . .

Briggs stretched his arms over his head and headed for the bathroom, deciding that hewould relax; he al-ways negotiated best when he was rested, and if—whenthe 949 fugitive turned up, he'd want to be fully pre-pared. Grigson had fumbled the ball and he'd been given the opportunity of a lifetime. If he pulled it off, he could write his own ticket. And if he fucked it up ...

"Lucas Briggs does not fuck up," he said, his voice strong and even as he stepped into the elegant bath-room and tapped the shower to life. He didn't and wouldn't. Positive thinking, that was the key. And if his negotiation skills weren't enough to convince their wayward traveler, he'd resort to whatever method seemed appropriate.

Humming to himself, Briggs stripped and stepped into the steaming shower. And after a moment, he put a call in to the service staff and asked for that flexible young woman to join him.

As it turned out, she was able to make him forget all about DS 949, at least for a little while.

6

Noguchi led the Hunters "back to the ship, assigned to the advance guard position; it was another slap, although not as bad as it could have been. Considering how angry Topknot had been, she supposed she should be grateful that he hadn't sent her ahead to open the dock; Shorty suffered that particular dishonor, and the look he gave her as he shoved past reminded Noguchi that she'd need to watch her back for a while.

The swarm of bugs moved out of the queen's path, falling back in ripples of hissing black. Noguchi walked slowly forward, determined to stay in position no mat-ter what happened behind her—which, from the screams of the bound queen and the grunts of yautja exertion, was a heated struggle. It wasn't all that hard to ignore; the sight of hundreds,thousands of the chit-tering, trumpeting animals stepping aside to let them pass was an experience unlike any other. They parted like a living sea, smoothly sidling back, their heavy clawed feet tearing tracks in the muddy ground, the tracks filling with water and reflecting deadly darkness.

As they got closer to the ship, Noguchi started to breathe deeper, preparing herself for the probable con-flict. The queen was smart enough to understand that boarding the ship wasn't what she wanted to be doing; Topknot had informed them that eight of ten queens taken as Hunt seeders tried to break away at the ramp, as soon as they realized that there wouldn't be another chance. Once the door was shut behind them, the dan-ger was just as great; the queen might try to tear loose in a suicide run through the ship, forcing the yautja to take her out if she didn't fall for the "open" nest. The Hunters believed that, like themselves, a bug queen preferred death to captivity; having had her own expe-rience with a rampaging queen, Noguchi agreed—al-though she also thought that the creature simply wanted to slaughter as many

of her enemies as possi-ble, whatever the consequences.

Which all means that we're not in the clear until she's nested and tied.The thought made her feel a little better about having been assigned to safer, less honorable po-sitions for this Hunt. If the queen went into a frenzy once aboard, every Hunter shared responsibility for getting her back under control. Clan rules for Hunting were sacred, but they didn't apply to the ship—and that meant she had as much right as anyone to exhibit her skills.

Shorty had lowered the dock, the wide ramp set-tled in the marshy ground, a jutting mouth in the ship's swollen belly. Noguchi couldn't make the sounds that were the ship's name, and its twisting, bulbous shape defied simple description, but she thought it looked something like a Seashell, sometimes thinking of it asShell.

They were less than a dozen meters from the ramp, the ocean of sibilant drones hunched and watching blindly, their grins dripping strings of drool to the swampy ground. Noguchi was tensed, ready to spin around the instant she set foot on the ramp and there was no longer need for her position. When the queen

made her move, she wasn't going to be caught off guard—

—and all at once the sea erupted, a thousand bugs throwing their heads back and screaming, the piercing cacophony shockingly painful—and as one, they leapt toward the band of Hunters, called to fight by some un-seen signal from their dark mother.

Shit!The queen had chosen to risk the lives of her unborn against the lives of her own children—and had put the Hunters in a world of hurt.

She couldn't hear Topknot but was close enough to the ramp; one leap forward and her boot touched the ridged metal. She whipped around, firing into the on-coming horde, multiple blasts from the burner taking out three lunging drones in a single sweep.

From the edge of her vision, she saw only black darting bodies where the capture team had been—but the queen's comb was visible, tossing back and forth above the screaming onslaught. They still had her.

Everything happened too fast and too slow, frag-ments of action and the pulse of her heart twisting ev-erything into flashes,didn't expect this—

Noguchi saw one, two of the young Hunters reach the platform, turning to fire, felt and saw the ship's covering blast, a lightning streak from above slamming a smoking hole through the brutal charge. The bass rumble was swallowed up by the shrill screams of the bugs, by the pounding of their running limbs against the wet ground.

She fired again and again as the battle raged, as the drones sacrificed themselves against the ragged wall of melting burner heat. Acid-splash hit the ramp and bub-bled uselessly against the treated material—but not so ineffective against one of the young Hunters when his mask slipped or was torn away. Noguchi only saw the flailing arms and the blinded face, oozing green as the novice collapsed near her feet.

For some indeterminate time there was only the fight, the stink of burning muck and the strobe of the

ship's weapons. Noguchi fired and backed up the ramp, fired, a step at a time, knowing that the mission objec-tive still stood above all else. If the capture team could get the queen into the ship, Topknot would bring the ramp up. Anyone not aboard would be fucked, and honor or no, Noguchi didn't mean to die such a point-less death.

She was almost at the ship's wide-open dock, the heat and the strobe of the burner blasts from inside washing across the ramp, when she heard Topknot, his shrill, mechanically amplified whistle commanding the Hunters to look for him. The capture team had man-aged to get the bug queen to the bottom of the ramp and the Leader's raised, jerking fist meant it was time to board.

Still firing, Noguchi hustled backwards, saw the struggling team hauling their prize up to the ship—and saw that at least three of the novice Hunters weren't going to make it. They were too far away; unless they turned tail and sprinted for the ship, they were bug food. Even if the yautja culture allowed such coward-ice, the young Hunters would be torn apart the second they stopped firing.

Honorable, they die with honor at least . . .The only consolation there was, that they would be remem-bered.

Halfway up the ramp, Topknot gave the command to close the dock. WithShell still firing into the horde, the wide slab of light metal pulled smoothly up into the ship, lifting the queen and her captors, Noguchi watch-ing as the obedient drones continued to throw them-selves into certain death. As the ramp closed, she caught a last glimpse of the doomed trio, still blasting away at the trumpeting assault.

The queen's furious cry seemed like a whisper after the screams of so many, but the desperate rage car-ried—

—and Noguchi saw that what was left of the team wouldn't be able to hold her. Two of the rope holders

were gone, a third badly wounded, barely able to stand. The attack was a surprise, the queen's decision to use her children to save herself unprecedented, at least as far as Noguchi knew—and the Hunters hadn't been prepared. In all, six of the thirteen queen Hunters had been lost.

Topknot was clattering at the remnants of his group, calling for the nest hatch to be opened, calling for the untrained yautja to get out of the way as he snatched at one of the loose ropes, dropping his burner.

Noguchi sidled backwards toward the nesting room, watching the queen pull and strain at her bonds as the Hunters brought her under control. The "nest," a massive, heavily reinforced chamber designed to hold the bug mother, wasn't far from the dock opening, thirty meters of bare floor between the two doors. The Hunters had designed the lowest levels of their seeding ships with bug behavior in mind; with her exit back to the planet's surface blocked, she should willingly go into the nest, the only direction left for her. Once trapped inside, she would be lured to the back of the chamber and temporarily restrained by hanging ropes, until the yautja could bind her more permanently— she'd be strapped to a wall, gagged and shackled, as helpless to the Hunters as she was to her own biological drives. An egg-layer, bearing seeds for the Hunt for as long as the yautja wanted her.

Most of the observation windows were small and filtered, the queen seeming to prefer darkness for nest-ing, but the main hatch had a wide oblong, clear as glass. A spot next to the door would also mean that the captured queen would be passing close enough for No-guchi to touch—

—except they couldn't keep her. Noguchi was only a few meters from the open hatch when she glanced back and saw that Scar had lost his grip. She saw it and then saw the wounded Hunter, a novice she called Slats, drop his own rope and crumple to the deck.

Next to her, a surprised hiss, an untrained yautja diving away from the hatch controls—

—and the freed queen screamed, ripping the last ropes away from the team, fixing her sightless, slaver-ing face toward the opening not ten meters in front of her. The nest, where they wanted her to go.

Where Noguchi stood, blocking her path.

She automatically raised the burner as the queen lunged forward. A few well-placed bursts and— —can't—

Noguchi threw the burner, the queen close enough for her to see the bubbles in her dripping string of sa-liva, see the stainless teeth of her inner jaws snap—

—andcrunch on the weapon's thickness. Noguchi spun and ran into the chamber, the close sounds of rending metal lending her speed. Her racing thoughts, her plans, were shadowed by a burst of self-disgust as she tore through the humid, echoing dark of the nest.

Run run circle left goddamn honor—

Killing the queen would have been easy—and it would have made the deaths of the other Hunters a waste, and she couldn't even blame their strange cul-ture for her decision. This was her own honor at stake.

Noguchi sprinted, arms pumping, fully aware that the queen was faster. All she heard was the thunder of the animal's pursuit, all she felt was the knot of ice in her belly, the inner flinch of each heartbeat that told her she would be jerked into the air and hurled into blackness before she even felt the pain—

—now now NOW!

She couldfeel the air sliced behind and above and she threw herself left, tucking smoothly into a shoulder roll and coming up running, not looking back.

The queen shrieked, a terrible sound but one that filled Noguchi's every fiber with a kind of restrained re-lief. The enormous bug mother was fast but heavy, un-able to change direction easily; the frustrated cry came from near the back of the giant chamber and Noguchi

was already halfway back to the door, only twenty me-ters—

—almost, almost there and she's trapped—

—and when she saw Topknot step into the open-ing, a flush of pride added length to her strides, her heart pounding with more than just adrenaline. She'd done the right thing, acted as bravely as any Blooded Hunter—

—and so sure was she that her prowess would fi-nally be acknowledged by the Leader, she mistook his signal for one of celebration, a twist of talon that meant "victory." It wasn't until she actually saw the silhou-ette of the Leader disappearing, saw the ring of faces appear at the window and heard the massive, resound-ingwhoom of the hatch slamming down that she real-ized what had happened.

Topknothad signaled victory, but not to Noguchi. And behind her, the queen signaled her own triumph,

a scream of bloodlust that pounded at Noguchi even as her ringing, shuddering footfalls pounded at the floor.

7

This message. Repeat: this is the shuttle from the Weyland/Yutani shipiVemesis, re-questing emergency assistance from any ship or out-post receiving this message ... "

Ellis's soft voice droned on, carrying back to where the Max rested, to where Lara and Jess drifted silently. The young tech had been at it for almost three hours and still managed to sound hopeful, as if he believed his voice might actually reach farther than the distress beacon. As if with each pause, he expected to hear a re-ply.

"Anyone listening would've picked up our code hours ago," Jess said quietly, a touch of concern in his deep voice. Lara was glad to hear it; maybe it was self-ish on her part, but Jess had tuned in again and it was a relief to have him back.

She shrugged. "Let him talk, if it makes him feel better."

Jess sighed. "Yeah. What the hell, right?"

Rhetorical. Lara nodded anyway, wondering if the time was right to bring up what she'd been thinking

about. With both men so fragile, she'd been hesitant to talk about the specifics of what needed to be done—but she knew that she didn't want to spend her last min-utes of consciousness trying to breathe, and she needed to know what position they would take.

7can do myself, but they might need help, Ellis, anyway. And is either of them strong enough to watch if I'm the only one wanting to sign out early?

"Still got Pop's standard issue?"

Lara blinked, then nodded again. It seemed that she wasn't the only one considering their options. "Twelve rounds," she said, before he could ask.

Jess looked at her, and she was grateful to see how composed he was. "Talked to Ellis yet?"

"Not yet." Lara smiled a little. "There's not really any casual way to slip it into a conversation."

Jess grinned suddenly, his gaze glittering with hu-mor that she'd thought he'd lost. "Oh, I don't know. How 'bout, 'So, got any plans for how you wanna buy it? I hear getting shot's not so bad; pass the coffee, wouldya?' "

Lara was surprised into an actual giggle. It was a small sound, but it made her feel a hell of a lot better— and she thought that if she had to go anyway, at least her final hours would be with someone like Martin Jess. Whatever he'd done in the past, he was a good man.

"Want me to talk to him?" Jess asked, his smile fading.

Lara shook her head. "I can do it. Might as well wait a little longer, though. He's . . . he's still gothope, you know?"

He knew. She could see it in the dark depths of his eyes. Hope was a fleeting thing, something that shouldn't be ripped away before it had a chance to dwindle on its own. She was only a few years older than Ellis, but like Jess, she had no illusions about their situation; if Ellis was still able to find comfort in his, she didn't want to deny him that.

"Do you think they're looking for us?" Jess asked. "For that download?"

There was a thread of anger in his voice that she hadn't heard before. "I don't know. Doesn't matter,

does it?"

Jess shrugged. "I guess not. I'm—I gotta admit, I wouldn't mind running into a Company crew right about now, and not just to save our butts."

His tone was mild but his eyes narrowed, the set of his jaw and the tic high on his cheek telling her more perhaps than he wanted to reveal. "Fuck 'em, right?"

Definitely anger, and he meant it. Lara nodded slowly, thinking that misplaced hope wasn't the only thing that could keep someone going.

Ellis has his rescue dreams, and it seems that Jess has re-venge . . .

"I'm gonna go see how he's holding up," Jess said, and moved away, leaving Lara alone. Leaving her won-dering whatshe had, what was keeping her from col-lapse.

"I'm a goddamnMarine," she mumbled, the soft words filling her with an odd mix of amusement, em-barrassment and pride. Out of practice maybe, running transmission lines on a corporate payroll, but the Corps was the Corps; as the saying went, she didn't get to die without permission.

Semper ft, sir, yes sir. Not much, maybe, but it beats the hell out of feeling sorry for myself.

It'd do. Lara mentally squared her shoulders and headed up to the front, Ellis's soft voice still droning on, his words surely disappearing, unheard, into the blank waves of emptiness that would be their tomb.

Briggs liked to think of himself as a thoughtful man, but the garden so originally titled "Sand" was peaceful to the point of coma-inducing. He sat on a small stone bench at the edge of a vast, carefully raked field of white grit, wondering what genius had marketed a gi-ant sandbox as art. He could understand the appeal, he

supposed, if one liked staring at waves of lines and con-templating "beingness," but he wasn't that one.

Briggs glanced at his watch and then sighed, gazing back out at the flat, featureless sea. He'd have to give it another ten or fifteen minutes. Heiro Fujiyami proba-bly wouldn't bother looking at Briggs's Respite itiner-ary, but it would be well worth an hour of boredom if he did; Sand was Fujiyami's favorite, and his vote would carry at least two of the others along when it came time for the Board to elect their new member.

Still . . .

Another sigh. It wassand, nice patterns but not even a rock or tree to break the monotony. Twilight was settling, a cool purple light bathing the bland gar-den, at least giving it acolor. He'd have to treat himself afterward, perhaps a nice dinner at the seafood place near the suites. They grew catfish there, killed to order and fried with cornmeal; heavy, but he deserved some reward—

The bleat of his 'com was a welcome distraction. Briggs slipped the handset from his breast pocket and hit the receive.

"Mr. Briggs, this is Nirasawa," the bodyguard's smooth voice rumbled. "You have a call from Mr. Ter-rence Roth, on behalf of Ms. Julia Russ, Tri-Sec Com-munications Coordinator for—"

"Yes, put him through," Briggs snapped. Nirasawa was more efficient than Keene, but only physically. He seemed determined to fit as much formality as possible into each and every sentence.

There was a short pause, enough time for Briggs to remember that Roth was the name of Julia's field scout, before a low, tentative voice sounded in his ear.

"Mr. Briggs? Ah, Ms. Russ asked me to call you if I, if we picked up anything on that possible fugitive situa-tion. She said you could contact her if you wanted any more help. Information," he amended hastily. "Any-thing besides what I picked up. Whatwe picked up."

He was rattled. Some low level, undoubtedly aware

of the animosity between Julia and himself. Briggs smoothed his tone; if she wasn't actually listening in, she'd certainly be recording the conversation. "I appre-ciate your call, Mr. Roth. And excellent work . . . you say you've found something?"

"Yeah," Roth said, obviously relieved that he wasn't going to be skewered by his boss's nemesis. "Sir. We caught the distress signal for, uh, ETTC-CVVemesis, shuttle six-oh-nine-one-oh, far edge of Sector 955."

Got you!

Briggs forced a calm he didn't feel, grinning out at the field of sand. "Really? That's wonderful. Do you know their status?"

"They're out of fuel . . . and unless someone onVVemesis stocked the shuttle up with extra oxy filters, they've gotta be low on air. I'd say they were out, but Ms. Russ told me that there might be a couple of techs on board, they could've stacked the screens . . ."

Briggs gritted his teeth, reminding himself that Ir-win could have the ship ready to go in five minutes as Roth droned on for another few seconds about the me-chanics of air filtration. They could be on their way in ten.

Far edge of955,there's that survey outpost on—Bud-dha? Bandy? Thirty, thirty-five hours, tops. Have Keene look up the head there, probably some bio geek, make sure they read the goddamn memo—

". . .and then the cross weave'd give 'em another ten, maybe twelve hours. Anyway. Ms. Russ said that you'd want to be informed before any decisions were made—"

"—and I thank you for your promptness, Mr. Roth," Briggs said. "Please tell Julia that I'll handle things from here. And that I'll contact her just as soon as I need her input." He accentedneed, grinning again.

Perhaps I can call to get her opinion on what to wear, my first week on the Board . . . Roth quickly signed off and Briggs stood as he punched Nirasawa's number, turning away from the ridiculously dull garden and talking as he walked. He was in his element, now that there was something solid to work with; over the koi pond and past the authenti-cally shabby tearoom, motioning to Keene who stood stiffly by the front entrance and giving instruction to Nirasawa, Briggs felt full of anticipation, of excitement for things to come. No more waiting, hoping, if-ing . . .

Someone from the MAX team had survived. And if they knew anything about the download from the Trader, he was going to get it.

8

She was trapped in the dark with an alien queen.

The panic lasted less than a second and then Nogu-chi's skills took over, natural and learned, honed from her year with the predatory race. Without a misstep, Noguchi veered away from the closed hatch, as sharply as she could without losing speed, ignoring the circle of watching masks outside. Some part of her saw that Shorty was at the center of the window, a part that ap-parently assumed she'd survive and might at some point care, but that awareness was gone a split second later; her animal brain was more concerned with sav-ing her skin than with her need to save face.

The echo of the queen's closing scream blasted through the heated dark, stealing the usual calm cer-tainty Noguchi had so often achieved in battle—that she would survive and her enemy would not. She was scared, but a veteran of many scary places; her mind fed her what she needed to know as she sprinted, arms pumping, her face flushed with her own terrified breath reflected as heat by her mask. The suit's shoulder burner was too small to do more than scratch the queen, there were no weapons to run for, hand-to-hand was less than possible. She had to get out, fast, and there was only the hatch—

—hatch and nothing hatch and where she's supposed to be tied up—

The restraints. Near the back of the nest, the lowest dangling two meters off the floor—two chains and a rope, hanging just beneath the air shaft that blew hu-mid heat across the nesting wall. They'd be looped around the queen's comb and throat once the queen got hungry enough to investigate the carrion pile un-derneath, maneuvered by controls from outside.

It had taken her less than a half dozen running steps away from the front hatch to consider all of her options and decide. Only five or six meters to climb and a metal grate to burn through at the shaft's opening, only seconds to do it—but with nearly a thousand kilos of screaming alien death bearing down on her from be-hind, even a stupid plan was better than no plan at all.

Noguchi didn't look but could hear her over her own hot, sharp gasps and the rapid fire of her heart.

The queen had turned to give chase, the floor trem-bling in time to the demonic echoes of pursuit that sur-rounded them.

Sweating but somehow cold, Noguchi struck out for the northeast corner of the chamber; she'd have to outmaneuver the queen again, feint right and go left before the mammoth creature could stop herself from slamming into the wall.

Her feelings of fear, of pain and of death, had no hold. Noguchi saw the heavy shadows of the corner, pounding closer, felt her muscles flex and pump, calcu-lated distances and times. Behind her, the thunder of steps grew louder.

Another leap, another, the sharp lines of darkness a meter away, Noguchi shifted her weight and pivoted at once. For one sideways, running step, her left foot

was on the ground, her right angled against the back wall—

—and she'd sprinted only two steps when the crash came. The queen hit the wall close enough for a spatter of her flinging drool to hit the back of Noguchi's neck. She found her second wind as the sliver of hot, viscous foam crawled down her spine, as close to panic as she could allow.

Fasterfaster!

To her right now, the seamless stretch of dark metal wall, ahead and to her right a shade of empty blackness, broken by slashes of filtered light from ob-servation slits. Hunter masks had infrared capability al-though they rarely used it, the bugs didn't radiate heat—but she'd long ago disabled hers, confused by the yautja symbols that flashed across the field of view; now, she wished she hadn't, running blind. No more than twenty meters, surely, she had to be getting close—

—there! The dull glint of metal, motionless and slender, two meters up. Noguchi stretched her arms up and out, tensed as she took her final leaping step—

—andfuck that hurts, pulled, swinging herself around the thick and leaden chain by one aching arm, the other hand already reaching for the next hold. The heavy links barely swayed, Noguchi's feet in the air, and thebam, bam of the queen's pursuit too close.

Hand over hand, Noguchi flew up the chain, climb-ing so fast that she barely felt the rough metal brushing against her legs or the sheath of sweat that dripped be-neath her armor. She could already feel the blast of moist air coming from the rounded tunnel to her left and above, running parallel to the ceiling. Two meters, one, and Noguchi was facing the mesh grate that blocked her escape.

Gripping the chain with her right hand, she leaned back and hooked her left arm, aiming for the center of the screen. The stream of brilliant blue light from the small shoulder weapon smashed through the holed

metal, twigs of the heated mesh hissing to the wet floor of the shaft. She was so close, both hands on the tun-nel—

—and when the queen's skeletal fingers slid into her hair, she didn't hesitate, didn't think about ex-tending her right hand's blades and reaching over her own shoulder to cut. The thin, impossibly hard knives that shot out from the forearm mechanism worked as claws, slicing as easily through braided, beaded hair as through the bony dusk of the queen's talons—

—and even as the enraged, agonized shriek as-saulted Noguchi's ears, she had boosted herself into the tunnel before she realized that she was free. As quickly as it had begun, it was over. Below, the queen screamed on as Noguchi scrambled forward, elbowing through the warm, humid dark back toward the land-ing dock, the awareness of what had happened seeping in.

She had me. Shetouchedme.

And yet Noguchi was alive, unharmed, while the alien breeder bled acid, at least three of her long digits slashed away. The rush of light and energy that swept through her as she crawled the last few meters of shaft was as exhilarating and beautiful as only victory could be.

Victory, narrow but true and well deserved. And with all of them watching...

With the alien's hollow howls fading behind, she could consider the others. With only a few exceptions, everyone onShell would have seen the incident, Blooded and novice alike, an infrared show of her prowess. They couldn't continue to ignore her, the training group would have to cease their blatantly deri-sive treatment of her—they'd probably never like her, but there would at last be some bare minimum of re-spect.

Noguchi saw the curve ahead in the close air shaft, muted light shining up in thin lines around a floor hatch. She grinned, high from being alive and capable,

hearing the Hunters shifting restlessly below as she popped the edge of the hatch.

She touched me, you impassive bastards, you can't pre-tend that there's no honor in walking away from that. Can't.

The drop was only four meters, the hatch directly over a high, sloping storage rack. Noguchi landed in a crouch, then hopped lightly to the floor, not ten meters from the front hatch of the nest chamber. Topknot and Minikui and Tress and Shorty, the wounded Scar, all of them stood and looked at her, silent, masks still in place. For a moment, there was no movement at all.

Noguchi grinned again, reaching up to pop the line that connected her mask to her armor. A tiny hiss of es-caping air and the normal heat of the ship seemed like a cool breeze across the sweat on her skin, the dull light too bright for a few blinks.

The line of masks watched her, not speaking, Topknot in front. The others would look to their Leader for an appropriate response, and he couldn't punish her after such a competent display . . .

Topknot didn't. Noguchi gritted her teeth as he turned away instead, reaching up to take off his own mask as he growled an order to one of the unBlooded, to see to Slats. Randomly, one by one, the Hunters all turned away. They removed masks, moved to store them, shelved burners, and clattered to one another about those lost and how many they'd killed, their crablike faces shiny with musk, their beaded tresses slick with it. No one spoke to her and there was noth-ing spoken about her.

Noguchi didn't, wouldn't care. The mission was complete, she was alive, and they had all seen what she'd done, whether or not it was acknowledged. It wasn't hard to feel nothing; she'd had so much prac-tice, for so long . . .

. . .but it was a queen, she thought, a small and pitiful thought that she immediately buried. Instead, she hung her mask and peeled her gloves, her head high and shoulders back, wondering how much longer she could stand to live this way.

He'd been talking for a long time, the repeated message forming a kind of circle in his mind; it had gone past hope, past despair, and now was a meditation, a sooth-ing message of possibility in a voice that he no longer recognized as his.

. . .this is the Weyland/Yutani ship Nemesisreguest emergency assistance from any ships or outposts receiving this message ...

Lara and Jess had both wandered up, sat for a while, wandered away. Ellis kept talking, pausing, talk-ing, and had become so lulled by his vocal loop that he was annoyed when a crackle of harsh static interrupted him. But only for the fraction of a second it took him to realize that someone was answering.

"Nemesisshuttle, this is Bunda survey, we read you four-by-four. Please state the nature of your emer-gency and adjust your BD signal to channel eleven-oh-one-dash-one, over."

A man's voice, mild but tight with a barely hidden excitement. Aperson, a young-sounding man with the clipped tones of a Company-trained channel checker. Ellis stared at the mike pad on the console in front of him, at the speaker filter next to it, astounded by how suddenly things had changed.

We 're not lost anymore.

"Repeat, this is Bunda survey,Nemesis shuttle, do you read?"

"Jesus, keep 'im talking, Ellis!" Jess said, suddenly floating next to him, looking as shocked as Ellis felt. Lara was right behind him, her eyes wide and fixed.

"Ah, we read you, Bunda," he stammered, "we're—we're going to be out of oxy in, less than ten hours. And we're out of fuel already—oh,shit—"

Ellis started to laugh, turning to see the same dawning expressions on both of their faces. They

weren't going to die, they had been lost and now some man from Bunda was asking them questions.

Lara pushed forward, grinning, taking over. "What was that channel again, Bunda?"

Leaning in front of Ellis she tapped keys and Jess gripped his shoulder firmly, laughing with him.

"You did it, Ellis, go fuckin' figure. First the Max, now this—they're gonna have to promote you, kid." Jess shook his shoulder gently, trying to keep his voice low as Lara called up Bunda's stats and info and spoke to their savior.

Savior—as Ellis had been when he and Max had joined at the station. As he was now, having found that voice from out of the dark.

Ellis laughed harder, warm and giddy, feeling the positive waves that radiated from Lara and Jess. From theirteam.

Twice. Twice, and it's not a fluke if it happens more than once.

Because of him, everything had changed. Again. It was a feeling he could get used to. Maybe he wasn't destined to be a tech geek, working his life away in some sterile hydraulics lab. And really, wasn't it a ca-reer he'd chosen out of fear? His scrawny build, his lack of self-confidence, and feelings of inadequacy had led him to choose a quiet, stable, boring line of work. Even signing up with a volunteer team had seemed wildly dangerous, and the job description was watching monitors and pushing buttons .

. . .and look where I've ended up. Everything has changed, is changing, will change and all because of me and Max, 72.43minutes eradicated 122 adult species dot 47 em-bryonic—

Ellis had a headache suddenly.

"Hey, kid, you okay?"

He looked up into Jess's smiling, slightly worried face and forced a grin. "Fine, yeah. We're outta here,

right?"

Jess clapped him on the shoulder again, turning his

attention back to Lara—and leaving Ellis to wonder why he hadn't told the truth. Being with Max had done something to him, clouded his thinking, Lara and Jess both knew it ...

. . .and maybe I'm ready for them to see me as a man, now, strong, not whining about my little aches and pains. . .

On some level, he knew better. The dual prongs of the Max's interface had gone into his brain, far from a little wound. If they were going to work together, shouldn't he tell them that he was still having flashes of, ofaltered thinking?

Ellis considered it for only 6.6 seconds, until Lara glanced back at him from the console. The warm look she gave him decided it; he wasn't going to be pitied, ever again. He could control himself, he could bear the pain—and whatever else there was to bear.

Besides, they were safe now. A survey station, sci-entists and biotechs probably; no aliens, no Company, nodeath.

For some unfathomable reason, that thought gave him no comfort at all.

9

One of the few advantages to being different was that she had been given private quarters, a luxury that was only afforded to the stron-gest and most aggressive of the older Hunters. The un-Blooded slept on mats in a giant chamber Noguchi thought of as "the pit," their every spare moment spent watching fights or participating in them. Most training ships only carried a dozen or so novices, butShell housed up to forty young males, making the pit an exercise in arrogant posturing.

Noguchi sat on the edge of her makeshift bed and took off her boots, feeling wrung out and depressed, not wanting to think about what had happened in the dock. The small, dark room that she called home was the only place she really felt at ease anymore, the few mementos from her past giving her some small mea-sure of peace. A medkit, a few toiletries, an aging wave scanner. There was a photo of Creep tacked to one wall, the dog that had stayed with her on Ryushi after the colonists had left. Before she'd

gone with the Hunt-ers, she'd sent a signal to the closest outpost, requesting

a pickup. She wondered where the friendly mutt was now, if he'd ever been reunited with his previous owner . . .

The thought made her feel like crying and she looked away from the hard-copy picture, looked up at the mammoth crowned skull that dominated the room from its place over her bed. The queen that she and Broken Tusk had killed, together. It was her first tro-phy, and she'd kept it with her on Ryushi, spent long, silent hours gazing at it, dreaming of the spiritual trek that awaited her when the Hunters finally came. She'd imagined living among a people that found enlighten-ment in pushing beyond their own physical limits, a race that found life and self-awareness in the honor-able death of a parasitic breed. Two years she'd waited, alone on the hot and barren world except for Creep and a few head of rhynth; she knew that one day they'd appear, looking for their missing ship. And when they came, she'd go with them, embarking on a journey unlike any other . . .

That wasn't a happy thought either, not anymore. Noguchi leaned back on the hard cot and crossed her legs, trying to come up with something that didn't make her hurt.

Past is over. Think of the future, not of what's already gone.It was a strong thought, a positive one, and it worked as long as she didn't remind herself that she re-lied on it constantly. Some days, it seemed to be all she had.

Except for the Hunt. The queen had been secured and was already producing eggs, which meant two days or less until the next one. It was going to be big, too; she'd gathered as much from the excited chatter of the novices on her way to her quarters. A big Hunt was something to look forward to, and this one sounded as important as any she'd participated in since coming to live with the yautja. Several well respected Hunters would rendezvous withShell, Leader and warrior alike, and the novices would finally be given their marks,

which meant many of them would move on. Blooding, the etched mark of a Leader on his student's forehead, was the sign that a teacher believed his trainee was trustworthy to Hunt alone.

She reached up and touched the jagged scar above the bridge of her nose, unable to stop herself from thinking about Broken Tusk. Dachande was his yautja name, but the curved tooth of his lower left mandible had been snapped off, and she still thought of him by the description.

Maybe things would have been different if he'd lived. Maybe we'd still be Hunting together . . .

Not necessarily true. They'd been thrown together under unusual circumstances, to say the least; if they'd met somewhere, anywhere else, perhaps her skull would be a trophy onhis wall now.

She sighed, shaking her head. She didn't believe that. Dachande had been a warrior of integrity and skill, and had respected her enough to Blood her, his fi-nal act before dying. They'd saved each other multiple times on that endless, bloody night so long ago. And she'd been so impressed, so changed by the experience that she'd chosen to join with his people. Who were so unlike him, she no longer knew what she was going to do.

There it was, the truth of it. Noguchi rolled over on one side, pulling her knees up, feeling an ache deep in her gut. After a lifetime of carefully building up de-fenses and learning how hurtful people could be, she'd rejected her own kind in favor of a race she knew nothing about. In her steady climb up the Chigusa cor-.porate ladder, she'd been called an ice queen, frigid, a robot—and on some level, the

mean-spirited tags had been accurate. She didn't reallylike people— —and so I gave them up. For this.

She couldn't discount the powerfully addictive thrill of the Hunt—but she also couldn't keep telling herself that things were going to get better. She was tolerated, no more; no one had even tried to teach her

anything beyond the most basic of yautja language, and she felt even more alone than when she'd been the sole human being on Ryushi. At least then, she'd had her dreams.

Impulsively, she reached out to the wave scanner next to the bed and tapped it on. The obsolete hunk of machinery was set to a search pattern, and started lisp-ing out static as she lay back down, reaching out into the universe for a channel in use. For months upon months, she hadn't touched the scanner, not even sure why she'd dragged it along; it couldn't transmit far enough to bother with, and didn't receive much better. But in the last few weeks, she'd been turning it on more and more. Sometimes, not often, she'd catch a word or two in English or Japanese—and that contact, insignificant as it was, soothed her.

With the soft hiss of blankness washing through the tiny room, Noguchi closed her eyes, finally al-lowing herself to think about what had happened and what it meant. She'd been berated for saving the mis-sion the first time, in the nest, and ignored for her ef-forts to help trap the queen once aboard. If one of the Hunters had escaped the queen's clutches, he would have commanded a new respect; had it been a novice, he might even have been Blooded.

Not an ooman, though. Not some tiny, pale, alien female. Doesn't matter that I carry Dachande's mark, or the name he gave me, doesn't matter that 1 joined the Hunters with a tro-phy that most Leaders don't even hope for—

". . .quest emergency . . . om any . . . receiv-ing . . ."

A young man's voice, barely audible through the blank spots and hissing static, whispered into the small room. Noguchi tensed, straining to make out the mes-sage.

". . . peat . . . land/Yutani . . . mesis . . ."

Weyland/Yutani, a name she hadn't thought of in years. The Company. She caught the word, "Repeat," clear as day, and

then there was a sharp, crackling pop—and the soft voice was gone. There was no way to know how long the message had been out there before her scanner had picked it up; maybe hours, maybe days. Maybe the sender had succumbed to his emergency and was al-ready dead.

Like me,she thought, and finally, the tears came. Noguchi curled into herself and let them fall, wonder-ing where there was left for her to go.

Six hours after Ellis made contact with the outpost, a D-Ship tractored them in and passed over enough fuel and air to last them to the surface. The fuel wasn't a problem, but D-Ships weren't designed to lend air to anything as small as an ETTC shuttle. Lucky for them, the ship's pilot was clever enough to have adapted one of their locks with an aperture compression tunnel; five minutes after the hookup, the shuttle's filters were clean, the weaves revitalized, the air changing from stale and dead to amazingly

sweet.

Company air. In a just universe, it would smell like shit.

Lara was piloting, Ellis was asleep again, and Jess was trying to come to terms with who they were fol-lowing. He sat stiffly next to Lara, hands in his lap, the smoldering anger in his gut making it impossible to rest. A Weyland/Yutani D-Ship for a Company survey outpost. Didn't it just fucking figure.

At least they'd had those six hours to feel good, to feel grateful to whatever God had seen fit to spare them yet again; it wasn't until the D-Ship made contact that they found out. The channel jockey, a man named Windy, had neglected to mention Bunda's affiliation. In fact, the obviously nervous Mr. Windy hadn't given them much at all, besides coordinates and ETAs, and that worried Jess as much as anything. It was a Com-pany planet, only a survey station, researchers and such, but still part of the same system that had so thor-oughly screwed them.

Before his well deserved death, Pop had made it

clear that Grigson—the exec in charge of volunteer Max teams—had sent them in to 949 to get a log from one of the docked ships, the Company Trader. And that once the data was retrieved, it was up to Pop to get rid of everyone who knew that theTrader had been the source of the alien outbreak.

Grigson sent the orders, but there was no chance in hell he was acting on his own. No chance.

"They probably figure we're dead anyway," Lara said quietly.

Jess smiled, just a little. After so much time stuck together, they seemed to be on the same wavelength.

"Yeah," he said. "Except we're not, and I figure they probably sent a heads up to every post in this half of the big black, just in case. You heard how Windy was."

Lara nodded slowly, keeping her tired gaze fixed on the nav screen. They were trail hooked to the D-Ship, nothing for her to do, but she was as by-the-book as they came; if even one number read was off, she'd be all over it.

"Right," she sighed. "So, any ideas?"

Jess shrugged. "See how it looks once we set down, I guess. I mean, we worked for 'em, and didn't know how fucked they were; maybe it's the same for this group. If we tell them what happened, they might help us."

"Assuming we can get them to believe us," Lara said.

He nodded. "And assuming they haven't already sent word back to the suits ..."

Of course they had, but he didn't need to tell her that. The security on Bunda probably already had or-ders to kill them . . .

. . .except why bother saving our asses out here, if they just mean to off us on landing?

The Max, maybe; it was an expensive piece of equipment—except it would be just as easy to salvage that after their air ran out. Funny, how complicated

things got when one found out that they weren't going to die after all ...

"Jess, you think there was something on that log? Besides proof that it was the Company's fuckup?"

He snorted. "Isn't that enough? Killing four hun-dred of their own is plenty, you ask me."

Lara finally looked away from the screen, frown-ing. "Grigson wanted that download and he wanted us dead, right? So if Bunda already told the Company that they found us, why wouldn't they just leave us out here to die, unless—"

"—unless they think maybe we hid the down-load," Jess finished.

They sat in silence for a moment, the quiet hum of the shuttle's systems interrupted only by Ellis's occa-sional snore from the back. They could knock them-selves out trying to guess what the Company did or didn't want, what information had been exchanged about the remnants of their team, whether or not they were slated for torture, death, or a vacation; what it came down to was that they wouldn't know until they knew.

"We wait," Jess said finally, scruffing at the stubble on his chin. "Wait and see what's what. We thank Whoever's calling the shots for pulling us in, get Ellis to a med program, hit the showers, and just—just wait and see."

Not the most comforting of answers, but it was the best he could do. Lara was together enough to handle herself, whatever came up; Ellis, on the other hand . . . physically, he was a lot better, but Jess wasn't sure how he was doing otherwise. There was a vague look in his eyes now that wasn't there before his sacri-ficial ride in the Max. And he sometimes talked about the suit like—well, like it was more than a suit.

Gonna have to watch out for him. . . .The kid had saved his life, and tried to save Teape and Pulaski; Jess wasn't about to let anything happen to him.

"Looking at—ETA five hours, twenty minutes," Lara said. "About 1100 on Bunda."

In just before lunch. Jess tried to think of some clever comment to go with the news, but he was too wasted. He really should try to get a little more sleep— except they were going to land in the middle of Com-pany in just a few hours, and that thought cinched the knot of rage in his belly. No way he could sleep.

That they were basically unarmed, exhausted, and outnumbered didn't make a difference. If the biotechs on Bunda didn't know how fucked the Company was, he was going to make sure they fully understood the situation. And if they did know, if they embraced the avarice and treachery of Weyland/Yutani with open arms . . .

. . .then they're gonna be sorry they ever picked up our call. Real sorry.

Jess sighed inwardly, wondering when he'd be-come such an optimist. Whatever happened next, it wasn't going to be up to him.

According to the files that Nirasawa had pulled, the head paper pusher on Bunda wasn't used to dealing with execs; Kevin Vincent was a botanist who'd been moved into admin by pure hap-penstance, a chart watcher for the thirty-plus techs on the small planet. Considering Vincent had made the monumental error of letting one of his people answer theNemesis shuttle's CDS, Briggs couldn't be more pleased with the circumstances; in his experience, sci-entists were a mostly spineless bunch, and Vincent wouldn't know that the mistake was a minor one—or that Briggs had been aware of the situation since well before the contact had been made. With as long as the shuttle had been drifting, there was no chance of infec-tion, but Briggs didn't want anyone to meet with the survivors before he did.

He grinned, looking forward to meeting Vincent and exercising his persuasive skills. The man would be under his thumb in less than a minute.

Nirasawa silently brought him a drink while Keene put in the call, the beverage as much for effect as anything. A suit holding a cocktail would scare the shit out of a botanist stationed someplace like Bunda.

"Mr. Briggs?" The granite-faced Keene had stepped into the cabin, his massive frame tucked into a tailor-made suit, a brown so dark it was almost black. The equally bulky Nirasawa was dressed the same; Briggs liked the look of a matched set.

Briggs nodded, tapping the connect key on the contoured wall unit, leaning back in his chair and tak-ing a sip of his drink. A thin-faced man, 40 TS or so with straggly blond hair, peered into the cabin.

"Mr. Briggs?" Vincent was already scared; Briggs could see the sweat on his upper lip, the high-res screen showing him each beaded droplet in perfect clarity. "I'm Kevin Vincent, ASM377, Bunda survey—"

"I know who you are," Briggs said. "And I under-stand you contacted a shuttle frormVemesis before you alerted the home office ... "

He leaned forward, setting the drink down and staring coldly at the nervous Vincent. ". . . and that you've already sent assistance to this shuttle. Is this ac-curate information?"

Vincent nodded rapidly, talking to match it. "Yes, sir, the AI didn't say anything about not talking to any-one in distress and my crew put in a call immediately to—"

"Yes, I understand all that," Briggs said. "Whatyou don't understand is how extremely delicate this matter is, and how continued . . .mismanagement of this situ-ation might result in some rather severe conse-quences."

Vincent looked miserable, and said nothing. Time for the push . . .

Briggs lifted his glass again, relaxing his tone. "Earthside wants me to handle this personally, but I'm still twelve hours away, give or take." The shuttle would set down in just under three. "Tell me . . . can I trust that the Company will have your full coopera-tion?"

Vincent couldn't answer quickly enough. "Yes, sir. Everyone—whatever you need, our entire operation

is at your disposal."

Briggs nodded. "Fine, that's fine. I want the shuttle quarantined, no one in or out, and no interaction be-tween your staff and the people on board, physical or verbal."

Vincent nodded, swallowing heavily before speak-ing. "Uh . . . there may be someone in need of medi-cal attention, Mr. Briggs."

Briggs knew that already, knew everything that had passed between the shuttle and Bunda. Three peo-ple were on board—a communications tech on con-tract, a volunteer ground-squad leader, and a MAX Doc. The MAX tech, a Brian K. Ellis, had been injured somehow.

"No interaction," he repeated, in a voice that promised death and destruction to anyone stupid enough to disobey. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Briggs smiled coldly. "Then we have nothing more to discuss."

Vincent nodded, finally wiping the sweat from his face with the back of one hand. "Yes, sir. I'll have our LZ coordinates sent to—"

Briggs tapped the disconnect before he could finish, satisfied that his instructions would be followed to the letter. With nonexec types, fear was usually the best motivator, especially with scientists. All Vincent wanted now was to get Briggs the hell away from Bunda as quickly as possible, so that he might return to his quiet little study habits.

He glanced around the plush cabin and saw that Keene had disappeared, probably gone back up to flirt with Irwin. The pilot struck Briggs as distinctly uninter-ested in male company, but Keene's intellect didn't ex-actly parallel his size. As long as he didn't interfere with her flying . . .

"Nirasawa, call up the psych profiles on our three

survivors and run persuasion thresholds ... I want direct and indirect stim, relationship differentials, and method probabilities."

The guard had been standing patiently next to the cabin entrance, waiting for direction. "Right away, Mr. Briggs. Shall I report orally, or would you prefer an in-terjection in the files—"

Holy hell.

"Just write it up, let me know when you're fin-ished," Briggs snapped, unable to sustain his irritation for more than a second. He was quite content with the smooth progression thus far and feeling positive about the outcome.

The Marine, she'll be the one. If it was volunteers only, I might run into trouble—but barring the deceased "Pop" Iz-zard, she's the most likely to have dealt with the material,andstill be Company loyal.

Really, he'd already won. Everyone had their price, gain or loss; once he found hers, or the tech's or the volunteer's, it was just a matter of convincing them that he would live up to his half long enough to un-cover the data.

If they were obtuse enough to believe him, they deserved what they would get.

The yautja didn't keep time the way humans did, but Noguchi knew they were close to the Hunt when the first ship docked toShell. Just a few came aboard, all Blooded, but it was only the first; within hours, four more transports had paused long enough to discharge anywhere from two to seven Hunters, veterans all. It seemed that only Topknot's trainees would be first Hunting; the rest had come for pleasure, which rein-forced what she'd already suspected—this was easily the biggest Hunt she'd seen, and she had to wonder if there was more than one queen populating whatever planet they'd be fighting on. For so many Hunters, the grounds would have to be seeded with hundreds.

After crying herself to sleep, Noguchi woke up unaccountably refreshed and at ease. Soon, she knew that she'd have to make some hard decisions; she chose to enjoy the mood rather than question it. She'd dressed in one of her three onboard "outfits," skimpy clothing she'd be embarrassed to wear anyplace but in the overhot Hunter environment—the bodysuit was Nylex, but still frayed after so much wear—and spent a few hours running through forms in the ship'skehrite, training room. Yautja days were about thirty hours long, and they slept for just over a third of that period. The two or three quiet hours that she could claim for herself—excepting the handful of night workers, of course—were often the best of her day.

A quick rinse in cold basin water, a breakfast ofspke, a kind of fruit stew, and the rest of the ship was awake. Topknot didn't call for training, another clue that the Hunt was near; he and the other Blooded were cleaning and readying weapons, testing audio loops— they wouldn't need blending camo, what Noguchi had come to think of as the invisibility factor, since bugs didn't have eyes—and marking out territories on a screen map.

Left to their own devices, the novices riled them-selves into a masculine lather, bragging, shoving, gen-erally acting like young males of any species. Noguchi spent most of the morning avoiding them; she hung around the ship's docking connector in a corner of shadows, watching the visiting Hunters come aboard.

Tress and another unBlooded she hadn't thought of a name for yet had been assigned to greet the visitors, directing them to wherever they wanted to go—the mess hall, the armory, "guest" quarters. Another series of metallicthumps at the lock told her that a fifth (or was it sixth?) ship had docked. Noguchi had just about decided to call the unnamed yautja "Sakana," the Jap-anese word for "fish," when Topknot suddenly ap-peared at the mouth of the tunnel back to the main part of the ship. Half a dozen novices trailed behind him, their speckled chests heaving with excitement.

Loincloths only were the standard dress for the train-ees; Blooded generally wore chest harnesses as well, for which she continued to be thankful. The yautja wouldn't be aroused in any way by her nudity, but she was still human enough to feel some modesty.

Topknot and his followers lined up beside Tress and Sakana, the Leader speaking quickly, apparently wrap-ping up a speech he'd been at for a while. Noguchi stepped away from the dark corner, gleaning as much as she could from his postures and words. Her physical makeup made it nearly impossible to speak an entire sentence in their language, but after a year of total im-mersion, she understood a lot more than they sus-pected.

. . .he is—a Blooded of songs, a yautja who—wins? wins many children, has trophies of all and

many ene-mies . . .

The Leader's respectful tone and the eagerness of his students was impressive; she'd never seen Topknot acknowledge another Hunter as anything better than competent. Whoever was docking had quite a reputa-tion, and she decided to stay for his grand entrance.

Broken Tusk—Dachande—was sung about, all great Leaders are. Perhaps this one is actually as worthy as he was . . .

As the air lock hummed into motion, Topknot fi-nally noticed her. He silenced the hissing young males, ignoring her. Noguchi was well aware that her pres-ence often complicated matters; she hung back but didn't leave, determined to exercise the rights of a Blooded Hunter, doing as she pleased when not on a Hunt.

She was surprised when he stepped into view, flanked by two others. He was in front, there was no doubt who was the Leader, but he wasyoung. The new arrival wore body armor but no mask; the scars across his speckled brow and on his clawed hands were exten-sive, but from the condition of his tusks and talons, he looked no older than an unBlooded.

Topknot greeted him, touching his shoulder and tilting his head, calling him by name, a phlegmy rattle. When the young warrior returned the gesture, Nogu-chi saw the piece of cloth wrapped around his wrist—

—and her vision tunneled, her heart skipping a beat. Without thinking, without making the appropri-ate request to approach, she stepped forward to see it better, certain that she must be mistaken.

No, can't be—

It was part of a Marine Corps banner, the three red stripes for land, sea, and aerospace, the design unmis-takable—themeaning unmistakable, worn around his

right forearm as a trophy, and she reached out to touch

—and remembered herself even as he backhanded her, knocking her to the floor, her arm going numb from the powerful smack.

Noguchi submitted automatically, her mind simul-taneously chiding her for her stupidity and trying to ra-tionalize the banner. The youthful Hunter stared at her for a moment along with Topknot and the others, silent and still—and then turned away, not acknowledging her apology but not interested in pursuing the matter, either. As one, the group started out of the lock, her in-subordination ignored but not forgotten, Topknot al-ready telling the newcomers about the territorial stakes.

Alone, Noguchi stayed on the floor, feeling con-flicted, angry and embarrassed and horribly confused. No Hunter would wear such a thing unless, unless he'dtaken it.

But the code, it had to have been a fair fight, the Marine must have attacked first because they won't Hunt intelligent species . . .

She couldn't even pretend to accept that. The pred-atory race Hunting humans? The difference in technol-ogy, in strength, in pure aggressive capacity—"fair" didn't enter into it, a Hunter could easily slip away from a human assault. It wasn't supposed to happen,

there were rules against it in spite of the Clan's general xenophobia—

—and they respect him. If it's such a taboo why do they respect him? What was his punishment?

There was no point in trying to convince herself that the Hunter had suffered for his actions, and even if the Marinehad attacked first, even if the warrior couldn't get away and was forced to kill—shewas hu-man.

Human, and living with a race that is disgusted by me and those like me. Hunting with a race that exalts a human killer.

This Hunt would be her last. No one would be sorry to see her go, Topknot would surely be thrilled to drop her off somewhere populated by her own kind.

And then what? Go back to corporate hustling, to a life with no life, to fifty hours a week behind a desk and no one to talk to. For excitement you could take up sport hunting, week-ends spent at a sim range, firing light at a screen—and inside, the part of you that is warrior will wither and fade, and you'll be one among billions, a lonely woman marking time until she runs out of will. Your Blooding will mean nothing, it will be an ugly scar from a life you once had. No more Hunting, Machiko. How honorable you '11 be . .

Noguchi sat on the floor for a very long time, feel-ing things that she thought she'd left far behind.

11

The drop into Bunda's atmo-sphere wasn't easy, but the small shuttle's design had been loosely based on the USCMC UD-4 series—not close enough to allow for maneuverability or comfort, but Lara was willing to settle for what itdid offer—the capacity to drop into a planet's atmosphere without burning to a crisp.

Thanks to an auto program loaded up by one of the pilots on Bunda, the shuttle broke through only mo-ments from the survey station and flew itself to the designated coordinates, giving the three passengers an opportunity to see the world that had found them. H/K MAX teams usually stayed out in the field for months at a time, with occasional R&R stops at satellite sta-tions—but even without weeks upon weeks of sterility to compare it to, Lara thought that she'd never seen such a beautiful place. Bunda was fantastically, wildly alive, the pale lemony sky strewn with flocks of indige-nous birds, the surface thick with plants in multiple shades of green. Ellis pointed out some movement through one of the clearings they passed over, and they

saw a group of brown-furred humanoid creatures lop-ing through the heavy grasses, tailed, each no more than a meter high. Like primates, if Lara remembered her history, test monkeys. Seeing them running free through the warm, living jungle was amazing, an anti-dote to the slaughterhouse that had been

DS 949.

The three of them sat in the warming cockpit, Ellis and Jess half-sitting on the copilot seat together. Lara was the only one with any flying experience, although hers was almost exclusively zero gee. It struck her again how incredibly lucky they were; saved, with only a few hours of air left, by people who had the technol-ogy to see them safely to this paradise.

If only it wasn't Company . . .

"There it is," Jess said, pointing roughly northeast from their moving position. Almost as he said it, the shuttle veered toward the station, giving them a clear view of where they were going. It wasn't as beautiful as Bunda, but it was close.

It was a design that Lara had heard about but never seen—an ME.Hess, Multi-Envelope, named after the architect who'd drafted the first, on Earth. The MEs were relatively inexpensive, durable, and because their contact with the ground was limited to a small number of relatively slender stabilizing posts and a single indus-trial lift, there was little danger of unexpected interac-tion with a planet's natural inhabitants—an important consideration in unexplored environments.

"It looks like a bunch of balloons with a couple of ledges tacked on," Jess said, and Lara smiled, nodding. In essence, that was exactly what they were looking at; the gigantic off-white spheres were filled with buoyant gasses, supporting a series of decks for landing and ob-servation, laboratories, and a decently sized living area. The uninflated "balloons" were much cheaper to transport than powdered plasticrete.

And Lord knows the Company's always looking at the bottom line— A rather tense male voice spoke clearly through the

'com, startling her a little. She wasn't used to being ad-dressed by her title anymore.

"Lieutenant Lara, this is Kevin Vincent, ASM for Bunda survey, do you read?"

Acting or Active Station Manager. Lara took a deep breath and tapped the return, aware that Jess and Ellis were both watching her nervously. She'd been second-in-command for the H/K team, only Pop outranking her; for a while, at least, she'd be speaking for all of them.

"Affirmative, Mr. Vincent. This is Second Lieuten-ant Katherine Lara from W-Y49392VVemesis. Also pres-ent are Martin Jess and Brian Ellis frormVemesis. On behalf of all of us, I'd like to—"

She'd wanted to thank him first thing, boost their chances for a warm reception, but Vincent cut her off.

"You'll be landing on Deck Seven, ETA four min-utes. Please remain aboard until we've had a chance to verify your status; we'll let you know when you've been cleared."

Lara frowned, her gut sinking. "Mr. Vincent, I can assure you that—"

"Over and out," he said. The 'com went dead.

Ellis looked pale. "What does that mean?" he asked. "Are they—do we have to wait until they call one of the home offices? Find out who we are?"

"It means they already have," Jess said, his voice tight with anger. He glared out at the growing station, his upper lip curled. "They don't want us wandering around, telling people what really happened. Probably gonna feed us some bullshit line about quarantine."

"But it's standard protocol, isn't it?" Ellis asked. "Us coming from an infected area?"

Jess laughed, a humorless bark. "Yeah, right. We don't have sleep capacity, they'd know that. For

Chris-sake, if one of us was dorked and corked, we'd all be wiped by now."

They fell into an uneasy silence as the shuttle low-ered itself over LZ Seven, the station giant now that

they were so close, Lara keeping her hands on the con-trols in case the program glitched. Jess was right, Bunda wasn't worried about infection—which could only mean that someone, Grigson maybe, had sent word. They were the sole survivors from an infested DS terminal, the only witnesses to a terrible mistake made by Weyland/Yutani, and there was no way the Com-pany was going to let them walk. What was the old saying? Out of the frying pan, into the fire . . .

As soon as the shuttle touched down, Jess stood and walked to the side hatch, talking back over his shoulder.

"We can't get off, but they didn't say anything about opening the door, did they?"

Before Lara or Ellis could move, Jess had hit the lock panel, jabbing at the controls determinedly. The thick metal door raised with a hiss and warm air flooded in, warm and almost overwhelmingly fragrant. It smelled of soil and vegetation, of sun-warmed life, of jungle rot. It was exquisite, and Lara and Ellis both stood and moved toward the open hatch, Lara feeling a reflexive need to breathe it in. She didn't notice that Jess had frozen, gazing out into the sunny morning with a look of disgust on his unshaven face.

"I guess they really don't want us to get off," he said softly.

Lara and Ellis stood on either side of him, looking at the six men and women standing some ten meters away, standing near a fuel hatch. Their expressions were grim, their bodies tensed—their hands white-knuckled on the carbine rifles they held, pointed at the open door of the shuttle.

At us.

The half dozen "guards" didn't move, didn't speak; they didn't have to. She and Jess and Ellis were prison-ers, and would be until the Company decided what was to be done with them. And in that second, realizing that the situation was only going to get worse, an idea that had been gradually forming in Lara's tired mind finally took shape. It was so obvious that she could hardly believe it hadn't already occurred to her. "Jess, Ellis. Back away from the door, slowly. We have to talk."

TheTrader's log had been destroyed, along with the Trader, the space station, their ship—but the Company didn't know that. If they did, she and the boys would be dead already.

And as long as they think we might have something they want . . .

Slowly, hands raised, the three of them moved away from the hatch, away from the light, the hope that Lara had felt at the sight of the beautiful world re-born as the idea solidified, the details falling into place.

If they played it right, there was a chance that they could walk away, after all.

Noguchi was in her quarters, sitting on her rumpled bed and lost in thought. The Hunt would begin soon, probably as soon as dusk fell over the planetShell was orbiting. Most of the eggs would have hatched by now, the face-hugging embryo carriers finding incubators, the aliens born in crunches of blood and bone.

They were much more active at night, on worlds that had night; most Hunts started when the day star set over the seeded planet. Even now, as the bugs began their violent domination of their new home, the Hunters would be arguing over the best sites, working through the rankings for each group of warriors, and planning path direction; Hunts usually started scattered, but al-most always ended with all of the groups meeting at a predesignated site—the better to display their bloody trophies, to count losses, and step up in caste.

The problem was, she didn't know if she could Hunt this time. Seeing the human trophy carried by the young Leader had shaken her, thrown her off-balance in a way that she hadn't expected. How would she be able to find the focus she'd need to Hunt? The damage that had been done to her respect for the yautja was

deep, and probably irreparable. She was afraid to leave, to go back to a way of life she didn't really under-stand— but she couldn't stay, either. The only question was, would she Hunt this last time? Could

she?

So heavy was her introspection, thethud at her door made her jump. It had to be Topknot, no one else had ever come to her quarters. Noguchi stood and walked to the door, not sure what she would say to him about her behavior in the ship dock. He hadn't Blooded her, but she was still a Hunter on his ship; her actions could affect his standing among other Leaders.

To her surprise, Topknot didn't seem angry when she opened the door. He greeted her instead, his mas-sive claw covering her shoulder, his upper and lower mandibles at rest. The Leader motioned her out of her room and toward the main part of the ship, his small eyes shaded in the low light by the thick bowl of his skull.

She stepped out into the corridor with him, some-how knowing what was next as they moved away from her room.

I've known for some time, haven't I? That it would come down to this . . .

The Leader signed as he walked, punctuating the simple gestures with simple words. He raised his hands, extending his claws. Touched his Blooding mark, a cross shape. Tapped his chest and motioned toward hers, clattering the sounds of proverb.

Those without honor are not part of the Hunt/Clan. Those who do not fight for their honor have no honor.

Noguchi signaled, fist to brow. /know this.

Topknot didn't speak for a moment, giving her time to prepare for the inevitable. She'd had the impression from the beginning that there was no love lost between Broken Tusk and Topknot, but he'd given her a chance, at least. For that, she still respected the Leader, even as she felt her anger rise.

The first thing she'd learned about Hunter culture was that you were only as good as your last fight; in

that way, every yautja was equal, Leader and novice alike. When a Hunter's courage or honor was in doubt, he had to fight. She waited, again, already knowing.

Topknot raised his claws again, gurgling the name of her opponent.

Noguchi signaled her understanding. Shorty. She was to fight an unBlooded. If she won, her status would remain unchanged. If she lost—if any Blooded Hunter lost to a novice—

I lose my place in the Hunt. In all Hunts.In time, she'd be given a chance to prove herself again—but consider-ing what she'd been thinking and feeling lately, there wasn't going to be a later. Her break with the Hunters was imminent.

Noguchi turned her face to an invisible sun, tracing her hand in a half circle. When? "H'ka-se,"Topknot growled.V/ow.

They were already walking toward thekehrite, the room where novices learned unarmed and simple blade combat. Noguchi took a deep breath, nodding in-wardly, resigned to whatever fate lay ahead.

Win or lose, it would be a relief.

12

Stupid damn gun—"

Davis Pratt jerked at the shotgun's cartridge holder as he stumbled through the bushes, wishing that he knew what the hell he was doing, or better yet, that he wasn't in the middle of the damn jungle with Rembert. Of all the men to be teamed with, something justhad to go wrong when he was out taking samples with Harold Rembert—

"Wait, wait a second," Rembert gasped from be-hind him, and when Pratt felt the touch on his shoul-der, he very nearly turned and shot the fat geologist.

Jesus, he's trying to give me a heart attack!

"Rembert, keep your damn hands offa me!" Pratt could hear the panic in his own voice and it only made him angrier and more afraid. He'd never seen a bug be-fore, eleven years doing soil tests for the Company and he'd seen a video, but that was all—

—and that was one of 'em, had to be, and what the hell is it doing on Bunda? "I don't, don't think it's, still coming," Rembert wheezed, and Pratt stopped, turning to look at the jungle that had closed up behind them. Leaves, grasses, branches, and ferns, the early-afternoon sun playing across the seemingly solid mass of green. No tall, shin-ing darkness, no rounded, phallic skull or drooling teeth, no claws. Maybe Rembert was right.

"I think we lost it," Rembert said, his jowly young face flushed and dripping with sweat. He bent over, hands on his knees, gulping air in ragged lungfuls.

"We gotta get back to the station," Pratt said, somewhat winded himself. He wasn't in as rotten shape as Rembert, but he also wasn't a young man anymore. "Gotta report this."

Rembert didn't answer, working too hard to breathe. Pratt held up the shotgun, a heavy old thing that

he'd carried for six months on Bunda and never fired before today, before twenty minutes ago. He pumped it, the satisfyingca-chuk of the deadly weapon making him feel only slightly less terrified. It seemed to be working now, it was stuck before, after he'd fired at the thing that had burst into the clearing where they'd stopped for lunch, no reason to think that a damn monster was going to jump out of the bushes like grin-ning death and—

STOP!

Pratt took a deep breath, nodding to himself, the sweat running hot down the back of his neck. Couldn't panic. Had to keep it together. Back to the station, two and a half klicks was all, tell Vincent, load everyone up on the 'copters. They only had two passenger ships ca-pable of spaceflight, but each one held twenty; it wouldn't even be too crowded and they'd be safe. They could just orbit, wait for the Company to send an H/K team, people trained to fight the bugs, to keep them from spreading, and—

"That was an XT, wasn't it?" Rembert breathed. "One of those bugs, like in the manual."

Pratt felt another surge of anger. Harold Rembert, fat and useless and as dense as mercury. "Yeah, and we

could be calling in help right now if you'd grabbed the damn radio!"

Rembert straightened up, his chins trembling. "Theradio? I was busy ducking, you fired three times and didn't come close to hitting anything butme!"

Pratt wanted to punch him, right in his fat face. So he wasn't a crack marksman, he checked dirt for acid-ity, for hell's sake; if he'd ever suspected that he'd be running through a stinking jungle with a bug on his ass, he would have practiced more.

"I won't miss next time," he snapped, "and you still could've remembered the radio."

Rembert didn't answer, his round face suddenly still, his eyes wide. He held up one bloated hand—

—andcrash through the leaves, in front of them, the thing leapt out into the open, shrieking, not five meters away—

—and Rembert screamed, and ran. Pratt jerked the shotgun up,take THAT you— Boom!

The blast made a huge hole through the leafy branch of a banyar tree, a full meter to the right of the creature. It reached out, its impossibly long and skeletal arm tipped with razor claws—

—and jerked the shotgun out of his hands, hissing, its spiny tail whipping through the grasses at its feet.

Fuck!

Pratt turned and sprinted away, his balls crawling into his lower belly, his sweat turning sick and cold. He ran, not hearing if the monster was behind him, not about to look, charging into the trail of still-moving leaves where the geologist had gone. The world turned into a green and sunny blur, flashing past like some terrible dream.

"Rembert!"He screamed, sorry for every crummy thing he'd ever thought about him, wanting nothing more than not to die alone,please, not that—

—andthere, kneeling next to a native tree, hunched over, his back to Pratt. Thank you!"Rembert, we can't stop, come on getup— "

Rembert didn't move but Pratt would make him, drag him if he had to. He tripped to a stop and grabbed Rembert's fleshy shoulder, pulling—

—and Harold Rembert fell backwards, but it wasn't the geologist, couldn't be, this man had no face, only a smooth, strange mask.

Bugs, baby bug things, no no no no—

The thought became screams but he didn't realize it, too horrified by what he was seeing. "No no no no—"

It was a giant, pulsing, spidery crab, its thickly corded tail wrapped around the fat man's throat. It was impregnating him, that was what they did, it was how they killed, and knowing what it was doing was enough that something in his mind gave way. He didn't hear himself cry out because too much of his awareness was taken up by the terrible, terrible thing in front of him.

Pratt was still screaming when he saw the other one skittering across the fertile ground, almost too fast to see. Still screaming as it coiled its prehensile tail against the dirt and lunged at him, slick, muscular fin-gers sliding into his hair, a soft, wet proboscis plugging his still-screaming mouth.

Davis Pratt stopped screaming. Out loud, anyway.

13

Not everyone onShell was jammed into the sticky-hot training room but it was very close. At least sixty Hunters were gathered around the slightly raised "stage," the musk of their combined aggression so thick that Noguchi could almost taste it as she and Topknot stepped into the room. The large gath-ering was talking loudly, laughing and pushing at each other until they saw her, at which point their clatter raised to a dull roar. It wasn't hard to inspire bloodlust in a yautja, and she had the feeling that some of them, at least, had been waiting a long time for this.

Shorty was already on the platform, dressed in a loincloth, talking excitedly to a small group of his peers. It seemed that being chosen to fight the ooman had raised his status somewhat, the other novices fi-nally interested in what he had to say about how ugly she was, how he would crush her honor, how this was really no fight at all.

We'll just see about that . . .

Shorty fell silent as she and the Leader approachedthe stage, but she could see the hatred in him as easily

as if he'd screamed for her blood. Already his hands were clenched, his tusks opened wide, exposing his small, toothy pink mouth.

Topknot stepped onto the platform and called for one of his Blooded to bring a mask to him, motioning for Noguchi to wait. As soon as he spoke, the Hunters fell quiet, only shuffling bodies and low trills; she barely heard them over the beating of her heart. She wasn't afraid, but knowing that her fight with Shorty would have everyone's full attention made her dis-tinctly self-conscious.

Don't think about it, don't think about any of it. Trust in yourself, in the skills you've worked so hard to achieve and maintain.

The Blooded Hunter handed the mask to Topknot, who then handed it to her. He didn't speak a single word of encouragement or even look at her, but she was deeply moved by the gesture nonetheless. Com-pared to a yautja skull, hers was thin as paper.

He knows that I don't deserve this, not with a novice.She'd been Blooded when she joined them, she'd never had to prove her status in hand-to-hand, and be-ing asked to fight an unBlooded was a serious slight. Hunter politics that she couldn't begin to understand were at play here, perhaps instigated by the young Leader she'd dared to touch.

Topknot spoke and gestured as she donned the mask, his deep, rolling voice filling the heated air. No-guchi only half translated to herself, too intent on her breathing, on psyching herself up for the fight.

. . .this is Clan and not Clan waging for honor . . . standard rules . . . when the matter is decided the first transports will leave for Hunt. . .

Deep breaths, slow and even. Her ragged braids were already plastered to her skull, her face dripping in the close confines of the mask. She heard Shorty's name and then her own, the name bestowed on her by Broken Tusk, Dahdtoudi.

Small knife, it means small knife because I am small but

deadly sharp, and I will win. I will best my opponent because I am faster and sharper, I am a warrior and he is no one.Standard rules, whoever was knocked off the stage or knocked out first lost the fight. Shorty would lose, /am the better fighter, more experienced. . .

The crowd roared anew as Topknot stepped off the lightly padded platform and Shorty moved to the cor-ner farthest from her. It was time. Noguchi closed her eyes for a half second, found her center, then boosted herself onto the stage with one hand.

As soon as she was on her feet, Shorty crouched, growling, his arms spread wide. He was small for a Hunter but bigger than she, probably twice her weight if only a half meter taller. If he managed to get his claws on her, the fight would be over.

Sodon't let it happen.

It was the last full thought she had before she let her instincts take over, crouching herself, ready to de-fend. The yautja howled for action, the platform trem-bling as they crushed against it for a better view.

With a wild, guttural scream, Shorty rushed her. He thrust one meaty hand forward to swat at her head, easily enough power to break her neck—

—and she sidestepped as she reached up and cupped his wrist with both of her hands, swung her up-per body into his lunge, down and left. She let him do the work, simply redirecting his charge.

Wham!Shorty went down, landing heavily on one shoulder, his weight pulling him ass over to land flat on his back. The room erupted in excited shouts, fury and disbelief and a desire for more, more battle, blood or death.

The unBlooded yautja crawled to his feet, his man-dibles spreading wide as he screamed his anger. He was furious,use it—

A leap toward her and Shorty swept his right arm at her head, still shrieking. Noguchi dropped, bringing her leg out and around, hitting the hot flesh of his an-kles with the side of her foot as hard as she could.

Wham!

As soon as he hit the floor she was up, dancing backwards, barely hearing the cacophony of almost fe-ral screams that filled thekehrite.

Shorty lunged up from where he'd fallen, the ha-tred in his tiny eyes now tainted with something new, pain, uncertainty, she didn't bother to guess. He/lew at her, kicking off from the padded floor, his entire body a ram that would crush her—

—and she kicked her feet up and out, landed on her butt as he reached her, lifted her legs and found his muscled belly with her bare feet. A single motion, Shorty continued his limited flight over her rolling body as she helped him along.

Wham,and there was a grunt of escaping air this time, a sound of pain and shock that only she could hear over the shrill cries of the watchers.

—finish this—

She leapt up and took one running jump, Shorty still rising from the stage,side of the knee—

—and her right foot slammed into his leg, not breaking the cap but surely bruising it badly, definitely pain on his face now as he reflexively grabbed his wound—

—and Noguchi landed and spun, bringing her foot up again, the full force of her body's momentum be-hind the roundhouse kick to his jaw. Strings of saliva flew from his mouth and he collapsed, elbows on the floor, his head hanging.

On all fours as he was, there was little chance that she could knock him off of the platform—but rendering him unconscious was a distinct possibility, and defi-nitely the more gratifying of the two. She couldn't let him recover, it would have to be fast, and she stepped back, ready to run, to deliver another well-placed kick—

—and someone grabbed her foot. Talons closed around her ankle, holding on, pulling her off-balance.

No!

She looked over her shoulder, saw only a sea of screaming faces, but it didn't matter who, she had to

get loose before Shorty regained himself.

She dropped as if to do a push-up and kicked back with her free leg. Her foot hit flesh, hard, the smooth feel of tusk against the sole telling her that she'd found her mark. The grip on her ankle fell away and she scrabbled to her feet, struggling to find her center again—

—and was slammed into, her head rocked back by the rounded dome of Shorty's skull, a head butt that knocked her backwards and made the shouts and faces and heat blur into a single thing, a noise-light that hurt—

—and before she could fall, Shorty's arms were grabbing at her, one giant fist raised, her head pushed down and she could only see the padded floor—

—and the pain was tremendous, a ton of hot metal landing across the back of her head. His fist, knocking her flat, the floor blessedly cool against her bare abdo-men. Her limbs suddenly felt far away and she knew that if he hit her again, he would probably kill her. In the space of only a few seconds, the fight had turned, turned and cemented an outcome.

Noguchi saw the clawed foot in front of her, saw it pull back, saw her only chance; with what little coordi-nation she could muster, she raised herself, hands and knees, tightening her gut—

—and when he kicked her, the top of his foot con-necting solid with her tensed muscles, she let it carry her. She flew, screams rising up, enveloping her mov-ing form, hot musk filling her senses—

—and she hit the floor, skidding, tall bodies moving aside to let her flesh finally stop her. Dazed and in pain, she lay on her back, catching her breath, trying to cata-log her injuries as sixty or more Hunters roared their approval. Shorty's voice seemed loudest of all, a word-less shriek of triumph that hurt even worse than her head.

She'd fought honorably, and lost because they hated her, because they couldn't stand to see her suc-ceed. Who would believe her, who would say that they'd witnessed the cheat?

Doesn't matter . . .

She closed her eyes behind the stifling mask, mak-ing no move to rise, not sure if she was angry or sad or relieved. She was alive, and no one could brand her a coward—but she'd lost her place in the Hunt.

No one reached down to help her to her feet, and that felt like the answer she'd been waiting for. After a year, it was finally over.

14

The sounds that poured up from the jungle as a pale twilight fell over Bunda were soothing, making Ellis feel sleepy in spite of their cir-cumstances. They were Earth sounds, some of them, gently repetitive insect noises that reminded him of a childhood long dead. He'd been sleeping too much, he knew, but his body was still recovering from the inter-face; he couldn't help feeling tired.

Seven hours thirteen minutes and still aboard the - shuttle, no contact at all with the people living on the station despite Lara's repeated efforts. Jess had even tried to engage a couple of the guards, but they weren't interested. Either they really believed that there was a risk of alien infection or they had been ordered not to talk to them.

Ellis sat cross-legged in the back of the shuttle, Max towering over him, hunched and empty. Lara and Jess were still in the cockpit, trying to raise Mr. Vincent from the station. Their voices seemed distant. Ellis fig-ured it was because the hatch was still open; the cool-ing Bunda air had a life of its own, a rich presence that

filled the shuttle and separated the occupants with its thickness . . . . . .more crazy thinking, maybe, but we don't care, do we?

Max said nothing. Of course, it wasn't alive, had never been alive even when its guts had been human. Ellis only had to close his eyes to see the dead volun-teer he'd pulled out of the machine back on DS 949, the insanity written in cruel lines across his pain-wracked face, his emaciated frame wrapped in circuits and lines and tubes. Pop had given Ellis the order to run the full program, up to stage three—massive doses of synthetic adrenaline pumped into the volunteer, cre-ating something even more savage than an alien horde—and it had killed him.

When Ellis had slid into Max, he'd had no idea what would happen. His only concerns at the time were the echoing screams on his headset, from Teape and Jess. Pulaski had already been dead by then, evis-cerated and bled out—and when Pop's voice had coolly informed them that they were dead, that he wasn't go-ing to be picking them up ...

. . .I got in. I got in, and stopped being Brian alone. I became ...ms.

Max's huge orange body was pitted and scratched, acid spots randomly spattered across its plated chest, but it still looked as powerful and deadly as when they'd first met. Its left arm was tipped with a revolving liquid-propulsion grenade launcher and pulse rifle, its right a tri-capacity M210 flamethrower; even sitting still, it was a formidable creature. They had worked well together, Ellis's mind computer and Max's physi-cal—awareness, if that was the right word. It was strange, how before they'd interfaced, Max had been MAX, just a machine. Ellis couldn't look at it now and think that; he'dbeen with Max, shared consciousness with it. It was just a machine the way that a diamond was just a rock.

Ellis gazed up at its soulless face, thinking about the

predicament they were in now. Lara had worked up a story about having looped theTrader's log on a locked channel before the explosion; she said that it was their only chance, that they could count on being killed if they didn't stick together . . .

. . .the way Max and I were together . . .

Ellis smiled dreamily. He and Max couldn't join again, it would probably kill him, but the idea, the memory was a comfort. Lara and Jess had been so wor-ried about him afterward, thinking that he wouldn't re-cover, but it wasn't like that. He'd recovered, he just understood more now, about what it meant not to be alone. About how dying wasn't so bad, when you'd been a part of something greater than yourself—

"What are you smiling about, kid?"

Ellis looked up at Jess and shook his head, still smiling. Jess was his friend, he was the man who'd led

Max Ellis through the infestation, but he couldn't pos-sibly understand. Lara, either. They'd think he was still . . . unwell.

"Nothing, really," he said. "Just how things change, you know?"

Jess smiled back, but Ellis could see that he was hesitant about it. "Yeah, sure. We almost die, survive, almost die, survive again."

Ellis nodded. "And now we wait for the Company to finish the story."

Jess's smile disappeared. Ellis saw the cold spark in his dark eyes, his feelings about Weyland/Yutani and what they'd done to his team an all-consuming rage. Ellis could see it as plainly as he could see that Jess was trying to fight it.

"We keep to our story, they won't do anything," Jess said slowly, as if to reassure Ellis that they would survive.

Ellis nodded again, and Jess walked stiffly away, back to where Lara was continuing her open hail. It was sad, that Jess still carried so much pain . . .

Well. That was Jess's battle, not his.

Ellis turned back to gaze at Max, remembering how they'd blasted great, smoking holes through the alien mass, how Max had saved him, how they had saved the others, 3017 rounds/121 Ml08 canister grenades launched 17.57 liters napthal fuel ignited within the terminal space . . .

Max was silent. Ellis sat and remembered, for both of them.

The dizziness and nausea had been the worst, the blow to her head leaving her feeling out of touch with her-self and her surroundings, but after a few hours' rest, she'd recovered. The rest of the damage was minor: a twisted ankle, the back of her neck bruised, her abs as sore as if she'd performed a thousand crunches. In an-other day or two, she'd be good as new.

Lucky me.

Noguchi stood at the door to the nest in the empty lower dock, staring in at the captive queen, not feeling much of anything. A sadness, perhaps. The last of the transports had departed, gone for the Hunt; there were only eleven yautja still on board, shipworkers all, and the giantShell felt as empty and hollow as she did.

The Hunt would go on into the early-morning hours; she'd already decided to speak to Topknot when he returned, after the Hunters' feast. Considering the nomadic nature of the Hunter culture, she had no doubts that they'd be passing a human outpost within a few weeks. She wouldn't be treated very well in the time she had left with them, but she'd fought compe-tently enough to hold her head up. Besides, she'd got-ten used to being treated poorly . . .

"But you're not, are you," she said softly, putting her hand on the window, looking at the giant, unmov-ing darkness strapped to the back wall. It was the first time she'd been down to see the imprisoned queen since her narrow escape from the nest, and she didn't like what she saw. There was a single shaft of puny light shining down over the trapped mother, casting

most of her in deep shadow. All of her impossibly strong limbs, shackled. Her tiered, lustrous comb, chained back. And most depressing, the thick cord strung between her outer jaws, gagging her.

The queen was tightly tied, the only real move-ment that of the eggs sliding through the short, mem-branous sac that she'd created only hours after being placed; eggs that were deposited onto a weight-triggered conveyer belt and moved to the side, ready to be loaded into a remote and sent off to some distant world.

In spite of her general dislike of drama, Noguchi found herself trying to draw some analogy between herself and the queen, perhaps because looking at the trapped animal made her feel the same vague sadness she felt for herself. They were both female. Both out of their element. Hindered warriors, maybe. Beaten down by the Hunters, surely . . .

. . . but not anymore, not for me.

She couldn't watch any longer, it was like watch-ing an insect impaled on a pin, dying slowly. Noguchi turned away, walking carefully toward the lift that would carry her back to the main rooms.

Past empty shelves, past an empty hallway, through the gate to the elevator platform. She touched the symbol of the clawed hand on the control panel and the machine hummed to life, rising smoothly, dark walls sliding past.

The thought of seeing, speaking to people again, was a frightening one—but exciting, too. What would she say, to explain where she'd come from? Telling the truth, she ran the risk of being whisked away to some corporate debriefing that could last months, depending on who owned the outpost. Chigusa was probably safe, they were an agribusiness. But Weyland/Yutani, or Biotech ... it was common knowledge that they were always looking for weapon apps and didn't mind exploiting whatever or whoever could bring them new opportunities.

Noguchi grinned as the elevator pulled to a stop, thinking about what a stir it would cause if she handed a burner over to the corporate community. Or a suit of armor, fully loaded—wrist blades, sound loop, filter system, and infra eyes . . .

She stepped off the lift, still smiling—and realized that shewas smiling. Not about her performance as a fighter, or for shaming a novice, or because she re-membered something that had made her laugh from a long time before. She was smiling because she was Machiko Dahdtoudi Noguchi, and she was getting the fuck away from the fucking Hunters, and how hard could having a conversation about work or the weather be, after the year she'd had?

The burst of giddy good humor lasted as long as it took her to limp two steps away from the elevator. TheShell was not her home, but Earth hadn't been her home, either. Her entire life prior to her meeting with Broken Tusk had been a pallid one. Socially, living with the Clan had been terrible—but the Hunt

itself . . .

Nothing matched the thrill of risking everything against success. On Earth, people paid small fortunes to experience even a taste of the hyperawareness and adrenaline high that came from putting one's life on the line, and that was only a taste. It was simulation, a fake; there was always an out, a panic button, no mat-ter what the experience, the liability laws firmly estab-lished.

Suddenly, she felt a deep longing for what was happening on the planet below the cloakedShell, the screams of triumph, the hot reek of pouring acid-splash, the dance with the blade. The Hunt, that she'd

never know again, and not because she'd chosen to turn away. She'd been cheated, systematically worn down and forced out, it wasn't fair and she hated them for taking her very life from her.

Noguchi limped slowly to her quarters, wanting nothing more than to sleep for a while.

15

Kelly Irwin was pleasantly sur-prised to hear a familiar voice coming up from Bunda, particularly after taking orders from Dickhead Briggs for the last couple of weeks—not to mention fending off his man Keene, the walking steroid. It was enough to make a girl want to get shit-faced drunk, and her only hope for Bunda was that the science boys had a stash of something or other put aside for emergencies.

She'd sent a standard comp alert to the station and had already dropped the lux Sun Jumper into the up-per reaches, the planet a dark blur beneath them, be-fore she made vocal contact. The necessary info had been shot back and forth and triple-checked via the Herriman-Weston PC, but Irwin liked the personal Touch, always had. Sun Jumpers were so state that she was bored, the auto self-rnonitoring and IFTDS making it about as complicated to fly as a paper plane.

Stifling a yawn, Irwin put in the call, watching the fly-by-light with only half an eye.

"Bunda survey, this is WY-1117 requesting confir-mation of landing clearance, come back." The planet

looked pretty in the early starlight, at least, lots of greenery. She was a city girl herself, but nature made a nice backdrop.

"WY-1117, you're cleared for Three . . . Irwin, is that you?"

She grinned, suddenly awake. She recognized Matt Windy's soft tones, the clipped way he said her name. He'd been training in communications and pattern control at the same WY program she'd gotten her li-cense from, EarthsideBuddha, how long's it been? Six, seven years?

"I'll be dipped! Windy, I didn't know you was working the outskirts. What'd you do, piss in some-one's

drink?"

He laughed. "Hey, Company pays top to anyone willing to leave the known universe, don't knock it. What's your excuse?"

"Playing chauffeur, thanksso much for reminding me. Anyway, gets me off of the merch runs, nice change of pace," Irwin said. "At least usually . . ."

Windy laughed again. "Usually? Don't tell me you're not enjoying aJumper, that's some kind of pilot sacrilege, isn't it?"

Irwin grinned again. "Actually, Iam getting bored, but it's more the suit, this time. Briggs, Lucas. A real tight-ass. He's been after me to bend the laws of physics since Zen's Respite—andno, I was not allowed to enjoy any of the Company amenities, so shut the fuck up."

When Windy spoke again, some of the humor had bled from his voice. "Hey . . . you know what all this is about? The Assman won't—"

Irwin interrupted, smiling. "Assman?" "ASM, you twit. Vincent."

Cute, she hadn't heard that one. "Anyway, you were saying?"

Windy pitched his voice even lower. "He won't tell us what's going on. Shuttle lands thisa.m., he says it comes from XT, but no way they've got chambers on

that thing, and the heads up we got says it happened days ago. So they can't be carrying, right?"

Irwin glanced at the cabin screen before she an-swered. Everyone was still belted, though Briggs looked constipated as usual, shifting in his seat. Who-ever was on that shuttle, he wanted 'embad.

"Got me," she said quietly. "Don't ask, don't tell, you know? It's big, though. This guy's hooked up, had the full service at Zen, priority calls on scramble, two hunks of meat in suits following him to the head, with wipes. And keep shut on this, but we left Zen's Respite yesterday, dig? Before your ASM put in the call. You wanna make some points, tell him to get his ass out on that deck."

"He's been out there for the last twenty minutes, since your comp signal," Windy said. "Assman's sweat-ing on this, and I don't blame him."

While they were talking, the Sun Jumper had dropped to an LZ alt, the dark treetops spinning be-neath them like a corrugated sea. At the edge of her vi-sion, Irwin thought she saw a flash of light somewhere deep in the jungle. It was gone before she could finish turning her head, but it reminded her that she wasn't getting paid to actually enjoy herself. Time to pay at-tention.

"Listen, gotta fly," she said. "You still gonna be on channels after we land?"

"Affirmative."

"Meet you in ten, then," she said, and tapped off the 'com, calling up a list of stats in the same move-ment. Fan pressure, skis down, bleed flaps flux, the numbers as text as they got. A yawn. Good ol' Windy, though. Briggs could go play corporate cloak and dag-ger; she was going to find Windy and see if he still had a taste for cheap whiskey, among other things.

Of all the outposts in the known goddamn universe they pick mine to land on, as if I didn't have enough to do already,

bringing the Company down on the back of my goddamn neck— "Do you hear something?"

Kevin Vincent glanced at Cabot, then turned his face back to the star-flecked sky, uninterested in hear-ing anything unless it was Briggs's ship. "No."

Cabot persisted. "I thought I heard . . . like a howl or something."

Probably Rembert, howling for supper.

To say so would be cruel; Cabot and the missing ge-ologist were friends. Pratt and Rembert hadn't checked in since before lunch, and day teams were required to put a call in every eight hours, which meant they were officially a couple hours overdue. No big deal, except they wouldn't answer a 26 hail, the code for, "drop ev-erything and answer your goddamn radio."

Vincent rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. They'd probably just dropped their damn radio, but it was one more hassle in a day of hassles. He'd have to send out a team if they hadn't shown by midnight. With any luck at all, Briggs would have his business finished by then and be gone.

Sure, why would he want to stay here? Little operation like this, no frills, he'll want to be out of here before the dust settles—

His wishful thinking was interrupted when he heard what Cabot had. A distant sound, southwest of the station maybe a couple of klicks—a kind of weird, harsh trilling sound, like nothing he'd ever heard be-fore. Cabot looked at him, a vaguely smug expression in his eyes.

"Mating season?" Vincent asked, knowing that it wasn't. And he'd never heard a sound like that coming out of a primacet, the only Bunda inhabitant with lungs big enough to project that kind of noise . . .

Before Cabot could do more than shake his head, the lights of a transport ship appeared on the near hori-zon, followed closely by the rumbling purr of an ex-pensive engine. To hell with strange noises, probably

an injured bird. Vincent had more important things to deal with.

He straightened his shoulders as the small ship moved toward them, wishing he'd never agreed to the admin position. He'd been six months away from his phytobiology doctorate when his theory on the medical applications of bryophytes had crashed and burned. The Bunda position was only two years and the idea of being an ASM had been appealing, a chance to raise his income, to relax far away from the viciously fevered world of scientific patenting . . .

. . .and what 1 got was a shitload of paperwork and the nickname "Assman." And the joy of groveling before men like Briggs.

The ship was a Sun Jumper,a private-elite. Briggs was definitely the highest suit ever to come to Bunda, the ship worth more than Vincent would see in his life-time, with extensions. It smoothly moved over the deck, the blast of heated air from its thrusters whipping at their clothes, and set down as gently as an extremely expensive feather.

Before the engines had finished powering down, a ramp slid out from near the back of the ship and the shining metal above it parted, melting to either side. Vincent and Cabot waited, Vincent taking a deep breath, reminding himself that this would be over soon.

Lucas Briggs stepped out onto the ramp looking as cool and elegant as he'd looked over the 'phone, his impeccably tailored suit the color of dried blood. Two men—two very large men—stepped out behind him, their stone faces and darting gazes telling Vincent who they were. Keene was the blond who'd placed the call on Briggs's behalf; the other was of some Asian descent that Vincent couldn't place. Both looked extremely ca-pable.

Vincent cleared his throat and stepped forward, de-termined to make things pleasant. "Welcome to Bunda,

Mr. Briggs. This is Tom Cabot, our Research Team Co-ordinator. I hope that you had—"

"Save the pleasantries, Vincent," Briggs said, step-ping close enough that Vincent could smell his subtle cologne. He had that lightly tanned, muscle-stim look that the privileged tended to wear to parties, and an at-titude to match. If he noticed Cabot at all, he didn't bother acknowledging him, and hardly glanced at Vin-cent's face.

"Where are they?" Briggs asked, apparently not in-terested in extending any pleasantries himself.

Terrific."Deck Seven, sir. As requested, they've been isolated and watched since their arrival . . ."

Briggs didn't seem to be too big on expressing praise, either. Vincent continued, feeling entirely out of his league.

". . . and, I'm sure you're eager to—ah, interview them. If you'll follow me . . . ?"

Briggs looked bored. "Nirasawa, Keene, go with him, search the shuttle. I'll be along shortly, I want to make sure Irwin refuels before she goes wandering off."

The bastard was addressing his own people, ignor-ing him entirely. Vincent gritted his teeth in what he hoped looked like a smile, saw Cabot assume the care-fully blank expression of a man on the brink of rolling his eyes.

Lord, please keep this man from ruining my life , . . Briggs was waiting.

"Of course," Vincent said, motioning toward the deck's flight prep room behind them; he'd had it cleaned for Briggs's arrival, although he was starting to see that trying to impress Lucas Briggs would be a monumental waste of time. "Mr. Cabot, please show Mr. Briggs to Seven when he's finished his business here. This way, gentlemen."

The two blank-faced guards followed obediently as Briggs turned around and moved back up the ramp. Cabot looked miserable, but Vincent couldn't muster

much sympathy for the man; if Briggs decided to fuck with them, file a report on Bunda, "Kevin Vincent" was going to be the name at the top.

Thinking of how great it was going to be when the contract expired on his administrative experience, Vin-cent led the guards through the efficiently bland prep room, the bizarre sound that he and Cabot had heard a few moments earlier the very last thing on his mind.

16

The shabby little transport was clean, no trace of the log in the system or on hard copy. It would have made things a lot easier, of course, but Briggs wasn't particularly disappointed. He was a nego-tiator, not some Company thug. Without a challenge, what was the point?

Not that there will be much challenge here . . .

He could see how easy his job would be from out-side as he'd watched his guards finish their search, Vin-cent watching over them anxiously. The three people he'd come to see were in terrible shape, grubby and tired-looking, not to mention rather fragrant. Even outside, the warm Bunda air pressing down from a cloudless night sky, he caught the unpleasant scent of their nervous sweat and unwashed bodies . . .

. . .and that horrible musky smell. . . That seemed to be coming from the dark wilderness far be-low, where unseen creatures shuffled randomly through the undergrowth. He hoped his runners would cave quickly; Bunda was one of those stinking Com-pany murkholes that wouldn't be livable until they

cleared the green, hooked up a compressor, and paved it over with plasticrete.

It shouldn't take long; the trio backed against the wall inside had the helpless look of the desperately un-prepared, and would probably give up the data before he could even finish his pitch. It was anticlimactic, really.

Assume nothing. Be ready, be sincere, don't forget what's at stake.

Briggs breathed deeply, realizing that he was a little nervous himself; he tended toward overconfidence when he was uncertain. If they didn't have the log, it was all for nothing . . .

No. They had it. Positive thinking.

When Nirasawa called the shuttle empty, Briggs stepped aboard, silently reaffirming the names with the faces as he motioned his men to move back, give him some room. They did the best they could, looking strangely dwarfed by the MAX at the back wall. Vin-cent made no move to leave, leaning against one of the pilot seats, although his man Cabot had already disap-peared. Briggs thought about asking the botanist to do the same, but decided it didn't matter; he would know better than to open his mouth—and if he didn't, or if things got out of hand, one less paper-pushing biotech was no great loss.

He smiled gently at the ragged trio, remembering the psych profiles,open conversation to begin, see which way they're already leaning . . .

"My name is Lucas Briggs," he said, letting the lit-tle smile fade, letting his face take on the sadness that their drama inspired. "As a Weyland/Yutani represen-tative, please allow me to express our deepest sympa-thies to you for what you must have experienced on DS 949. I'm not sure if you're aware, but there's a pos-sibility that one of our executives may have been in-volved in perpetuating this tragedy. I want to assure you that the matter will be thoroughly investigated."

No one spoke, although Briggs saw that they were

listening very carefully. He looked down, a touch of embarrassment in his gaze when he raised his head again.

"On a more personal note, I'd like to apologize for keeping you here all day, it's entirely my fault. I'd asked Mr. Vincent to hold you until I arrived, and there were some mechanical problems on my ship, a connec-tion break ... in any case, I meant to be here hours ago and was unable to send a message to tell him I was delayed. I'm truly sorry, and if you'd like to take show-ers or eat before we talk, stretch your legs, perhaps, I'd understand."

It was Katherine Lara who shook her head, taking the lead. "No, thank you. We're fine."

Briggs nodded, relief in his eyes,that's what you think, you people need to bathe, smiling a little. "Well, that's good. I won't keep you any longer than neces-sary."

So far, not much of a read. Lara was nervous, but obviously still the one to negotiate with. The convict, Jess, held so very still that Briggs decided he was proba-bly struggling to hold his temper; his profile suggested anger problems. And Ellis seemed—tired, perhaps. Dazed. Briggs couldn't see his alleged injury and de-cided that it was probably some sort of head trauma. They were all still listening, that was the important thing; the bit about a Company exec being involved should have erased any doubts they had about his hon-esty, and his apology for keeping them waiting had es-tablished his sincerity.

Now, then. They're as ready as they're going to be.

Briggs clasped his hands in front of him, as if pleased and excited about what he was going to say next. Nice, not to have to fake all of it.

The suit was so full of shit, he squeaked. Jess had been a little surprised at the admission of Company involve-ment, but it was as carefully designed as the rest of his patronizing little act.

"Trust me, I'm your friend"—the windup, and . . . here's the pitch!

"The Company has authorized me to make retribu-tion to you, for the terrible losses you've suffered," Briggs said, his black eyes shining as though he were about to give them some incredible gift. "Substantial retribution. Not only will you receive theNemesis's full bonus, we want to make certain that all of you feel that your futures are secure with Weyland/Yutani."

Arrogant, lying, backstabbing bastard—

"Whether or not you decide to continue with the Company, we'll see to it that your contracts are renego-tiated to bring you the financial gain and freedom that you deserve, for having been the unfortunate victims in this matter. Whether or not a Company employee was involved, the incident at 949 never should have happened."

Briggs finally paused, apparently having shoveled enough for the moment. The twin muscle boys hovered in the background, arms crossed, their faces unreadable. Kevin Vincent, the asshole who'd kept them stuck on the shuttle all day, was the only one with any expression at all—and he looked mildly terri-fied.

Jess wanted to spit in the suit's eye, but kept his face as blank as the threatening bookends that flanked the Max; he'd promised to keep cool, Lara was calling this one and he wasn't going to blow it.

"We—appreciate this, Mr. Briggs," Lara said, "really. But all we want is to get back to Earth, try to put all this behind us."

Briggs nodded, smiling even wider, and for the first time since he'd come aboard, Jess saw the thread of steel buried beneath the layers of plastic.

Will the real Lucas Briggs, please stand up . . .

"Whatever you want. I'll make the arrangements tonight." The grin sharpened, glittering as brightly as Ms

eyes. "Although there are a few final details that I need to get confirmation on, before we conclude our

business. Specifically, there was a ship's log that was supposed to be downloaded to theNemesis, from a Company transport on board the DS station. TheTrader?"

Lara had this one nailed. He's good, but not as good as he thinks.

Lara nodded slowly. "We downloaded it."

Briggs was dancing inside, Jess could see it. He shot a glance at Ellis, but the kid didn't seem to be tuned in, he was watching the bodyguards. Or maybe the Max.

"ToNemesis?" Briggs asked, too quickly.

Lara shook her head. "No. Well, originally to theNemesis, but there were some problems with the initial transfer, so we backed it up. I sent a locked copy to one of Pop's—Commander Izzard's—personal channels. He had a few accounts that weren't on Company file."

She smiled weakly before pushing on, a sheepish look on her face. Jess was impressed.

"I know it's not reg, but he seemed to think it was important to havea duplicate—and itwas an order. And since theNemesis was destroyed ... "

Briggs tried to put on a look of admonishment, but couldn't quite pull it off. "You're right, it wasn't regula-tion. Personal transfers of Company information is not only unethical, it's illegal." A pause, a conspiratorial look that made Jess grind his teeth. "But, since you've admitted it openly and youwere following his orders, I see no reason for any disciplinary action . . ."

He smiled, the all-forgiving suit once again. ". . . and to be honest, that log is important to Wey-land/Yutani. I'm just glad it survived the, ah, tragedy." 'You used that one already, Briggs, how 'bout "catastro-phe," or maybe "misadventure"? Jess hated him and what he stood for, he was a liar and a front man for li-ars, for murderers,keep it together, Jess, don't give in—

Another shark's smile, and a nod to one of his guards. "So . . . account number?"

Lara met his gaze evenly. "I'd like some insurance first, Mr. Briggs. That we'll have safe passage back to

Earth. In fact, I'd like to get to Earth before we turn that information over to you."

Briggs frowned, still smiling. "Ms. Lara, you have myword."

That was it. Before he could stop himself, Jess opened his mouth.

"We all know what that's worth, don't we?" Jess sneered. "Come off it, we know what you're trying to cover up, so stop already with your fuckin' song and dance!"

Silence, and everyone was looking at him, and Jess was too pissed to care, the man was a goddamnliar, if he was going to bribe them, at least let him be up front about it, aboutsomething. Jess didn't give a shit if Briggs killed him, there was a redness in front of his eyes that pounded at him, heat and fury, making him clench his fists and step toward the lying murderer—

—and the resignation and sorrow on Lara's face stopped him. It wasn't just his life. Jess closed his eyes for a second, forcing the red haze away, forcing some measure of control back.

Fix it, gotta fix it—

"Jess—" Lara said, but Briggs cut her off, fixing his now not-so-warm gaze on Jess's. The guards didn't move away from the back wall, but they unfolded their arms, watching closely.

"And just what am I trying to 'cover up'?" Briggs asked.

Jess took a deep breath, exhaled it sharply. He hadn't screwed it for them, not yet, he could still sal-vage Lara's plan.

If I'm careful, very fucking careful.

"What the Company did to those people," he said, working his anger, watching Briggs's eyes for any hint that the suit wasn't buying it. Briggs didn't twitch one way or the otherplay it through—

"You want the log, you're going to have to give us a little more than new contract negotiations," he snapped. "Lara and Ellis and I want to be the hell away

from you before we give it up—and we're looking for bigger money than a goddamn H/K bonus."

There was another silence, long enough for Jess to realize that the impassive Briggs knew he was faking. It was over, he'd just committed suicide and dragged Lara and the kid along for the ride. His temper, his goddamn temper,Lara, Ellis, I'm so sorry—

Briggs grinned—then laughed, shaking his head. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped half an octave, becoming as cold and hard as only a heartless suit's could be. No more apologies, no more

playing.

"All right, you've got us," he said. "Let's talk num-bers."

Jess wanted to be relieved, but could still feel the rage swirling in his gut like some boiling river. And ev-ery second they were with Briggs, it was going to get harder and harder to control.

Lara felt her insides melt. Briggs had bought it, Jess had pulled it off, but it had been close. She'd known Jess long enough to know that he'd been doing some seri-ous dancing to cover for a slip, and she wasn't going to risk letting it happen again.

As if I could stop it . . .She had to try. Ellis was get-ting worse; he'd been dreamily silent most of the after-noon and was now watching all of them as though he were some distant observer. They had to get him to a doc, and fuck the Company anyway. They could file charges when and if they made it home.

She cleared her throat, drawing the exec's atten-tion back to her. "We can worry about that after you get us the hell off of this rock," she said coolly, con-tinuing Jess's ploy. "Don't worry, we won't ask for more than we think it's worth. Now, why don't you see what you can do about a ship?"

Briggs laughed again, all pretense of sympathy and sincerity gone, and Lara felt her own anger rise up. She'd never loved the Company, but hadn't hated them, either, not until Pop had admitted his orders

from Grigson. This man was laughing over the graves of hundreds.

She shot a warning glance at Jess, hoping to God that he didn't lose it again.

Briggs finally chuckled to a stop. "Of course, of course. I can't tell you how—surprised I am, I suppose you could say. I had no idea that the three of you would turn out to be ... Company loyal."

Jess smiled, but his eyes were dangerously bright. "Are you kidding? A break like this doesn't come by every day, not for people like us."

Jess, don't, don't fuck around—

Briggs nodded. "Once in a lifetime. We've experi-mented before, but this was the first full-scale opera-tion."

"Really?" Jess asked. "I would have thought—"

"Jess, I want to get out of here, get a bath," Lara interrupted, praying that she sounded casually disinter-ested in their conversation, praying that he'd shut the hell up. "And Ellis needs to get some rest, remember?"

"I'm okay," Ellis said, looking at Briggs as if seeing him for the first time. "What were some of the experi-ments?"

Fuck.

Briggs lowered his voice conversationally, leaning toward them with a smug half smile. Now that he wasn't pretending to be their favorite uncle, he'd re-laxed considerably.

"I'm really not at liberty to discuss these things," he said, with the tone of a man who wanted very much to discuss them. To tell them how extremely clever he was. "I mean, you understand how important it is for the Company to maintain its edge over the competi-tion, and what the XT means to our military applica-tions programs ... so let's just say that nobody would want to buy what we're selling if they didn't have the proper documentation. DS 949 was specific to how fast an infestation spreads through an isolated

community, but we've also done extensive work in other arenas. I'm sure you can deduce the rest." Oh, God. Oh my God.

"It wasn't an accident," Jess said dully, and Lara didn't know how to stop him, didn't know if she could, her mind reeling. She felt sick, and shocked beyond simple repair.

On purpose, they did it on purpose, and tent us in to gather the results . . .

Briggs's eyes narrowed at Jess's tone, but he didn't seem to understand, not yet. "Of course it wasn't an accident. Believe me, it wasn't a decision that was made lightly, either. We had several billion dollars invested in that installation. And we didnot tell Com-mander Izzard to kill you people, I hope you under-stand that ... "

He trailed off, looking between the three of them, the realization dawning in his eyes.

"You don't have it, do you?" He asked.

Amazingly, it was Ellis who had the presence of mind to answer him. "Oh, we have it. And if anything happens to us—"

"You fucking bastard!"

Jess leapt for Briggs, his eyes wild, spittle flying from his lips. He grabbed the surprised exec's shoul-ders, still screaming, shaking him.

"They fucking DIED, they died, do you fucking under-stand—"

"Keene, Nirasawa!"

Jess was hauled off of the sputtering Briggs by the guards, his furious shouts cut short by a sharp, violent jab to the gut from the blond man. The Japanese grunt put one hand on Lara's shoulder, one on Ellis's, and squeezed hard enough that tears sprang to Lara's eyes. Behind them, Vincent let out a surprised squeak.

Gasping and doubled over, Jess vomited bile on the shuttle floor. Briggs stepped back, a sneer of distaste on his thin lips, straightening his suit with quick, angry fingers.

"Keene, again," Briggs said.

With a small, mean smile, the blond held on to Jess's collar, half-supporting him, Jess still trying to get his air back. Keene punched him once in the face, a hard blow to the jaw that rocked Jess's head back. Blood flew from his gasping lips.

"I will have that access code, make no mistake," Briggs spat, staring straight into Lara's wet gaze. "The only question is, how long will your friends have to suffer before you give it to me?"

17

Irwin was as drop-dead as Windy remembered, bright, casually sexy, and possess-ing a mouth that she probably shouldn't kiss her mother with; he liked that in a woman, femme types could be such a drag, and though they'd only flirted around back in training, he was hopeful for what the evening might bring.

They sat in control, sharing a flask of inexpensive blended synth and catching up. The door to the main observation deck was standing open, the soft night sounds of the jungle floating in on a balmy breeze, and they were alone, except for Evans. Technically, Windy was still on duty until midnight, but there weren't go-ing to be any calls coming in; the most excitement they'd had in months was already parked outside, and Evans was catching a nap in the corner, drooling on his own arm. If Windy got tipped and anything important happened, he'd just wake him up; Evans owed him, anyway.

". . . so I'm screaming emergency, the intake spike is hitching and my VTOL is out, right?" Irwin said. "And the dumb bitch tells me that she can't clear me until I send her my compressor reads."

Windy laughed, keeping his voice low. He didn't want to wake Evans up. "What did you say?"

Irwin grinned. "I told her, I'm about to drop six gross of barrel fuel oil all over your goddamn strip,' and if she wanted my reads, she could read them off her own ass after I branded 'em there."

"And what'd she say?"

"She told me I was cleared to land, not even a blink." Irwin sipped from the flask, handing it back to Windy. "I made it down, obviously. But I found out later, she walked the same day. Said she couldn't take the pressure."

Windy laughed again, shaking his head. "She should've taken this job. In the last eight months, I've landed four ships, including that shuttle and you. Most of my working time is spent listening to air and playing cards with Evans, or Tom Cabot . . ."

Irwin raised her arms over her head and stretched as he spoke, a movement that did wonders for his point of view. She caught his appraising look and deliberately shook her chest from side to side, grinning widely.

"Enjoy it, Windy, it's as close as you're going to get," she said sweetly. "Probably." "Probably?" he asked. "Any chance of upgrad-ing?"

Irwin shrugged, reaching for the whiskey. "We'll see. So, no interesting stories, huh? No wild-animal at-tacks out here? No secret jungle cults? Station fever?"

Windy sighed. "No. Hey, a couple of our survey guys went missing today, does that count?"

Irwin shook her head. "Probably not ... al-though that reminds me, I saw something when I was coming in, couple of klicks that way—" She pointed vaguely south. "Flash of light, real brief."

Windy frowned. "Huh. Maybe that's them. We don't have any perimeter set up, so it had to be—"

Ka-chink!

From just outside, like something metal being dropped onto the deck. "What's that?" Irwin asked nervously.

Windy didn't know. "Something fell off one of the landing decks, maybe ..."

There was a shuffling sound, like leaves brushing one of the smaller stabilizing envelopes—and then a soft clattering sound, like a bone rattle being shook under-water. They both stood up, looking toward the open door, Windy suddenly feeling stone sober in spite of how much drink he'd had. Eight months of quiet Bunda nights, learning every natural sound that the planet had to offer, and he'd never heard anything likethat.

"Something hanging off the platform, scraping the trees or something?" Irwin asked.

Windy shook his head. It was a calm night, and the nav computers automatically adjusted for flux when the wind was blowing. He knew he should take charge, walk out and look around and tell Irwin that it was nothing—but he didn't want to go outside. In fact, he felt quite strongly that it was a shitty idea. Don't be a wooze, not with her watching!

He was being stupid, and he also knew the longer he waited, the less he'd feel like moving. It was five meters to the door and he could see the deck past it, a piece of railing against a backdrop of darkness. Noth-ing, there was nothing there.

"Wait here a sec, okay?" He said, finally having shamed himself into heading for the door. Irwin ig-nored him, following one step behind; he decided that he didn't mind.

.Snap out of it, you're too old for this . . .

Windy paused at the door, searching for move-ment, and saw nothing. He hadn't realized how tense he'd become until he relaxed, the perfectly normal, or-dinary sight of nothing at all confirming how paranoid he was. He walked toward the railing, grinning at him-self.

"Nothing but me and thee and a shitload of trees,"

he said, and heard Irwin actually giggle behind him. Yeah, tonight was looking good, he couldn't remember having ever heard Kelly Irwingiggle—

"Hey, what's this?" he said absently, moving toward the rail. There was a metal claw hanging off of the top bar, likea grappling hook, a taut rope disap-pearing down into the leafy dark. Was someone actu-ally trying to climb the station? Bullshit. It was possible, the ground was only ten meters down, but who'd want to scale an ME when there was a lift? And even if one of the techs wanted to climb something, the area they'd picked was incredibly dangerous; if they happened to snag one of the stabilizers, they could do some serious damage—

Suddenly, the air in front of his eyes shifted, blur-ring, and a bitter, oily scent flooded his nostrils, and there was a sound like metal again—

—and then a scream, a howling, feral shriek that was so close Windy could feel its stinking heat across his face, and then heat on his throat, wet and sharp and complete, and then he couldn't stand up anymore.

The sudden scream was terrible, a bestial, animal cry that seemed to come from thin air, and then Windy fell backwards, and all Irwin could see was blood. A pump-ing, solid sheath of red that was dressing him, envelop-ing him from the neck down.

"Oh!" It was all she could think, confused and shockedHe was just standing there and now, now he's—

There was a distortion in front of her, in the very air; part of the railing seemed closer for just a second, as if it had been magnified, and Irwin heard a trilling sound coming from the distortion, a sound like a chok-ing bird, and she'd seen and heard enough.

She turned, sprinting back into the control room, streaming at the sleeping man in the corner, slamming her hand down on a panel of buttons that might close the door. "Sound the alarm, man down! Man down, something got him,sound the fuckin' alarm!"

Behind her, the door dropped shut—and at the same time, the floor shifted violently underfoot, tilting at a fifteen-degree slant before swinging back down. The flask on the console hit the floor, the air filling with the sharp smell of liquor, and from outside, an-other scream. A clicking, rattling shriek of fury, not hu-man and not alone, another cry rising to join it, and a third.

Irwin spun, desperately searching the thin air for that blurred strangeness, and saw nothing. The sleeper, Evans, was on his feet, stumbling for a control board and asking what had happened, what was happening.

Irwin didn't know, and Windy was surely dead. Shivering, she stumbled to a cabinet in the control room's corner to try and find some kind of a weapon.

The convict was only half-conscious, and Lara had started to insist that there was no download; the psych projections had suggested as much, and also that beat-ing Jess down was the surest path to her eventual sub-mission. Briggs let Keene continue, hoping that she'd give it up before the guard battered him to death; Briggs was a civilized man, and while violence was a valuable and often necessary tool, he didn't particularly enjoy watching it.

Their young teammate only seemed half-conscious himself, staring at the exo suit, lips trembling, as Lara screamed for Keene to stop. It really was fairly brutal. Briggs was starting to think that he'd have to drag the whole lot to the nearest Company lab for an expensive chemical flush when the station suddenly moved. Vio-lently.

Briggs wheeled his arms, grabbing one of the hand-holds on the wall as the floor settled back down, but at a slight list. Nirasawa still had Lara and Ellis in hand, al-though Keene had joined Jess on the floor. Vincent was clutching the pilot seat, an expression of alarm replac-ing the queasy look he'd worn for the last ten minutes.

"Vincent, what's going on?" Briggs demanded, his

heart fluttering from the unexpected jolt. Keene was on his feet again, looking to him for instruction, his knuckles red and swollen.

Vincent shook his head, his eyes wide. "I—I don't know, the whole platform like that, it has to be some-one at the main controls."

Wonderful.

"Show me," Briggs said, monumentally irritated by the rude interruption—and a little uncomfortable with the naked fear on Vincent's mousy face.

"Nirasawa, come with me. Keene, stay here. Let our . . prisoners have a moment to think about how they want this to end."

Keene stepped up to take Nirasawa's place, holding Lara and Ellis. It was a setback as far as keeping the pressure on, but Briggs wanted to be here when the woman finally broke. After all the effort he'd put in, he didn't want to miss the moment of triumph.

An alarm was sounding from somewhere lower on the station, an annoying bleat like some small animal being stepped on repeatedly. It bled up into the night sky, making Briggs even more uncomfortable.

What the hell's going on here?

Vincent stepped out onto the platform, Briggs and Nirasawa right behind—and it occurred to him that perhaps he wasn't the only one on Bunda aware of the information on that log. Aware that there were billions to be made for anyone— any corporation—with access to hard stats on infestation.

No, he'd been careful, the Company had it all locked down—

—but there are enemies within.

Someone like Julia Russ, maybe. Or any one of a dozen competitors he could think of, desperate for that spot on the Board. Weyland/Yutani wanted results, they didn't necessarily care who handed them in.

Briggs turned, leaning back into the stale shuttle air. "Watch for strangers," he said.

Keene, towering over his two charges, Jess at his feet, nodded briskly. It would have to do.

Briggs turned back to Vincent, motioning impa-tiently for him to lead the way—and deciding, quite firmly, that it was the monotonous scream of the sta-tion's alarm that was making him feel so anxious.

When the ME shook, Tom Cabot was hiding out in the rec room, watching a sci-fi holovid in near dark with a few of the researchers—Cindy and Di, both paleo women, and John C., one of the maintenance guys. The sudden up and down wasn't too bad where they were, all of them managed to keep their seats, but Cabot knew that parts of the station would have been harder hit.

The second it stopped, all of them were on their feet, moving toward the open door that led out onto the rec platform. The floor was slanted just a bit, Cabot could feel it, and when he heard the stabilizer alarm start up, he felt real fear. MEs weren't supposed to quake like that, and something had to be seriously wrong if the nav computers couldn't keep the alarm from sounding.

Either someone entered a drift code or we got caught on something big, something heavy, and it justhad to happen with a suit on board, didn't it? First time ever and Vincent'11 be having a shit fit. . .

They reached the door, moving out onto the plat-form littered with bolted tables and chairs, Cabot step-ping up to the railing. John C. and the two scientists joined him, identical expressions of nervous concern on their faces. The rec deck overlooked control directly, maybe they'd be able to see something—

"What's that?" Cindy said, pointing to the deck be-low. The outside lights were low, it was hard to tell, a sprawl of something wet, shining darkly . . .

"Oh,shit," Di said weakly. "It's Windy, that's Windy."

They stared down at what was left of the channel

watcher, no chance that he was alive with all of thatblood—

—and behind them, something shrieked. A gur-gling, unbridled howl, a scream of murder about to happen.

Cabot spun and saw nothing at all, but the horrible sound went on, erupting out of thin air, and then they

were all stumbling away from the rail, running for the tunnel that opened out onto the deck, that would take them away from the invisible screamer—

—and Cindy, closest to the corridor, let out a stran-gled cry and stopped cold, her head whipping back as if she'd run into something, her limbs flailing wildly. All of them pulled to a stop only a couple of meters behind her, clutching at each other like frightened children.

"What is it, what's happening?" John C. screamed, and no one answered, watching in shocked terror as metal claws appeared in front of Cindy, fromnowhere, a sharp sliding sound, and then they were swooping down from above, raking her open from throat to belly. Blood gushed out and hit the platform with a wetslap, and Cindy collapsed, crashing facefirst into the sudden lake of red.

Cabot didn't waste time wondering. He grabbed at John C. and Di, giving them a jerk before spinning around and sprinting for the door back into the rec room. He didn't turn back to see if they were following, didn't care, all he wanted was to get the fuck away from whatever had clawed Cindy open,oh, please God, Buddha, Jesus don't let me die—

Behind him, an alien howl, a caterwaul of triumph, and he was going to make it, the door wasright there—

—and the crazy hope that crashed through him as he burst into the dimly lit room was the last thing he felt, except for the unseen arm that clamped down across his throat, except for the slick, hot sensation of being drained as something cold slipped through his abdomen.

18

Noguchi was dozing, a light, restless sleep that seemed to be taking her in and out of unpleasant dreams, when the aging wave scanner started spitting out static and words.

Startled out of her doze, Noguchi rolled over to switch it off, wondering why she'd bothered to put the damned thing on in the first place. She touched the controls, then paused, her attention caught by the sound of the speaker's voice. A woman, and she sounded scared.

". . . Bunda survey, we are ... tack . . . lizers malfunctioning ..."

It was clearer than Noguchi was used to, the words sharper. She hit the tuner rather than the power switch and upped the volume a notch, then lay back down on her bunk, listening. With the channel reestablished, the connection cleared up a little.

". . . peat, this is Bunda survey ... are under attack, send help! The station . . . ucked up, I can . . . people screaming . . . ey're invisible, can't see them and . . ."

Noguchi sat up, staring at the scanner.

". . . killing everyone . . ."

Invisible. Attack.

Hunters.

Even through her shocked disbelief, it only took a second for everything to fall into place. The truth was so simple.

Wouldn't want me along on a Hunt where the grand fi-nale involves killing humans, would you?

"... can hear me, I'm gonna try to see . . . can get to ... ships, evacuate ..."

She barely heard it, the thoughts too sudden and overwhelming, blocking out everything else. The war-rior with the wrist banner, Topknot's decision for her to fight a novice on the morning of the Hunt, the consis-tent and all-consuming hatred that they'd held for her, from the beginning. What Hunter befriends their prey? Sharpening their skills on bugs, ranting on and on about the Hunter's code and the Blooding ritual, and maybe some of that was true—but the big Hunt, the one that brought Leaders and their veteran comrades in from throughout their universe . . .

. . .humans. They went down there to slaughter people.

For a moment, Noguchi couldn't move, her body stiff with the desperate need to dosomething, every muscle locked because she didn't know what that thing was. The transports were all gone, there was no way for her to get to the surface—but she couldn't do noth-ing, listening to some terrified woman screaming for help while she sat and waited for the Hunters to re-turn . . .

Topknot, her Leader. She'drespected him, and the pain of that thought turned to an anger deeper than mere emotion; her very soul had been betrayed, she'd suffered a year of hell adhering to a code created by hypocrites. By human killers.

Noguchi stood up and walked to the shelf in the corner of the little room before she knew what she was

going to do, pulling down things that had been given to her by the Hunters. There was the blade with the short-ened handle, the knee and shoulder pads that had been a child yautja's, a dull erose knife that she'd spent hours sharpening and polishing, honing to a sparkling sharpness. Throwaways from the Clan that she'd been proud to own . . .

She didn't have a plan as she started to dress, slip-ping into her armor, feeling stronger with each layer of splash suit and weaponry, the aches and pains of her body falling away. By the time she was finished, enough of an idea had formed that she was ready to act.

Noguchi was going to make her break with the Hunters in a way that they would never forget, and she was going to make peace with herself while she was doing it. When it was over, she would truly be free.

At last, Briggs and the others were gone and there was only Keene, watching them, holding Ellis's numb shoulder with a grip like a steel vise. Lara's, too, her lovely face lined with pain.

Ellis felt dizzy and sick and ashamed. Jess had been badly hurt and now Briggs didn't believe that there was no ship's log. Through all of it, the only thing that seemed clear—figuratively and literally—was Max. Max stood giant and invulnerable, watching it all, its hydraulic body almost glowing with energy at rest. Max had been the answer, and Ellis had ignored it.

/was afraid of pain, of dying, and I failed to act. If we were together, none of this would have happened, we could have stopped this before anyone was hurt. He'd been weak, he'd already forgotten what Max had taught him . . .

On the floor, Jess moaned. Ellis looked away from Max, feeling a physical ache in his stomach at the sight of his friend. Jess was on his back, his swollen eyes closed.

"Jess? Are you—can you hear me?" Lara asked, and let out a small cry as Keene gave her a rough

shake. Jess cracked his eyes open, rolling slowly onto his side, breathing shallowly.

"Yeah," he said, wincing. "Yeah, I hear you . . ." "Stay on the floor," Keene ordered, his Nordic face still flushed from beating Jess, from exertion or plea-sure or both. "Get up and I'll kill you."

Ellis looked at Max again, feeling as though his heart would break. They'd been getting closer since their joining, their thoughts running through his mind now and he'd been a fool, Max still had multiple—

—77.52,one hundredM309 rounds each—

—cartridges for the pulse rifle, at least twenty HEAP grenades left, and most of its secondary M210 tank was still full of napthal. Worst of all, Ellis knew that feeling sorry for what he hadn't done didn't matter at all, it didn't help and they were still going to be killed by Briggs for information that they didn't even have—

"Ellis, what's wrong?" Lara said sharply, a thread of terror in her voice.

Ellis turned his head, confused, saw that both Keene and Lara were looking at him—

—and then Lara was moving, bending her knees and slipping out from beneath Keene's hand, coming up from her crouch with her arm straight, her hand flat—

—and Ellis felt Keene's fingers clench and relax on his shoulder as Lara chopped the side of her hand into his throat, a sound like some crisp vegetable being snapped erupting from the blond's quivering lips. He grabbed at his neck with both hands, his eyes wide, his face purpling in seconds.

Lara was in a fighting stance, her hands up, ready to hit again—but Keene was no longer a threat. He crumpled to the floor still clutching at his throat, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. A few seconds later, he wasn't moving at all.

Ellis crouched next to him, putting a shaky hand over Keene's mouth. He wasn't breathing. "You killed him," Ellis said wonderingly.

Lara was already moving toward Jess, rubbing at her shoulder. "I used to be a Marine," she said. "People seem to keep forgetting that."

Together, they knelt next to Jess, Lara helping him to sit up. Jess groaned again but managed to stay up-right, holding his head in his hands. He squinted at Lara from red eyes, the welts on his face already dark-ening to black.

"Jesus. Remind me not to fuck with you," he said softly.

Lara smiled a little. "Yeah, well. I was tired of wait-ing for you to make your move." the floor of the shuttle trembled, the platform be-neath seeming to tilt a little more. The distant alarm continued to blare. Jess finally raised his head and sat up straight, gritting his teeth against his pain.

"We gotta get out of here," he said. "Can we take off?"

Lara shook her head. "We wouldn't make it more than a few klicks, we need to refuel. And we don't have VTOL, I have to program some kind of a flight plan."

Jess looked at Ellis, studying his face. "Kid, you with us?"

Ellis nodded, not sure what Jess was asking, know-ing only that he had to make up for his failure. "Yeah. Of course."

With help from both of them, Jess crawled to his feet, swaying for a moment— —.37—

—before he found his balance. Lara crouched next to Keene and rifled through his suit, pulling out the semiautomatic that had been taken earlier.

"Get on the program," Jess said. "Ellis, I'm going to need your help. Come on."

Ellis nodded, wondering why so much of this felt like a dream, why the numbers in his mind wouldn't stay, wouldn't take the place of the turbulent and un-pleasant emotions that continued to plague him. He

felt

confused and unsure of himself—but as he followed Jess out into the strange night, he swore that he wouldn't give in to his feelings, and that whatever it took, he wouldn't screw up again.

Johnathon Callistori, aka John C., made it to control without going outside again, using one of the mainte-nance stairwells and coming in from the corridor that led to the central lift. The door had been blocked, but he was let in once he'd screamed his name a few times, babbling his story out to the scared young archaeologist who opened the door. He'd had to jump over Cabot's body, dragging Di along with him, and before they made it to the tunnel she had been grabbed away, hot blood from her cut throat splashing against the backs of his legs as he crawled into the dark.

Control was packed, people crying and semihyster-ical and pale with shock. Windy and then two others had been murdered just outside, the sight of their bloody bodies feeding their collective terror. Cabot was dead, Vincent wasn't there, and there were a few more screaming, pounding knocks at the inner door, fright-ened researchers tumbling in with stories of alien howls and invisible beings, of friends and coworkers slain. In all, it took a few moments for any kind of or-der to be established. One of the pilots, Lee Goldmann, finally called for a head count. There were thirteen Bunda people missing, eight confirmed dead, and no one had any idea what had attacked them.

Goldmann and the other Bunda pilot, Les Drucker, called for an immediate evac. No one disagreed, except for Chris Aquino, who didn't want to leave without his missing lover, and a woman named Irwin, the Sun Jumper pilot who was waiting for her boss to show up. John C. thought they were nuts, but then, he wasn't all that sure of his own sanity anymore; the feel of Di's blood cooling against his calves was a nightmare like no other, turning part of his mind into a vague and shad-owy place that he did his best to stay out of.

Goldmann took charge, sending two of the more together biotechs to the supply room for what weapons Bunda had and getting Evans to set up the AD signal on a pulse to the next outpost. Once they were armed, they'd move out to the transports en masse and go. There was no real discussion about waiting for the missing few to show, the subject unanimously ignored; maybe they'd hear the ships warming up and make it out to the LZ in time to board. If they didn't, they were probably dead already.

Together, they waited for Karen and Rich to get back with weapons, silent and afraid as they listened to the open intercom, listened for screams. After Evans had sent out their auto-distress, he tried to get some of the others to join him in prayer, but he didn't have many takers. John C., a lapsed Catholic, thought that if Evans had seen whathe had, he'd realize that God had nothing to do with what had happened on Bunda; the Devil was more like it, the planet his now. If God had any interest at all in taking care of matters, there was going to be a war—and all John C. wanted was to get the hell out of Their way.

19

Noguchi walked purposefully through the ship, the three yautja she passed ignoring her completely. If they saw the burner strapped to her back, they didn't think it important. She'd been dis-honored, after all; what did they care if she chose to wander around in full armor, armed or not? That was her assumption, anyway, and all that mattered was that no one try to stop her as she made her way to op-erations.

TheShell's control room wasn't overly large, one long console running the length of the room with two bolted chairs, a wide front viewscreen, and the main terminal for the ship's computer. Everything in Clan culture was based around the Hunt, their technology advanced enough to make things like piloting ex-tremely simple; Hunters didn't waste time or energy in areas where there was no honor to be gained.

She stood just outside control in the large, empty shuttle dock where Topknot's transport usually sat, preparing herself for her first action. The two yautja in operations were older Hunters, past their prime, as

most shipworkers seemed to be. The attitude of yautja toward their elders was respectful, a kind of unspoken understanding existing that the "retired"could Hunt, but had simply decided not to; in this way, old Hunters that weren't lucky enough to have died in battle were still worthy of regard.

They don't Hunt anymore, but that doesn't mean they're any less dangerous.If anything, the fact that they'd sur-vived to become old in such a violent culture spoke very highly of their skills. They wouldn't be expecting to be attacked on a ship, but she'd still have to be fast and efficient, not a movement wasted.

The door was open, making it easier for her to slip silently into the room, walking on the balls of her pad-ded feet. Neither of the Hunters turned away from the console or from their conversation, probably trading stories of trophy Hunts. They were dressed only in har-ness tops and loincloths, no weapons within reach, and Noguchi managed to get within a meter before one of them noticed her. It was one of the few Hunters whose name she could actually pronounce, Prient'de, and he broke off talking, his tusks flaring wide with alarm—

—and Noguchi snapped out her wrist blades even as she swung, catching Prient'de under his chin in a swift and sure killing strike, dropping to one knee and turning, hand coming up as droplets of pale blood flew—

—and she rammed the wet blades into the other's lower belly as he rose, realizing too late that the ooman had come to kill them. She'd never named this other, and as he clutched at the strange coils of gut

that slid between his claws, toppling, hissing weakly, she thought that "Dead" suited him quite well. The light green, thin liquid that served as yautja blood was hot and smelled almost sweet, the scent filling the room as it flowed across the floor.

No going back, she was committed, and the thought made her own blood run hot. She didn't feel proud of having killed the unarmed Hunters, but there

was no guilt, either. She felt driven, she felt alive with intent, and there was a sense of righteousness in her heart that she knew would only get stronger.

Noguchi walked back to the door and closed it, pushing the lock control and turning the manual bolt. Given time and tools, the Hunters could get through— but she had a diversion in mind, something to take their minds off of the fact that they'd been hijacked.

No time like the present. She sat in front of the console, lifting the arm control from next to one of the small, circular monitors. The system activated; a series of symbols scrolled across the screen on a backdrop of red. Topknot had shown her once how their system worked, and he was going to regret it.

///can figure out what does what. . .

TheShell's system—and probably all yautja drives, she didn't know—was image-based, each tiny picture a representation of an action or thing. All she had to do was access the right area and connect the symbols in the correct order.

She touched the sensor "pen" to a silhouette of a yautja ship and another set of images popped up—a claw, a mask, lines representing doors, other symbols that she didn't know. There was an egg in the set, and she tapped that one; this time, the image of the queen came up, surrounded by new pictures.

She touched the queen, connecting it to a hand, what looked like a series of knots, a triangle, and back to the queen. There was a flash of green light, a warn-ing with new options available; Noguchi repeated the series and this time there was no warning flash. In-stead, the image of the queen appeared alone—and from the symbols that scrolled out beneath, she saw that she had been successful.

Bam bam bam!

Startled, Noguchi turned, saw a pair of faces through the thick window in the door, their mouths moving and mandibles flexing. They'd discovered her sooner than she'd expected, but it didn't matter—or it

wouldn't, in a few moments. One of them signaled "stop," fist out in front, and Noguchi turned away. Turned back to the screen, hoping that piloting the ship would be as easy as releasing the queen.

So now she knew what it felt like to be an outcast from two worlds. She'd turned her back on humanity because she'd never felt at home there, and now, by her own hand, she'd erased what Broken Tusk's mark meant to the Clan. She would be Hunted by them, ac-tively, and if they caught her, she wouldn't die quickly.

In that moment, she decided that she was happier than she'd ever been in her life.

If he hadn't had the shit so thoroughly kicked out of him, Jess probably could have managed to refuel the Nemesis shuttle on his own; not as fast as with two ex-perienced people, but having to walk Ellis through the process took a few minutes. Each passing second stretched like eternity, and though Jess's anger had

only increased with the beating, he felt like he'd learned his lesson on letting it get the better of him, at least for the moment. They had to get gone. Briggs and his other guard could be back at any time, with rein-forcements.

And if that's not incentive enough, something is very fucking wrong with this picture.

The tilted platform, the strange rustlings in the trees far below, the alarm that wouldn't shut off. It wasn't possible, but the station had a deserted feel to it, as if everyone had mysteriously disappeared. On the plus side, the freaky circumstances had stirred enough adrenaline through his bruised body that he was capa-ble of moving. But there was also a feeling in the air like death, like no matter what they did, their future didn't include making it off Bunda.

And it won't, if we don't get some fuel loaded into this thing . . .

Everything was ready on his end, flow rate ad-justed, the mixture and filtering set. Jess looked away

from the control console, over to where Ellis was trying to fit the hose into the shuttle's tank opening. Jess watched for a second and was about to call out for the kid to twist the damn connector to the right when Ellis got it. The line hooked, Jess hit the pump switch.

Lara leaned out of the shuttle, looking as nervous as Jess felt. "What's the holdup? Prelaunch is done, we're a go." She kept her voice low, her gaze darting left and right.

Jess started to give her a thumbs-up, wincing in-stead as his shoulder recommended otherwise. Every part of him hurt. "We're on, three minutes," he said.

Lara went back in, Jess turning his attention back to the fuel gauges on the console. Three minutes, and they'd be on their way. Even with the air filters cleaned and a full tank, they'd be facing death again within a week—but not at the hands of the Company, and that felt like the best they could hope for—

"Jess, look out!"Ellis screamed.

Jess looked up, confused, the kid was staring in his direction but there was nothing aroundisllis finally snapped—

Wham!

Something hit Jess's shoulder, hard, knocking him to the deck, the new pain brilliant and sharp. Jess clutched at his arm and looked up, saw nothing—

—except the air, moving. As if it had taken a tangi-ble form, a shifting, living, creature, and he could just make out what looked like twisted knots of hair but much too high, no man was that tall—

"Get away!"

The kid, screaming, and the strange, bitter smell hovering around the invisible monster was suddenly overwhelmed by the dizzying fumes of ship fuel. Jess heard liquid hitting the ground, heard Lara calling from inside the shuttle as the air creature moved, turning toward Ellis—

—and Ellis was suddenly only a few meters away, his young face contorted by fear and purpose, the dripping, arm-thick hose in his hands. Before Jess could do any more than sit up, Ellis opened the nozzle all the way, a blast of oily fuel shooting out at the shifting thing.

At once, Jess saw the creature outlined in the pow-erful river of liquid—a giant after all, humanoid, stag-gered by the fluid jet pounding at its massive chest. Ellis was struggling to keep hold of the whipping hose, the creature struggling to escape the blast—

—and Jess heard the sharp electriccrac^ come from the creature, from its invisible cloak, and saw the shud-dering change as parts of it became clear. Jess covered his face, screaming for Ellis to shut it off, to get back, and—

BA-BOOM!

—the bright, white orange night turned to thoughtless black and Jess followed it down, the mon-ster's dying howl chasing him into unconsciousness.

They'd moved out in groups of four and five, each group equipped with at least one weapon, each pale, terrified individual trying to watch all directions at once. All they had were shotguns, practically antiques, but Irwin didn't mind so much; beat the shit out of nothing at all, and one of the groups had agreed to come with her, to wait on board the Sun Jumper for Briggs. The rest of the researchers, scientists, and both Bunda pilots had headed off for the orbiter transports, docked near the top of the station.

Two men and a woman had come with Irwin, one of the men almost catatonic with fear; she and the other man, John something, had to drag him most of the way to the Jumper while the woman guarded. Be-neath the droning alarm the night was strangely silent, as if all the life on Bunda was holding its breath, hiding from whatever demons had come. The woman, a red-head named Tia, carried the shotgun with the grim, no-nonsense expression of a veteran soldier. Irwin was glad to have her along.

Once they were in, the hatch closed, Irwin warmed up the ship and joined the other three in the cabin, the viewscreen dialed to show the platform outside. The fear-struck scientist was already strapped in, his eyes blank and empty, but Tia and John seemed okay. No one approached, the faraway sounds of the transports taking off the only change in the strange air. They watched for what seemed like hours, although it couldn't have been more than a few minutes—and when the platform shook beneath them, a glow of or-ange light rising up past one of the envelopes along with the dull, muffled sound of an explosion, her com-panions had had enough waiting.

"If that was a stabilizer, the slant's about to get a fuckload worse," John said, turning to Irwin. "And if one of the envelopes gets blown through, the whole station's going down."

"Maybe your guy was on one of the transports," Tia said hopefully.

Irwin nodded slowly. Maybe he was. And if he wasn't, maybe it was because he was dead, and she wasn't so hot on the idea ofjoining him.

"Strap in," she said, and the relief on both their faces lent conviction to her decision. She was the pilot, these people were counting on her to take them to safety; Briggs and his twin goons were on their own.

Irwin snapped off the viewscreen and moved toward the cockpit, harnessing in and taking a final check on her passengers before she realized that she hadn't had time to think about what had happened to Windy. It had all happened so fast.

And we were going to be together, we both wanted it, and now it will never happen. He 'II never laugh at another one of my dumb stories, or drink to old times or kiss a woman, ever again—he's over, like some movie, dead.

Irwin brought the Jumper up, a tear running down her face for the terrible murder of her friend as they blasted away from Bunda survey.

Vincent was nearly hysterical when they finally made it to control, and Briggs had to suppress a serious urge to scream at him. It was bad enough that the ASM had led them halfway around the station trying to find a lift that worked, babbling all the way about what a Com-pany man he was. But at the sight of the corpses on the outside platform, followed by the sounds of Bunda's transport ships taking off, he'd graduated from annoy-ing to a possible liability.

They stood in control, Vincent pacing and tearful, his voice raised to a near shout.

"I don't understand, who could have done this? Why, why would anyone want to kill them, why didn't someone call us, why did they leave? Jesus, I don't un-derstand, where's Cabot, he wouldn't have left without trying to find us and—"

"Shutup," Briggs snapped, almost as irritated with himself as with the blithering Vincent. He hadn't ex-pected such a savage attack, hadn't been prepared for it, and God only knew what was happening to the three on the shuttle.

"Nirasawa, this station is under attack by person or persons unknown," he said briskly. "Get me back to theNemesis shuttle by the fastest possible route."

"Yes, Mr. Briggs," Nirasawa said, turning back to the outside platform. Briggs followed him, stepping over one of the extraordinarily dead people and wrin-kling his nose in disgust. All three had been eviscer-ated, which didn't strike him as the work of a Company exec—leading him to the unsettling conclusion that some outside competition was involved.

Vincent tagged after them, finally quiet, and as they reached the steps leading up to the next deck—

BA-BOOM!

Nirasawa reached back and gripped Briggs's arm before he could fall as the platform trembled violently, continuing its gradual slant. Briggs could see a reflected glow off the side of one of the spheres. Something was on fire, something in the direction of the H/K shuttle.

They'd have to hurry, these stations wouldn't with-stand a serious fire and with no one to put it out, it was only a matter of time—

"The whole platform's going to crash," Vincent said.

Brilliant.

"I don't understand," the ASM whined, stumbling up the stairs behind them. "Why would anyone—"

Briggs cut him off, tired of waiting for Vincent to figure out what was right in front of him. "Think about it—your survey hasn't turned up anything of particular value, has it ... yet someone has deemed it

neces-sary to attack your station and kill your people, on the very same day that a shuttle from the Nemesis lands. Tell me—do you really think Weyland/Yutani is the only corporation interested in the data they collected?"

They reached the top of the steps and started across another deck, the flickering glow getting stronger. Across the wide, empty expanse of dark platform was another set of stairs. Briggs sighed, feeling entirely put out with the circumstances, with the idiot botanist and the obstinate Lara and with whatever internal leak had led to the immensely inconvenient attack on Bunda's station.

"You mean anothercompany did this?" Vincent asked, his attempt at outrage coming out in a squeak.

Nirasawa had stopped, his head cocked as if listen-ing for something. Briggs glanced back at Vincent, wondering what he could possibly say that would make him be quiet. Nothing, he imagined, some people were just—

"Sir—trouble," Nirasawa said, and stepped forward with his arms raised, reaching out as if to grab a shadow. Briggs frowned, peering into the darkness—

—and suddenly, out of nowhere, a giant appeared. He was dressed in some kind of armor with long, beaded hair surrounding a full face mask. He towered over Nirasawa by half a meter, and the guard was by no means a small man.

A cloaking device!

"Wh—what is it?" Vincent stammered.

"Synthetic," Briggs said, unable to keep the awe out of his voice as Nirasawa grabbed the giant's arms, straining to hold him in place. Nirasawa was state, his vat-grown muscles fibered with steel thread, the com-bination of electrical stim and pumped microhydraulics providing him with exceptional power; Briggs had wanted two of them, but there simply weren't enough of his model to meet the demand. That the assailant seemed to be holding his own was simply amazing, and with aninvisibility device . . . this was big, he'd have to get a team on it as soon as possible.

"I'll hold him, Mr. Briggs," Nirasawa said, barely able to restrain the monster synth. "I would recom-mend you get to your Sun Jumper—"

The attacker slipped one hand free and slashed at Nirasawa's face, divots of layered flesh flying. The guard managed to restrain him again, but Briggs real-ized that he was right; the 949 log wouldn't do him any good if he were killed in a station explosion or mur-dered by one of these cloaked soldiers.

Back to the ship, wait for Nirasawa, and then have him fetch Keene and the others, we can conclude our business on the way back to Earth , . .

"Vincent, take point, I don't know the layout," Briggs said, reluctant to tear his gaze from the struggle. Truly astounding. There was a clattering sound coming from the strangely dressed synth, perhaps some mal-function. If Nirasawa could incapacitate it, carry it back to—

"But—Mr. Briggs, isn't that your ship?"

That got his attention. Briggs's head whipped around, his gaze following Vincent's pointing finger. For a second, he couldn't believe what he was seeing, unable to comprehend that Irwin woulddare— but the

elite Jumper was speeding away from the station, its sleek form unmistakable against the starry sky. Damn her, when I get back to Earth, I'll—

When he got back. Of course hewould, but sud-denly, he wasn't so sure that he should be worrying about what he would do to Irwin at some future date. There were more immediate concerns—and for the first time since he'd landed on this forsaken hole, for the first time inyears, he had no idea what the next step should be.

20

T.

I he force of the explosion pushed Jess underneath the shuttle, lucky for him; as it was, Lara had to slap out a patch of burning fabric on his leg before dragging him away from the growing fire.

She wasn't sure what had happened, she'd heard Ellis shout and then there was the explosion, the shut-tle rocking violently. She'd run out and seen Ellis fran-tically pulling the hose away from the ship, huge sections of the deck covered with burning fuel. She'd seen a flailing shape engulfed in flames only a few me-ters away, and for one terrible second, she'd been sure that it was Jess. If she hadn't heard him groaning from beneath the transport . . .

, Ellis joined them behind the shuttle, helping Lara pull Jess to the far railing, but Lara knew that they wouldn't be safe if the tanks caught fire. Jess started to come out of his daze, looking up into Ellis's stricken face as he rubbed at his jaw, obviously in pain.

"Ever heard of overkill, kid?" he asked.

Lara laughed weakly. Jess was okay, that was the important thing—but the realization that they weren't going to be flying anywhere was sinking in, making her feel very, very tired. God, is this ever going to end? "What happened?" Lara asked.

"I think I killed us," Ellis said, so softly that Lara barely heard it. "There was this—thing, it attacked Jess

He trailed off miserably, the dancing light of the de-veloping fire on his face making him look incredibly old. Lara put the rest together quickly enough; he'd sprayed the assailant with fuel and somehow, some-thing had caught fire.

"It was invisible," Jess said, using the rail to drag himself to his feet. "Some kind of electrical device, got shorted out and&oom."

Lara couldn't find it in herself to be surprised. A personal cloaking mechanism? Sure, why not, it was no stranger than corporate mass murder, no more im-probable than being fished out of the abyss on a dead shuttle in the first place.

There was a soft humming overhead and they all looked up to see a small ship go streaking across the

dark, close enough for them to see the Weyland/Yutani logo. Lara thought she'd heard other ships earlier

......... and what are the chances that there's still anyone left willing to give us a lift? Or anyone at

all? If there were people around, they sure weren't interested in putting out the fire that was currently consuming one of their landing decks.

"Briggs?" Jess asked, still watching as the ship shot away from the station.

Lara nodded. "Probably." She didn't say what she was thinking, what Jess and Ellis surely already knew. If a high suit like Briggs, who'd wanted them so much that he'd come to Bunda himself was giving it up—

—then things here are bad, really fuckin' bad.

Maybe the thing that had attacked Jess had been busy with the researchers, before; that might explain the ceaseless alarm, anyway. Or maybe it was just the

fact that the station's platforms had continued their slow tilt, at least fifteen degrees now; if they slanted much farther, there wouldn't be a stable deck to take off from.

"We gotta get out of here before the shuttle catches," Jess said, although he didn't look well enough to do much more than stand upright. And Ellis looked like he was on the verge of some emotional col-lapse, his entire body trembling, his eyes wide and shining with unshed tears.

"I'm so sorry," he said, taking a step away from them, his hands clenched into fists. "This is all my fault." "Hey, I might've done the same thing," Lara said, "or Jess. It's—"

"You dontunderstand," he said, his voice rising, "I've done everything wrong since we got here, every-thingl"

Instinctively, Lara took a step toward him, reaching out—

—and there was a sound so deep, so powerful, that they felt it as much as heard it,WHOOOF, an explosion of brilliant light, a massive wave of pressure that threw all of them against the waist-high railing. The deck be-neath them slanted past forty-five degrees, all of them falling, landing and skidding—

"Hang on!" Jess shouted, but there was nothing to hang onto. The deck was lit up like day and Lara rolled over, trying desperately to find a handhold on the slick platform. She saw the shuttle, burning, crashing across the deck and blowing right through the railing, a giant, tearing metal sound as it plunged over the side. She saw Ellis and Jess, scrabbling to hang on, saw both of them slide beneath the high rail, disappearing after the shuttle—

—and she saw the burning envelope, an incredible fireball of ignited gas, the flame eating the pliable shell like acid through paper. It was the last thing she saw as

she slipped over the side, falling through the shadow of the crashing station.

Within moments of her release, the alien queen had exacted her revenge on at least a handful of her cap-tors; nine, to be exact, the only Hunters left on board. Noguchi was too busy flying theShell to watch all of it, but she saw enough. The queen had somehow known where the yautja were gathered, and made her way unerringly to the dock outside of the pilot's room. How she'd negotiated the lifts and tunnels, Noguchi didn't know or care.

The ship hadn't yet broken through Bunda's at-mosphere when Noguchi heard the queen's shriek, a furious and somehow gleeful cry, echoing through the hollow dock. It pierced the clattering shouts of the yautja trying to break into the control room, the sounds of metal banging against the door cutting off in a heartbeat. She heard the Hunters cry warnings to one another, heard and felt the queen's thundering ap-proach, and felt a kind of perverse satisfaction at the thought of what would happen next.

They won't use burners, not on a queen. Not without Topknot's leave. And all of them, experienced veterans . . .Noguchi couldn't deny the curiosity she felt, wonder-ing how they'd fare against the loosed queen. She fin-ished with her "programming," directing theShell to home in on the signal from Topknot's craft, and hurried to the hatch's window. The battle was already in prog-ress, three Hunters down, dying or dead. Six were left, and they'd circled the raging queen with makeshift weapons, mallets, pry bars, a kind of pickax with one sharpened end; two of them were holding lengths of braided rope, and none wore armor of any kind.

Stupid and arrogant.Any sympathy Noguchi might have felt for them was pretty much wiped out by the simple fact that they were still there; instead of leaving, locking the queen inside and waiting for reinforce-ments to return—or just killing her outright, for that

matter—they meant to capture her again, without even bothering to arm themselves properly.

The queen, crouched in their midst, was swinging her head slowly back and forth, tilting it as if to mark their positions. Her tail curled restlessly about her gi-ant, clawed feet, its razor tip leaving long scratches in the deck's floor, occasionally slapping against one of the dead yautja nearby. He'd been clawed open, his chest a muddled soup of bone and green, and the queen's tail whipped streamers of his blood across the legs of some of those circling her.

Noguchi saw one of the Hunters behind the watch-ful bug, Beads, signal to another, one of the rope hold-ers; he was going to attack, and wanted both of the rope holders to move in while the queen was dis-tracted. Noguchi watched as the signal went around the circle, each of the Hunters picking it up—

—and as if she understood thatthey were distracted by their own foolish planning, the queen lunged for-ward, her tail coiling up behind her. She snatched at the nearest Hunter with both sets of ebony claws on her right side, her talons sliding into his chest before he could raise his pry bar. At the same time, her tail slashed out, knocking Beads and two others to the deck. The sharp tip cut through tendon and bone, crip-pling Beads and the Hunter to his left. One of Beads's feet was completely sliced off, toppling over into the gush of pale liquid that spurted from his ankle.

In a single move, she'd halved the group. With a fe-ral scream, she flung the limp Hunter hanging from her right hands away, his body smashing into one wall hard enough for Noguchi to hear the bones snapping, even through the door.

A Hunter she'd called Inu seized the opportunity, leaping forward with his "pick," burying the sharp end in the top of the screeching queen's left thigh. Even as a trickle of her blood started its bubbling erosion of the metal, Inu was lifted off his feet and held up in front of her grinning, drooling face. Her inner jaws shot out,

tearing into Inu's forehead, snapping closed and with-drawing in the blink of an eye. The Hunter's limbs were still spasming when she threw him aside—

—and theShell pitched forward suddenly, knock-ing the two yautja still standing to the floor, causing the

queen to stumble. Noguchi grabbed at the door's handle, managing to keep upright. She turned, saw that theShell was tunneling through Bunda's outer at-mosphere, flashes of light and dark painting the view-screen with violent, burning motion.

Another trumpeting howl from the queen. Nogu-chi turned back to the window just in time to see the bug mother put an end to the ill-planned assault—a step forward, a swift blow delivered, a lash of her tail, and it was over. The deck was awash with green, bro-ken bodies toppled together, unmoving. If the two crip-pled Hunters were still alive, Noguchi couldn't tell. And the queen—

Noguchi took a step back from the door as her long, midnight face filled the window, as she seemed to look into the control room. To look directly ather, her black comb sweeping up and out of sight, her grinning blind-ness tilted to smell or taste or hear the woman inside.

Noguchi studied her, filled with awe, afraid to breathe. She was a glorious, terrible creature, she was Death, the Black Warrior that the Hunters spoke of be-fore battle.

For a frozen moment, they faced each other, a bandwidth of clear plastic separating them—and then the monstrous queen turned and moved away, a dark grace in her fluid, powerful movements. Noguchi watched her disappear from the bloody dock, feeling as though she'd been spared, not knowing why.

Behind her, the console gurgled out a few yautja words, telling her that manual assistance was required to set exact coordinates. Noguchi turned and moved back to the controls, surprised to see the night sky of Bunda flashing by on the large viewscreen. It had taken less time than she'd thought . . .

Still dazed from her closeness to the alien queen, it took her a moment to see the bright spot on the moni-tor, a yellow-white flower in the dark jumble of the planet's surface, as big or bigger than theShell.

What—

An explosion, and a big one. Noguchi checked the monitor for Topknot's ship signal, and although she couldn't be sure she was reading it right, it appeared that he wasn't more than a few klicks from the fireball. In any case, it was obvious where the action on Bunda was centered.

Noguchi tapped at the controls, shifting the ship toward the light, hoping that she wasn't too late.

Kevin Vincent woke up hurting and alone, the bright heat from the burning station illuminating the crash of bushes he'd landed in. He tried to move, to sit up, but felt a sharp, stabbing pain across his back, centering on his left shoulder. He was able to turn his head, at least, enough to see the mass of flaming wreckage that had been Bunda survey. It seemed to stretch forever, klicks of smashed deck, klicks of burning, stinking envelope draped across mountains of debris.

"Shit," he whispered miserably, feeling terrible in every way possible. His station had been attacked, his people murdered for information about some abomina-ble experiment, and those who'd survived had fled, leaving him to die. Briggs was probably dead, no real comfort since he'd be held responsible, he seemed to have broken his shoulder—

. —and I'm lying in a goddamn bush and it's poking through my goddamn shirt and it HURTS, and why doesn't someone just put me out of my goddamn misery?

If he didn't move, the pain wasn't too bad. Vincent closed his eyes for a moment, sweat rolling off of his flushed skin, wondering what could possibly happen next. That he'd survived was a small miracle—not be-cause of the fall; the station had gone down slowly

enough for the fall to be survivable—but that the gods hadn't killed him already, just on general principles.

Because that would've been too easy, gotta let me live so I can understand how much they hate me, let me suffer a little more. No fun if I don't suffer . . .

The crackle and hiss of the giant, shallow fire was loud enough to occupy his hearing until thecrack of a thin branch not two meters away reached him. He in-stinctively tried to sit up, and was instantly knocked back by the pain.

"Owww, no, no, no, don't wanna die, please—" Vincent babbled out a stream of denial and wishes, eyes squenched shut, knowing that whatever was coming wasn't coming to help.

He was right. The thing that stood over him when he opened his eyes was the thing from the station, the synth that had been fighting Briggs's bodyguard—ex-cept it wasn't wearing its mask, and Vincent realized with a kind of numb horror that it wasn't a synthetic at all. He was struck speechless, his pleas dying in his throat, barely able to believe what he was seeing.

The creature that stared down at him was the ugli-est, most alien-looking thing he'd ever seen—a giant, bony head, speckled and fleshy, four fingerlike pincers on its beady-eyed, pink-mouthed, noseless face, each tipped with a gleaming tusk.

"What are you," Vincent whispered, and the crea-ture's pincers opened outward, fully exposing the small, pointed teeth in its strange mouth. The creature reached for something on its arm, holding its clawed hand up as it touched some kind of a bracelet—

—and Vincent heard his own voice spill out, "—no, no, don't wanna die, please—"

—and the creature flexed its arm, and two ex-tremely sharp and nasty-looking blades sprang out from behind its hand, curved and shining in the fire-light, and Vincent closed his eyes, thinking that if it was a bad dream, some hallucination, he wouldn't—

21

Ellis heard them calling his name and moved away as quietly as he could, deeply thankful that he hadn't killed them. They hadn't been hurt by the fall; Lara had a little bit of a limp but she'd told Jess it was nothing, and Jess hadn't been messed up any worse. After the beating he'd taken—

—because I didn't help—

—and nearly being immolated, Ellis was grateful that his stupidity hadn't cost Jess anything more. He wasn't going to do any more harm, to either of them— and that meant staying away. He was just lucky that he'd landed far enough from them that he'd had time to—

. Ellis stumbled over a broken branch and froze, hoping that they hadn't heard. He was so clumsy, and he'd hit his head when he'd fallen, hard enough that his interface wound had started oozing again. He felt dizzy and strange, but in a way, his mind was clearer than it had been since before DS 949.

Max, if I could only get to Max and protect them, save them again like before . . .

Before. Stronger, smarter,better, seeing the dangers as glowing green shapes surrounded by lines, calculat-ing distance and finding the optimum kill method in less time than it took to actuallythink it. The feelings he'd had then, so unimportant, so secondary to the task at hand. Ellis-Max, Max-Ellis, two as one, accom-plishing such, such—unity. Perfection.

"Ellis? Can you hear me?" Lara called, far to his right. At least six or seven meters, maybe as much as 7.40 . . .

Ellis finally let himself move again, wondering how he could have let himself be alone for so long when Max was waiting. There was no decision to make. They had all landed close to the burning, dying station, but he'd already led them far enough away that he'd be able to circle back, to get to the shuttle and Max before they could stop him.

The thought that even trying to interface again could kill him didn't cross his mind. It was the kind of fear that Brian Ellis would have had.

For a time, there was darkness, interrupted by brief bursts of sensation. Movement, and a hissing sound. Something shiny and slender and hard against his chest. A jungle smell, and wetness seeping through his suit, a clammy gel against his skin.

It was the wetness that finally woke Briggs up, the cool feel of the syrupy liquid dragging his mind out of the dark. For a brief moment, he had absolutely no idea where he was or how he'd come to be there—too brief, because as his memory came flooding back, the realiza-tion of where he'd ended up came with it. Neither one was particularly pleasant.

Some Company competitor had blown the survey station apart, and he'd apparently been knocked un-conscious when he'd fallen from the platform—and then taken, and now he was—well, surely he wouldn't actually beinjured in any way, Nirasawa or Keene would come before anything could happen .

Briggs shifted uncomfortably, his back against a tree, a thick band of resinlike substance binding his arms to his sides and holding him up. In front of him was an egg. An alien egg.

Biotech, has to be. Their program isn't that far behind ours, they could have transported some individual drones to Bunda, waited until one transformed, started a new nest . . .

Yes, that was it. Biotech had sabotaged the survey station because—because it was Company, that was all they cared about, just some random selection of a ri-val's site for their own experiments. That it happened to be on Bunda, and that the survivors of DS 949 had landed here—coincidence. They'd sent in their new synthetic breed to obtain the 949 data, because they knew the planet had been infected; it made perfect sense now that he thought about it. They wouldn't want to risk lives when they had such marvelous new toys, invisible soldiers that could be tested against their XT nest . . .

Quite a coincidence, I'll have to get Nirasawa to calculate the odds on that when he—

Briggs heard a hissing from somewhere behind him and tensed, turning his head as far as he could to look for the source. No good. All he could see was the bark of the tree he'd been secured to, a pasty gray blur. Really, it was too dark to see much of anything. He couldn't be far from the station, he could

smell the searing stench of burning plastics, but there wasn't any firelight. The only illumination came from the stars, a soft, pale light that gave his surroundings a dreamy, ethereal quality.

He looked at the egg again, smooth and unbroken, and felt the first sliver of real fear slip into his mind. What if . . .

"Ridiculous," he muttered, shifting uncomfortably. He was Lucas Briggs, upper six figures plus full WY perks, a palatial home in New Japan, only a fraction of

a millimeter away from a spot on the Board. A spot that was as good as his, once he filed his report.

Positive thinking. Like what I'll do to that pilot, once we're off Bunda. Like the look on Julia Russ's face when she hears about my promotion.

Keene was probably still guarding the trio of pris-oners, so it would be Nirasawa who found him; it was better that way. Keene was good but the synth would be able to handle a few drones with his bare hands. Much more efficient, much faster.

Briggs stared at the egg for a long moment, then cleared his throat, thinking that perhaps it would help things along if he made his position known.

"Nirasawa! I'm here!"

As if waiting for the sound of his voice, the top of the egg opened. Four thick, mucousy petals folded back, something moving in the shadowy center. Some-thing pulsing, glistening in the faint bluish light cast down from above.

"Nirasawa!"

More hisses rose up around him, shadows moving out from the trees, but he couldn't look away from the egg. This was laughable, he wasLucas Briggs, this couldn't possibly be happening,think positive, think posi-tive—

"NIRASAWA, KEENE, GET OVER HERE NOW!"

Like a spider, like some slick and impossible insect, the face-hugger leapt from its cold, unsealed womb. It was so fast that Briggs didn't have any more time to consider how very unlikely this outcome was, how things like this simply didn't happen to executives of his rank.

By the time Noguchi saw them, it was too late. TheShell had already touched the tops of the trees, roughly grinding through them, snapping them like twigs. Even strapped in, the ride was rough; she could hear the bodies in the dock being thrown against the walls, the ship alarms clattering and trilling that it was not a

cleared landing zone, telling her that theShell was suf-fering irreparable damage. As if she didn't know.

The ship continued its reckless half crash into the trees, the night broken by the reflected light of the gi-ant, dying fire close by—and Noguchi saw the two hu-mans in the viewscreen as theShell actually touched the ground, a tremendous, draggingcrunch of wood be-ing forced into the soil, of plants and trees being chopped down by the nose of the still-moving ship.

No!

Noguchi saw the two figures running, pumping hell-bent to get out of the way—and then the ship plowed upward, the jerking image of the fleeing people gone from the screen. She saw shadowed green, mov-ing, she saw a flash of dark sky, then green again—and then it was over, theShell coming to rest.

The second she felt that the ship had settled, she popped the seat harness and grabbed her mask, desper-ate to get out, to see if she'd done the unthinkable. What a cruel irony it would be, to be responsible for killing people she'd come to save from the Hunters, a Clan ship the instrument of their deaths.

She doubted that the queen had survived the land-ing, but she hesitated at the hatch back into the shuttle dock all the same, listening. She'd already half slipped into battle mode, all of her senses tuning up for what-ever came next. There was nothing but the clattering, hissing alarm, no sound, nofeel of movement. Noguchi moved quickly across the dock, popping the air-lock door on the east side.

The rush of air seemed cold compared to theShell's heated atmosphere, and she welcomed it, breathing deeply as she looked down, assessing her climb. The ship was easily twenty-five meters high, but there were trees pressed against the side, less than a four-meter drop to the closest branch; Noguchi donned her mask and quickly lowered herself over the lock's edge, able to slide part of the way down theShell's curving slope.

From the trees to the ground it was an easy climb,

mostly dropping from branch to branch, steadying her-self with one hand against the hull. Her ankle was still sore from her fight with Shorty, but the rest of her in-juries seemed to have melted away. As soon as her feet touched, she took off her mask, hurrying around to the front of the ship.

Please, let them be here, let them be unhurt—

Noguchi stepped away from the ship, searching— and there they were, standing in a small semi-clearing right in front of theShell. A man and a woman, both di-sheveled and dirty, both staring at her as if she were an alien; the thought made her smile, just a little. The woman, who held a handgun, lowered it slightly. They glanced at each other uncertainly, then back at her.

A sudden crunch of nerves hit her, seeing two hu-man faces, humanexpressions for the first time in—

—three years, it's been three years. What must I look like, what are they thinking? What am I going to say?

Noguchi forced herself to relax. She'd tell them the truth, that was all.

The woman was slender, long, reddish hair framing an intelligent and wary face. The man was dark-skinned, of African descent perhaps, and had been hurt recently; bruises covered his face and one of his eyes was badly swollen. Only the woman was armed, though the male held himself carefully, obviously pre-pared to fight if she were an attacker.

Noguchi swallowed dryly, stepping closer to the couple. "Sorry," she said, still smiling just a little, her heart pounding as if she faced an army of drones. "I've never had much luck with landings. My name is Machiko Noguchi, and I'm here to help."

Of all the weird shit Jess had seen and experienced in the last couple of weeks, this had to be, hands down, the absolute mother of 'em all. The crash landing of agiant alien ship that had very nearly run them down, followed by the appearance of a small, deadly-looking Japanese woman, maybe early 30s TS, with beaded hair and a scar shaped like a light-ning bolt between her eyes. Wearing alien armor that looked a hell of a lot like the armor on that cloaked creature . . .

. . .and the hair, and that mask she's holding. . .

"You're human," he said finally, a stupid statement but all he could think of; he wantedreassurance.

The woman, Noguchi, nodded almost shyly. "Yeah. Um, thanks. I—you'll have to excuse me, I haven't— you don't know how good it is to speak to people again."

They stood for a moment not speaking at all, just staring at one another, the crackling light of the ebbing station fire making it all seem even stranger, jagged shadows dancing across the peculiar scene. Jess knew

that they had to find Ellis, that they needed weapons and supplies, that they had to get off of Bunda—but all he could do was stare at this woman, wondering when he was going to wake up.

And just when I thought things couldn't get any more fantastic. Christ, what a freak show.

Lara finally broke their odd silence, taking a step toward Noguchi. "You said you were here to help, Ms. Noguchi—do you mind telling us exactly what's going on?"

Her smile gone, Noguchi looked down at the mask in her hands before answering, her stilted voice gaining strength as she spoke. "It's kind of a long story. I heard that people on this planet—on Bunda—were in trou-ble, and I knew that I had to choose which side I was going to be on, the Hunters' or yours."

Jess frowned, making the connection between the woman's clothes and hair and the thing that had jumped him near the shuttle; apparently, there was more than one. "The Hunters? The invisible, uh, peo-ple who attacked the survey station? You're with them?"

"I've been with them for over a year," Noguchi said. "And they're not human. I thought—I learned the hard way that it was a mistake to think a human being could adapt to their culture. Their Clan."

She grinned, the look of it sending a chill down Jess's spine. He'd had a hard life, and didn't know that he'd ever seen anything as dangerous as that smile. "Nowthey're learning just how big a mistake it was."

Jesus, whoisthis woman?

Noguchi shook her head, as if clearing it. "Look, I made quite an entrance, so it won't be long before we have company. Are there any .other survivors? We've got to round them up and get to cover."

Lara glanced over at him, and he shrugged, grimac-ing at the dozens of aches the action inspired. If there were any people left, the chances of finding them didn't seem so hot.

"You aren't the only ones, are you?" Noguchi asked.

"There are three of us, actually," Lara said. "There may be others, but ... I guess we have a long story of our own."

Noguchi nodded, scanning the trees behind them with the practiced ease of someone used to battle while Lara spoke. "And I'm interested in hearing it, but we're going to need more weapons," she said. "Stay here."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked quickly back around the mammoth nose of the alien ship, disappearing through the dancing, smoking shadows that twined through the broken trees.

" 'Hunters?' " Lara said quietly. "What are they hunting?"

Jess shook his head. "Us. I don't know. Maybe she can help us find Ellis, at least . . ."

He trailed off, wondering if Lara had considered the possibility that the kid wasn't lying in the dirt some-where, knocked out. The way he'd acted just before the platform crashed, guilt-ridden and near hysteria— maybe he'd run off, his fragile emotional state finally hitting overload.

Or could be he got killed by one of these alien friends of Ms. Noguchi's . . .The sudden appearance of the woman didn't seem real, even though the proof was right in front of them, twenty-plus meters high. Jess tried to think of something to say to Lara about the newest addition to their little party, feeling like they should have some exchange before she returned.

What's to say? She's here, and we're not in a position to turn away help, no matter how strange the helper.

"You think she's okay? Trustworthy?" Jess asked finally.

Lara hesitated for a second, then nodded. "Yeah. My gut says yeah."

Jess nodded, glad they agreed on her basic inten-tions if nothing else. Noguchi might be certifiable, but she obviously meant well.

Before they could talk any more, the woman reap-peared, striding through the long grasses of the partial clearing. She held two riflelike weapons in addition to the one strapped to her back. They looked something like old-style machine guns with oversize grips.

"These are, uh, burners," she said, handing Jess one of the heavy weapons, the other to Lara. She un-shouldered her own, holding it up for them to see the long, flat button on the front grip.

"Trigger. There's no safety, so be careful. No kick, either, but they ride high. They're kind of—they shoot a semiliquid pulse of ... explosive particles, I guess. I've—I'm not much of a scientist, you'll have to forgive my lack of knowledge here ... "

Jess held the ungainly "burner," remembering how big the creature that had attacked him had been; Noguchi handled hers easily, obviously comfortable with the overlong barrel and thick grips. Jess was sud-denly extremely glad that she'd decided to show up; she was something else . . .

Noguchi cleared her throat, looking between the two of them, smiling nervously again. "I'm sorry, I haven't even asked your names."

Amazing. She crashes a ship, shows up talking about traveling with a pack of aliens, and still blushes when she talks.

Lara gripped the burner tightly, speaking calmly to the anxious woman. "I'm Katherine Lara, this is Mar-tin Jess. The third member of our group is Brian Ellis; when the platform crashed, we lost track of him. As for any others ... a private shuttle and I think a couple of transports got away before the station went down, so maybe they're already safe."

Jess nodded, realizing that .Noguchi would need some background for their little saga to make sense. He picked the story up, trying to keep it short. "There are these creatures—aliens—that have been discovered all over the colonies. They're extremely dangerous, they can adapt to any environment, and they breed like

nothing you've ever seen. Lara, Ellis, and I were part of an extermination team that was sent to a space station a little over a week ago, to wipe out a nest of them. What we didn't know was that the station had been de-liberately infested . . ."

Jess hesitated, feeling the same old rage rising up. ". . . by the company we work for. They wanted to see how long it would take the aliens to kill four hun-dred people .Families."

He suddenly wished desperately that Briggs was still on Bunda, the rush of anger blocking out all other concerns. Lara touched his shoulder gently, taking over. "We lost two members of our ground team, and ended up here. They sent a suit—an executive—to see if we had the information about the nest spread, but we don't, it got blown up along with the station and about a thousand aliens. Bugs, we call them—"

Noguchi had listened to them without expression, but now she nodded, apparently unsurprised by their story—and what she said next was a shock that re-minded Jess of his earlier idiotic assumption, that meet-ing this woman was the strangest thing that had happened, thateould happen.

"I call them that, too. We have more in common than you know. To the Clan, they arekainde amedha, the Hard Meat. They are what the Hunters usually Hunt—and this world has been seeded with them."

Lara and Jess wore twin expressions of astonishment. Noguchi found herself marveling at the look of them both, at the intricate, telling lines and planes of their faces. If yautja faces were capable of subtlety, she'd never seen it.

Finish talking, there can't be much time left.

"There was even a bug mother on our ship," she said, nodding toward the groundedShell. "Probably dead now. The Hunters seed entire planets with eggs and Hunt drones for sport. It's—their entire culture is

built around the Hunt, it's very much like a religion for them."

Noguchi sighed, shaking her head. "I thought they had rules against Hunting intelligent life. Against Hunt-ing humans. It seems I was wrong."

Lara stared at her. "You mean they hunt bugs forfun?"

Noguchi nodded. "Apparently they started their Hunt in another part of Bunda, but it's still early. They'll

be heading this way very soon. You haven't seen any bugs yet?"

They both shook their heads, and she was glad to note that both immediately started watching the dark walls of jungle, alert to new danger. That they had been part of an extermination crew was good, they wouldn't be entirely helpless against the drones, at least . . .

"What about your friend, Ellis?" Noguchi asked. "You say you lost him?"

Lara nodded, but Jess shifted uncomfortably, his bruised face set unhappily.

"He may have lost us," he said softly. Noguchi no-ticed that Lara didn't seem surprised by the differing opinion, even though it was obvious they hadn't dis-cussed it.

"Another long story, but let's just say that he was injured on that space station, got kinda fucked up," Jess went on. "I think maybe he took off after the plat-form went down. He thought it was his fault."

Noguchi wasn't sure what to make of that. She hoped that they found him before any of the Hunters

did—

—except that it was already too late. The tiniest whiff of yautja musk was in the burnt air, she caught it even as she heard the softsnap of a branch underfoot, some twenty meters away, a slight rustling of leaves not far from it.

Novices, and they won't be alone.

"Get behind me, now," she said, putting the mask

on, wondering how many had come. It was a Blooding Hunt, only a few should have burners—except it had been a human Hunt, too, no way to know how heavily they'd armed themselves, she hadn't checked the weapon stock . . .

. . .and it doesn't matter, I have to protect them, get them out of harm's way . . .

Noguchi backed away from the line of trees, back toward the ship, Jess and Lara flanking her, covering either side. The Hunters wouldn't attack from a dis-tance—although she couldn't be positive, not knowing what rules they followed for Hunting ooman—

—no, human. Human beings. Kate Lara and Martin Jess.

After so long with the Hunters, she was astounded at how quickly she'd warmed to these two, and how easily they'd accepted her. These weren't the simpering colonists or corporate flunkies she'd expected; she would have fought for them either way, but the fact that they hunted bugs, that they were warriors of a sort, more than made up for the fact that she was risk-ing her life to save only two people. These were her people.

Noguchi knew that she was as swift and sure as any one of the Hunters, not as strong but undoubtedly smarter—because she wasn't so arrogant as to believe she would always prevail.

And I might lose . . . but I'll be damned if I die with-out taking some of them with me.

She'd get these people to safety, and then finish her business with the Hunters. As soon as they made it

into the deep shadow of the broken ship, Noguchi turned and ran, Lara and Ellis close behind as they plunged into the night jungle.

23

Noguchi ran through the dark scrub as though she were dancing, dodging branches and leaping over fallen trees with the grace and stam-ina of an expert gymnast—and she did it almost si-lently, making Lara wonder if the woman were a synthetic. She and Jess could barely keep up, and be-tween them, they made enough noise to alert the dead.

What did she hear, where are we going, how the hell are we going to hold our own against a race of bug hunters?

The questions whipped through her mind, unan-swerable, everything happening too fast. There was a growing ache in her right knee that got a little worse with each running step, making her wonder just how bad she'd screwed it up when the platform had gone down—and though they were veering away from the burning rubble of the station, smoke-thick, ambient light still layered through the trees, enough for her to see that Jess wasn't doing so great, either. She clutched the heavy weapon against her chest and struggled on, darting looks back at Jess to make sure he was still with them.

Just as Lara thought she might have to fall back, Noguchi slowed, holding up one gloved hand. The smaller woman raised her burner, cocking her head as if listening for something. Lara couldn't hear anything over the rapid thumps of her own heart, and Jess was trying not to gasp without much success.

This is crazy and we left Ellis behind, we have to—

Lara froze, hearing the hiss, the sweat on her skin turning cold. She raised her own weapon, darting a look back to see that Jess had also heard. The rising, breathing hiss of a drone or drones, close, nearly im-possible to pinpoint—

—and Noguchi fired, the burner making abrrrp sound, a strobe of brilliant blue-white exploding through the hanging branches and vines,BOOM! Plant matter flew, and Lara heard the shriek of a second bug even as the first was finally visible, making itself seen in bloody death. Noguchi's shot had blown through the drone's midsection, cutting it in two, both pieces crash-ing through the shadowed green on a spray of acid.

Before Lara or Jess could find the second screamer, Noguchi fired again, just to the right of the first. Again, they saw the drone as it died, the bug's scream shatter-ing out the back of its black skull. Leaves smoked and sizzled, a fresh smell of burning in the already soured air.

Didn't evenseethem—

Lara heard another alien trumpet, and another, ahead of them and at two o'clock. The bugs weren't close enough to attack, not yet, but the jungle was sud-denly alive with crashing movement, with the ap-proach of many.

"Nest,"Jess spat, and Lara knew it was true, knew that there wouldn't be such a deliberate attack unless they were near a breeding area.

Noguchi knew it, too. "Turn around," she said, her voice hollow from beneath her alien mask. She swept the trees with her burner, backing away from the hissing, the popping snaps of branches, from the distant shrieks growing by the second.

Lara turned, stepping in front of Jess and moving quickly back the way they'd come. She could hear Jess's ragged breathing behind her as she jumped a huddle of stocky plants, and from farther back, the rip-ping sound of Noguchi's burner as it fired again.

Back to that ship, maybe the damage isn't so bad and we can—

To Lara's left, a bug lunged out from behind a stand of trees, grinning and hissing, its clawed hands snatch-ing. Lara stumbled as she brought the awkward rifle around, fumbling for the trigger—

—andbrrrp-BOOM, a bolt of lightning tore through the air from behind her, from Jess's weapon, melting through the alien's spindly body, its left side disappear-ing in a liquid splash.

They didn't have time to stop, to regroup; if they didn't get out of the designated no-man's-land, the drones would keep coming. Lara glanced back, saw that Jess was on his feet, and sprinted ahead. She had no doubt that Noguchi was still bringing up the rear, not with how fast she'd wasted those first two—

"Stop!" Noguchi hissed, and Lara stumbled to a halt, every muscle in her body telling her to run, her soldier's mind obeying the voice of command—and a strange smell washed over her, like some rotting, oily fruit.

"Toward the station, go!" Noguchi said.

Lara turned right and saw Jess already a step ahead. Together they ran toward the glow of the fire, and it occurred to Lara that in a matter of minutes, they had accepted the unusual woman as their leader—and maybe as their only real chance to get off of Bunda alive.

The shuttle had landed on its side at an angle, the few things that had been aboard spilling out of the open hatch—including Keene's body, his dark suit smeared

with the contents of a few food packets, a spongy chunk of soypro actually stuck to one of his glazed, bulging eyes. Only his upper half was outside, his chest crushed between the doorframe and the ground, gluts of drying blood coming from every visible orifice. Ellis barely noticed, interested only in Max's condition as he crawled over the corpse's legs, searching the shadows beneath the webbed cots that hung down from what was now the ceiling. He stood up in the stilling dark, everything that had happened in the past hours jum-bling together, focusing his energy on the joining to come.

They need us now, they need what we can do.

There had been a terrible crash, an alien ship twice as big as theNemesis plowing through the trees, almost hitting Lara and Jess. Ellis had just reached the shuttle, their crashed transport close enough to the fire that one side was smoking, when he'd seen the ship come down. He'd had to run back, to make sure they hadn't been killed. A glimpse through the trees, the two of them standing in front of the ship, and the relief that had flowed through him had been incredible—not just because they were still alive, but because he still had a real reason to interface again with Max. As long as they were alive on this dangerous planet, they needed what he and Max had to offer.

It's who I am now. I thought I was sick, I thought the numbers and nonfeelings were a sickness, but they weren't. They aren't.

"They're us," Ellis breathed, talking to the thicken-ing of shadow in the back of the transport. His glasses had been lost, he couldn't remember when, but it was okay. Max would see for them both.

He felt his way through the dark, falling to his knees and crawling when he tripped over something, reaching out to touch Max. The heated air made the metal warm, as though Max had been waiting, warm-ing its empty guts for Ellis to slip inside.

Max was on its left side, its rifle arm pinned beneath its giant torso. Ellis crawled over the metal body, feeling for the circuit hatch set at the lower back. He found it and found the controls that would ready Max, his hands knowing what to do even without the years of training in hydraulic chem or the Company course; this was Max, as much a part of him now as he was of it. He stroked the chords that would sing it to life, grin-ning with excitement as he turned on the vocal trans-mit option, no headsets here,and they'll hear my voice, mine, speaking for us as we lead them to safety . . .

Next, the release on its back panel. With a silent plea, Ellis twisted the lock for the cavity.

Yes!It hadn't been jammed. Metal slid against metal, the hatch rising, stopping short of its full length when it hit the back wall. There was just enough room for him to slip inside.

Ellis wormed his way into the suit, wishing ab-sently that he'd thought to look over Max's condition when they'd still been drifting in the void. Before they'd joined on the station, he'd only had a moment to make adjustments—resetting the interface arm at the back of the head, switching off the IV pumps and monitors, doing all he could so that they could work together without a comp-synth implant. Toward the end of their time together, when his body had started to—

—die—

—rebel against Max, he'd had to randomly shut down some of the systems. It had been a blind and des-perate act, but it had worked, giving him enough con-trol over Max for them to make it off the station. He knew now, though, that it had been such a struggle, his body failing as it hadbecause he'd worked to dominate the machine.

"Not again," he said, working his legs into Max's, his feet finding the stirrups set just above the suit's knees. He reached back and closed the hatch, the inte-rior's temp jumping several degrees, from hot to suffo-

eating. Once Max was awake, the cooling system would kick on ...

Ellis pressed his arms to his sides, finding the touch-sensitive controls with his fingers, breathing deeply. Old sweat, chemicals, burnt wiring—smells that instantly took him back, the disjointed memories rising close to the surface. There was another scent, uglier, and he remembered that he'd vomited near the end—

—blood, you threw up blood—

—but he knew his olfactory senses would pretty much shut down once Max took over. All that was left was to lean back. The interface probe would complete the process when it touched him.

Ellis closed his eyes, preparing himself for the ini-tial pain as best he could; he took a deep breath and pushed his head back, a slight smile on his face as he felt the metal tip of the longer spike, as he heard the probe hum into action—

—and the pain was so sudden, so complete that for a half second, he was Brian Ellis again, a person, his thoughts all his own—and he knew that he'd made a horrible mistake, and that it was too late as his limbs started to convulse, as the prongs worked their way into him, boring the old holes wider, his blood spurting into the hot black of the robotic suit.

Nirasawa had been damaged, parts of his program inac-cessible, parts of his body in need of repair, but he put these matters aside; Mr. Briggs had been taken away. Mr. Briggs could very well be in danger, and Nirasawa would deal with his own problems once he'd found and secured the safety of Mr. Briggs.

It had been nearly twenty-four minutes since he'd last seen Mr. Briggs, on the second northwest deck of the Bunda survey station. The being that Nirasawa had been working to restrain had not been killed when the station had fallen, and Nirasawa had been detained from his primary function by the being once on the ground. The being, alien/organic in nature, had been

injured, making it easier for Nirasawa to render it harmless; he'd broken all four limbs and thrown its weapon away. The being had died within seven min-utes, although Nirasawa could not be any more specific as to the exact time; he'd already begun a perimeter search for Mr. Briggs, and had passed the dead alien be-ing seven minutes after he'd initially left it. The being could have ceased living at any period during those minutes.

Mr. Briggs had chosen not to be implanted with a signal 07901 patch, compatible to all Cyberdyne 07901 Guard series. Mr. Briggs's position would be known to Nirasawa at all times if Mr. Briggs had been implanted. It was a simple procedure, a painless injection that ful-filled all terms of Nirasawa's warranty and would en-sure a higher level of satisfaction on the part of Mr. Briggs; Nirasawa found it unfortunate that Mr. Briggs had declined the patch. Since he had no signal input, Nirasawa would have to search as programmed, an ex-panding perimeter search with possible directional changes based on suggestive evidence found.

Nirasawa's search had been unsuccessful. The sta-tion's malfunction and subsequent crash had created the problem of too much suggestive evidence, so Nirasawa had found it necessary to reduce his depen-dence on his heuristic logic driver, relying primarily on his intuitive functions. This, unfortunately, was one of the areas that had suffered damage, between 300 and 330 of the self-mapping connective loops no longer functioning. Nirasawa could not narrow the number down any further. He continued his expansion, tempo-rarily reducing power to damaged areas as he walked, searching for Mr. Briggs. He did not call for him, the existence of hostile beings making vocal contact a risk in the possible instance that Mr. Briggs was being held.

Nirasawa found Mr. Briggs fifty-two meters from the outer edge of the defunct station, thirty-three min-utes since last contact, Mr. Briggs restrained by an or-ganic substance that bound him to the trunk of a large

tree. Nirasawa sensed that there were several hidden beings in the vicinity but there were no threatening movements, so he did not increase their priority status. There was an alien ovoid in front of Mr. Briggs, and an alien body attached to Mr. Briggs's face.

Nirasawa acted quickly to fulfill his primary func-tion. He began to pull the foreign body from Mr. Briggs's face—and immediately, Mr. Briggs began to choke, the being's multiple legs tightening in a possibly damaging way around Mr. Briggs's head. Nirasawa ceased his efforts. There was a possibility that he knew what to do, that he understood what the alien body was, but that he'd lost access to that part of his pro-gram. As it was, he did not know how to protect Mr. Briggs from this threat.

Nirasawa saw that there were several animals simi-larly restrained in the immediate area, small mammals, many of them dead. All of them also had alien ovoids in front of them. Eggs. The probability that Mr. Briggs would die increased sharply with this information, and Nirasawa decided that it would be best to remove him from the situation.

Nirasawa carefully broke the stiff substance away from Mr. Briggs and lifted him, walking away from the egg area. He'd heard sounds of deliberate, high-functioning movement just after the alien craft had set down, eleven minutes earlier. If there were humans still on Bunda, perhaps he could seek out repair, for himself and for Mr. Briggs. It certainly couldn't hurt.

24

The decision was instantaneous, Noguchi calling out to Lara and Jess with the same breath that had inhaled the yautja musk. The Hunters probably knew it was she, and it occurred to her in that same instant that the recognition might inspire a differ-ent kind of Hunt. She had to separate from Lara and Jess; being marked as Noguchi's friends certainly wouldn't buy them any favor. Besides which, she'd led the trusting pair from the arms of the Hunters into the dangers of a bug zone and back again; she couldn't have known about the bugs, but she was responsible for what happened next, having taken it upon herself to step into a leadership role.

As soon as she shouted them toward the dying light of the station fire, she veered left, running in the opposite direction. If the Hunters went after Lara and Jess, the fire should confuse their infra sensors—the reason they evenhad infra finally clear—but chances were good that they'd be coming after her first.

There's no enemy like an old enemy, after all . . . An ordinary human trophy would be nothing next

to her skull on one of their walls; any Blooded worth his mark would have made the connection between the crashed ship and her running with humans, the magnitude of the betrayal such that they might very well leave off the Hunt, calling for her extermination over all else. She'd known that they would want her dead, but it hadn't figured that prominently in her plans—she hadn't known that she would be working to save only two people, that there would be so few targets for the Hunters' hatred. It probably couldn't be helped, but she had to at least try and redirect their at-tention.

Lead them toward the bugs, circle back for Lam and Jess and see if we can't find Topknot's ship.If she'd read the signal right back on theShell, his transport was only about a klick and a half west from her current—

Brrrp—

—BOOM,Noguchi was already diving, rolling through a tangle of bushes as a rain of fiery leaves fell all

around her. She was on her feet and running again before they finished dropping, zagging right. The alien grounds were close, she should be drawing attack any second. Drones sometimes gathered unhatched eggs on seeded planets, protecting them fiercely; it was a bad place to lead novice Hunters, dangerous, and if those chasing her now didn't break off their pursuit, they were going to have more to deal with than a single ren-egade ooman—

—andthere, coiling out of the dark like a bone ghost, a leering, lashing drone, hopping into her path from any one of a hundred places. Noguchi dodged left, pivoting, throwing herself back against a willowy tree as she brought up her burner. She fired, the blast catching the bug's shoulder, spinning it away—

—and she heard the clattering, trilling cry of a Hunter, a Leader, a howl joined by five, seven, ten oth-ers, more. If they hadn't recognized her before, any question was now gone—and she'd given them their target, killing without instruction in front of a Leader

and his group. The rising cries grew in ferocity, a har-mony of bloodlust that she'd once participated in, the one experience she'd shared with the predatory Clan, that she'd understood. The fevered, soul-consuming joy of Hunt—and this time, she was their prey.

But not an easy kill,her thoughts reaffirmed. They want a fight, they've got it.

Noguchi slipped around the tree and was away, the howl of the Hunters met by the screams of approaching drones, the two blending into a hellish music that spun up into the darkness, a melody of war.

Parts of the station fire had died to embers, chemical smoke and heat but no flame. Jess and Lara moved as far as they could into the mass of debris, the wreckage seeming to stretch forever. They'd found a large, jutting piece of blackened deck to stand behind, shielded from the open jungle—but it was too hot to lean against, and as the moments ticked past, Noguchi nowhere to be seen, Jess felt his energy failing. They heard animal sounds, screams, bugs and something else from some-where not far away, but he couldn't find the desire to care. He blinked, rubbing at his burning eyes—

—and suddenly, Lara was supporting him, holding him up, Jess fighting off a wave of vertigo and nausea.

"Jess? Are you okay?"

He let himself lean on her as much as he thought he could, smiling wearily at the look of worry on her smudged face. A couple of weeks ago, she'd been his boss, contracted Company on the H/K Max team he'd been serving time on. Hard to believe how much had changed—and he felt a sudden rush of love for her that was entirely pure, a feeling of connection that had nothing to do with sex or power or their positions in life. This woman, thisperson, had backed him up when things were bad, and continued to do so, because of who she was.

Me, too, Lara. As long as I'm able, you got what I have . . .

There weren't enough good words to express such a depth of camaraderie—and besides, it was cornball. He shook his head, thinking that human beings surely were a messed-up bunch; it was no wonder Noguchi had opted to fly away with a bunch of aliens.

"I'll survive," he said, then grinned. "Then, it isn't really up to me, is it?"

Lara grinned back, opening her mouth to reply—

—and they heard Noguchi's voice less than a meter away, startling both of them. "Were either of you

hurt?"

She stepped around the hunk of burnt deck as noiselessly as she'd approached, removing her mask as both of them shook their heads, Jess wondering again who the hell this womanwas.

"I'm sorry, I ran into a Hunting group," she said. "I led them back toward the drones, but I don't know if they engaged; we'll have to steer clear of both, hope for the best." Her lightly sweating face was as calm as if she'd just told them what the weather was like.

"The Leader—one of the Hunters has a ship, maybe two kilometers that way," Noguchi went on, pointing west. "It won't be guarded . . ."

She trailed off, and Jess realized that she was studying him, her sharp gaze taking in his stance and the bruises on his face. "Will you be able to walk?"

He didn't give her a knee-jerk response, realizing that a macho "yeah, of course," while good for his ego, wasn't going to help all that much if he collapsed in the jungle.

Jess took a deep breath, feeling the aches from Keene's beating, from the run-in with the Hunter, from the station's crash—and nodded, knowing that he could go on.

"I'm good. Not for long, maybe, but I'm still good," he said.

Noguchi watched him a moment longer, then nod-ded, slipping her mask back on. "We'll pass back by

where your friend was lost, then on to the ship. Stay close to me, both of you."

Jess and Lara exchanged a look of understanding at her words, of mutual unhappiness and a reluctant ac-ceptance. By unspoken agreement, they hadn't talked about the kid, about what they were going to do if they couldn't find him, but Noguchi had just said it for them. If they couldn't find Ellis, they'd have to leave him behind.

We'll find him. And if we don't, we can come back, do flybys until the sun's up, we're sure to see him . . .He held on to the thought, promising himself that they wouldn't leave Bunda without Ellis. Or Ellis's body.

Following Noguchi, they moved out from behind the broken deck, stepping carefully through the smok-ing pieces of the station, heading back toward the deeply shaded jungle. And then Jess heard something he'd heard before, in his nightmares and in the field, and felt his gut clench, felt his hopes for all of them dwindle to nothing. A monstrous shriek of animal fury, of hatred, of power and darkness, spilling out of the trees and enveloping them.

Queen.

The bug mother stepped out into the open from their left and screamed again, and at the sound of her terrible voice there was a crashing through the brush all around, hisses and trumpeting calls, her sleek chil-dren coming to join her.

As one, they raised their weapons—and heard and saw a band of giants glide out of the dark to their right, armored and masked, Noguchi's Hunters. Most held bladed staffs and all stood as warriors, silent and face-less, watching the trio of humans and giving nothing away.

For a beat, nothing moved. It was just enough time for Jess to take aim, and then everything exploded at once.

Brrrp-BOOM,Lara felt the burner heave up in her hands, the shot hitting a drone in front of the queen, the blast echoed by Jess and then Noguchi as they fired—

—oh fuck what a mess—

—and they were falling back, Lara firing again, swinging the weapon over to the charging Hunters, the bugs shrieking, Noguchi screaming words she couldn't hear. Noguchi's alien soldiers had flown into the group of drones, stabbing and howling, at least two of them firing burners of their own.

Lara stumbled, firing, hitting another of the bugs as it threw itself in front of its queen, dozens of drones pouring out of the jungle like a plague, surrounding their mother and lunging for both the Hunters and their own tiny group.

Noguchi spun and fired, fired, the strobing explo-sions of her burner taking out bug and Hunter alike. Jess shouted something and a blast from a Hunter's weapon blew past Lara close enough for her to feel its heat, deck shrapnel slapping at her lower back from the explosion. Lara swung her burner, found the warrior, and watched its masked head fly apart, the huge body hesitating headless in the air before crumpling—

—and another Hunter was scooping up the burner, firing it in their direction as a drone flew at him, claw-ing him to the ground, its grinning skull jaws tearing into his hidden flesh.

The queen continued her bursts of screams, all but hidden by a mass of her minions, bugs jumping into battle as more came out of the dark, running at the Hunters, the Hunters dancing and cutting like samu-rai—and both alien groups slowly, steadily, gaining ground on the three humans.

Lara didn't think about it, couldn't, aiming and fir-ing and aiming again, the bugs blasted into acid-splash as the Hunters dodged and fought and somehow man-aged not to die—

—CLICK CLICK CLICK—

—and Lara heard Noguchi's weapon go dry, even over the screams and explosions, the sound as chilling and terrible as the queen's fury. Lara stepped forward, jabbing her burner at Noguchi as the woman dropped the dead one, taking hers—

—and in the half second that Noguchi wasn't fir-ing, the tide of the slaughter drew closer. Lara fumbled for her handgun,not enough, they'll all go dry, we're dead.

They continued to back away but there was no de-nying that it was a matter of minutes, seconds before they were overrun. To turn and flee was certain death, by burner or by bug, and Lara found a Hunter's masked face and fired, thebam bam bam of the semi adding a tempo to the bloody battle, firing because it was that or give up—

—and suddenly, so suddenly that Lara didn't un-derstand for a moment what was happening, Hunters

and drones alike began to collapse, the sound of rapid fire dull thunder to her ringing ears. There was a stut-tering light washing across the falling bodies, across all of them. It was the muzzle flash of a pulse rifle, M41 or '56, and Lara's uncomprehending gaze followed the flashing bursts to their source, to their right and be-hind—

—and saw Max. Standing in the midst of the ocean of debris, small fires licking at the suit's giant legs, bright tongues against the matte orange of its armored body.

Max took a step toward them, still firing," one mighty, quad-tread foot crunching down through a layer of broken station, its left arm sending a constant stream of armor-piercing death into the fray.

"Ellis," she whispered, the sound lost in the rain of bullets and the queen's screaming retreat, her brood swarming around her like a living veil. The Hunters, too, melted back into the jungle, leaving their fallen be-hind, the crush of bodies smoking from the wash of drone blood.

Max continued to fire and Lara felt Jess's hand on

her arm, pulling at her, dragging her back behind their shield of docking where Noguchi stood, her calm fi-nally broken; she'd removed her mask and stared wide-eyed at the monster robot that had stepped into the alien war, not understanding.

They'd found their friend. They'd found Ellis, and Noguchi didn't know yet what the interface meant for the man inside, but Lara felt a wrenching sadness sweep over her. Ellis was with Max again.

25

There were fourteen drones and a single queen, nine unidentified life-forms and three humans. Max calculated the distance between all of them and chose pulse over fire, Ellis struggling to trans-late the difference in the glowing green forms. Max had been designed to find an implant signal in the desig-nated—

—Teape he was the designated—

—life-form and cut out firing before extermination could occur, destroying everything in its single-minded path to the beacon. These humans had no implants, and Max's mind had no signal urging it on. It was up to Ellis to manipulate the program, and his influence wasn't constant, his consciousness unstable; there was distant pain, distant understanding of body, radical fluctuations in awareness. Max did not know what these things meant, and it was all Ellis could do to hold on.

Max fired, sweeping in a contained pattern across the twenty-four alien objects that clustered in front of

its sensors, closest at 17.3 meters, secondary liquid ex-pulsion maximum two meters—

—add spray at its worst, can't let it reach the three forms because—

Because Ellis realized that this was what had been designated, what he had wanted at some prior in-stance,these are Lara and Jess and. He pushed into the realm of sensory feed, his mind reaching for the stats and commands, finding them easily. Getting them to Max was harder, Ellis's elastic, human thoughts com-plicating the process.

Separate objects at 7. 73 8.4 active/cease.

Max continued to fire, the direction correlated, and Ellis was pleased—until a wave of dark slid through him, temporarily removing him from the whole. After some indeterminate time, he was with Max again. With Max's help, he estimated the loss of awareness to be no more than two seconds and no less than one.

Body mind is reacting, must not fight it but stay here, stay with Max.Max wouldn't work without him but he knew that he was being drained, that some vital part of Ellis was being used up. This was unavoidable, he ac-cepted it—but he couldn't let the loss stop them from their purpose, and he didn't know how long he could go on.

The area had been cleared of all but the three ob-jects he'd activated the cutoff for; Max continued to fire into the lines of the jungle, its sensors finding the forms of four figures previously identified as the not-drones—

—like that one on the deck, they're hiding, watching, preparing. Badguys.

Max accepted the identification. It sent thirty-two more rounds through the walls of shifting green, three of the badguys falling, the fourth retreating out of sen-sory range. Max discontinued its strike, waiting, not prepared to move without some input from Ellis.

One of the humans approached. Ellis struggled to the surface, wanting to be there for the interaction, needing to be; Max would not respond.

ellis, ellis are you

He pushed harder, the pain sharpening, becoming unpleasant. He pushed anyway, knowing that he rec-ognized the voice, the cool and soothing voice that he had known many times before. He heard her, and heard the others speaking at the same time behind her, their voices softer. Max sorted through each vocal pat-tern and fed Ellis all three simultaneously, Ellis work-ing through them as quickly as he could.

"Ellis? Brian? Can you speak? It's Lara, it's Kather-ine Lara—"

Lara!

"Your friend is inside a robot?" Small female, un-known.

"Not a robot. That's a MAX, Mobile Assault Exo-Warrior."Stupid kid, I can't believe he'd do this to himself. Jess, angry and worried, faded out like a wave in the abyss.

Lara,Ellis said or thought, he knew he should say more but couldn't find the strength. The darkness tried to take over again, but he held on, Lara was speaking and he wanted very much to tell her that he was okay, that it wasn't a mistake.

we're going to help you don't worry it's okay, brian, we'll get you out of there now No. She didn't understand.

With a supreme force of will, Ellis found his voice. It was as distant and meaningless as his body, but he

bent it to his will, meaning to make them understand. Max didn't understand, but Ellis had discovered that Max didn't necessarily need to understand everything.

"If you—survive you need me no argument Lara, Jess."

The trio of shapes held still, silent, and Ellis wasn't sure if they'd heard him, even as Max told him that his voice had registered in an audible range. It was Jess who spoke finally, and Ellis knew that he was trying not to cry. Max knew that the object was 1.1 meters distant.

"Okay, kid. This is Machiko Noguchi, she's a friend now. We're going to follow her to a ship and go home., so just hang on for a while, okay? We're going home."

Max requested data. Ellis explained that there was to be movement, the sound of words outside becoming sounds, Ellis moving back again so that Max could be strong for all of them.

Noguchi was glad that Lara and Jess agreed to their friend's decision, whether or not it was wisest for his health. The queen had escaped theShell, she'd seen the link of chain still hanging from her ebony headdress, and knew now that she'd been a fool to believe that a simple crash could kill the bug mother.

And does she recognize me as the Hunters did? As the be-ing who trapped her?No one knew enough about the species to say what a queen could or couldn't do, but she was surely smart enough. And if the queen actually understood who she was, it meant Noguchi was marked by two alien species as enemy, which meant that having the MAX with them bolstered their chances from none to slim.

And if I wasn't here at all, what would the chances be then?

Lara stood next to the MAX, looking up into the squared face of the suit, the smoking glow from the sta-tion fire softening the robot's sharp angles. It was easily three, three and a half meters tall and a meter across at its widest, humanoid, the numbers 09 in scuffed white on its thickly plated torso. It looked like a bodybuilder made from giant metal blocks, indestructible—but the look on Lara's face suggested that the man inside was anything but.

"The suit's constructed to interface with a surgical implant," Jess said softly. He'd hung back, standing with Noguchi near the crushed deck where they'd found cover. "Ellis doesn't have one. He went into Max back on that station, saved our lives, but it almost killed him."

Jess shook his head, a mix of sadness and respect in his deep, exhausted voice. "We should have known. Lara and I, we thought he was just sick, recovering, you know? But it seems like he got it in his head that this was all he could do to help."

Noguchi nodded slowly, feeling some small con-nection to Ellis, thinking that bravery and stupidity were often closely linkedLike me, coming here, so fired up to break with the Hunters and avenge my honor that I didn't even consider what my presence could mean to these people. At least Ellis had only risked himself; she'd risked all of them.

Noguchi walked toward Lara and "Max," Jess fol-lowing. They needed to talk. When they were all to-gether, she took a deep breath and dived in.

"The Hunters want my head," she said. "If they haven't already called off their Hunt to search for me, they're doing it now. The good thing is, they have rules, and I've been with them long enough to have some idea of what they are—but the queen doesn't, and she may want me even worse than they do. I

think if we split up, meet at the transport—"

Lara cut her off, frowning sharply. "No. We stick together."

"They don'twant you," Noguchi said patiently. "And you've got—Ellis to help you get to the ship. Two klicks west, that's the last signal reading—one of you has pilot training, right?"

Lara nodded. "Yes, but I don't—"

"The controls are intuitive," Noguchi said. "Except you push on the collective to gain altitude, and pull back to descend. I can't explain the navigational sys-tem, but you'll be able to get a safe distance away if I don't make it."

"No offense, but that's bullshit," Jess said angrily. "We're not splitting up, okay? You risked your life to get here, to get to us—"

"—and you're willing to risk yours to return the favor?" Noguchi snapped.

Jess and Lara were both silent for a beat, Ellis-Max standing mute and unmoving, only the hissing pops of the ebbing fire to be heard—and then Jess grinned, a tired, sweet smile.

"Well, yeah. Pretty much," he said, and Lara nod-ded.

Noguchi wanted to protest, but realized that they'd decided—and that in their position, she would do the same. The realization didn't lessen the feelings of warmth and gratitude that filled her; whatever hap-pened, she knew now that she'd made the right choice.

My own kind.

"Let's go, then," she said, slipping on her mask and turning away, relieved that she could cover her face. She wasn't ashamed of her tears, but now wasn't the time for emotion; if these good people meant to stay with her, they were going to have to be ready for any-thing.

They moved into the wooded jungle, Noguchi in the lead, Ellis bringing up the rear. Jess stumbled along be-hind Lara, aching and bone weary, but with enough determination to hold himself together. Finding Ellis— or Ellis finding them—had provided Jess with another reason to keep going; he owed Ellis, and the kid had put his life on the line to help them. Again.

We gotta get him out of Max, ASAP. For as shitty as I feel, I didn't lobotomize myself. And if he could do that for us, I can at least get my sorry ass through a couple klicks ofjungle.

They walked in silence, or as much as they could manage with a ton-plus of metal stomping behind them. The going wasn't too bad, although there was a lot of climbing over rotting logs and skirting trees, slowing them up. It would have been easier to let Max go first, clear them a path, but Lara had pointed out that he'd be more effective, better able to sense move-ment to either side, if he stayed in back. Ellis seemed to understand, although he'd said nothing when they'd

explained it to them. Jess was afraid for him—the fear mixed with guilt, that they hadn't pulled him out of Max immediately.

He's right, though, we need him . The Hunters had been something to see, and Jess didn't know that

defeating an alien queen was even possible without the kind of firepower Max possessed.

They'd just reached a clearing, a grassy area that Noguchi started to edge around, when Ellis stopped, the rumbling crunch of his steps cut off. They all froze, Jess feeling new fear for the kid, wondering if this was it, not even halfway to the alien transport. Ellis's weak, stuttering voice let Jess breathe again, but inspired a .different kind of fear.

"Sssomeone coming," Ellis said, and raised both arms, aiming one o'clock.

Noguchi had already dropped into a crouch, weapon ready, and Jess and Lara followed suit, new adrenaline humming through his body as thoughts raced through his mind.

Hunter or drone, how many burner shots can Max take? The suit's solid but it wasn't built for those and what if this is a distraction, a trap—

Jess clamped down, had to keep his shit wired. He held the burner and waited. Noguchi held one of her hands up in a fist and twisted it back and forth; Jess didn't know the signal, but she seemed to realize that, whispering back at them a second later.

"Get ready."

A crashing, rustling sound, whatever it was getting closer, coming through the trees from across the small clearing. It was big,could be anything—

The shadowy figure stepped out into the starlight a second later and Jess almost fired, there was something wrong with it, the shape of its head strange, its torso deformed—

"Oh, God," Lara whispered, and Jess saw what it was, and felt a kind of vindication rise up inside, feelings of gratification that he recognized as petty and mean. And deeply satisfying.

It was Nirasawa, his face mutilated, the now obvi-ous synthetic skin hanging in melted shreds from an exposed carbon-fiber cheekbone. And he was carrying Lucas Briggs, the exec's limp body in his arms, a face-hugger wrapped tightly around the bastard's head.

26

Don't shoot," Nirasawa said, a thick, wet quality to his voice, as if he were speaking through a mouthful of soup. He stepped toward them, holding out Briggs's body as if it were some token of surrender. What was left of the synthetic's face was held in an expression of unhappiness, almost sorrow.

An android. Thank God Keene wasn't, we never would have made it off that shuttle . . .

Lara shook her head. Considering where they were now, what Ellis had done to himself, maybe she shouldn't be so thankful.

Nirasawa came closer and Lara stood up, Jess and Noguchi following suit, though neither of them low-ered their weapons. Lara tucked hers into her belt, stepping toward the damaged android. Ellis was the robotics expert, but she knew enough about synth pro-gramming to know that it was unlikely this was

some trick. Synthetics didn't generally work that way, they had to be directed to be misleading, and it was obvious that Briggs wasn't capable of redesigning a program, not at the moment.

Nirasawa looked terrible, the right side of his face clawed to ribbons. The right eye had drooled out of its socket, lying across the ruptured mass of his cheek in a seeping, oozing bath of creamy lubricant. The white liq-uid had almost completely covered the front of his suit, and part of Briggs's. He looked at Lara with his good eye and she saw that his unhappiness was real, or as real as his synthesized emotional makeup would allow.

"Please, you must help Mr. Briggs," he gurgled.

Lara sighed, a little surprised at her feeling of pity for the bodyguard, although she supposed she knew where it came from. It wasn'this fault that he'd been created to protect assholes like Briggs; it was probably his primary function, and with Briggs as good as dead, Nirasawa was now obsolete.

"Couldn't happen to a nicer guy," Jess muttered, stepping forward to join them. Noguchi stood watch, scanning the trees, Max as still as a statue. Lara hoped he was resting, or at least not in any pain.

"When I tried to pull it off of him, he started to choke," Nirasawa said. "I'm afraid that part of my con-tingency awareness has been damaged. I don't know what to do."

Jess leaned down, reaching out to tap at the shell of the embryo carrier. It wobbled, and Lara saw its tail slide from around Briggs's neck, loosening. Jess put his burner down and grabbed two of its multijointed legs with each hand, the face-hugger coming away easily. A thin fluid dribbled out of Briggs's slack mouth; still un-conscious, he moaned, turning his head as Jess dropped the dead carrier into the grass.

"Too late," Lara said, unable to muster any sympa-thy for the executive. Jess was right—if anyone de-served such a death, it was Lucas Briggs.

Nirasawa blinked, his unsocketed eye twitching on his face with a tiny wet smacking noise. "It is my job to protect him."

Even Jess seemed to feel bad for the synthetic. "Look, your boss is beyond help," he said. "He's been

implanted with a parasitic embryo that will kill him. There's nothing that anyone can do, and probably nothing you could have done to stop it. You'll have to—"

"Quiet,"Noguchi whispered, and Lara tensed, pull-ing her nine-millimeter, glancing back to see that Ellis had both of Max's arms raised again. Jess scooped up his burner and stepped closer to Lara.

Silence for a moment—and then there was the faintest sound of movement in the trees ahead of them, a sound like some stealthy creature might make, sliding through the dark. Lara saw a branch move, then an-other, meters away, but couldn't see what was making them rustle.

Noguchi took off her mask and dropped it, speak-ing softly, her shoulders set, her gaze unwavering.

"We're splitting up," she said, and Lara knew from the sound of her voice that this time, there wasn't go-ing to be any discussion.

Five Hunters stepped out from the cover of the jungle, cloaked, armed only with blades. When Noguchi saw who was with them, she understood, not for the first time, that there were some fates that couldn't be avoided. Shouldn't be.

"We're splitting up," Noguchi said, dropping her burner next to her mask. If they'd been armed with heavier weapons, she probably would have passed— but as it was, the situation felt too much like an oppor-tunity, the circumstances too perfect for coincidence.

There was a Blooded she didn't know, three nov-ices—and Shorty. When they saw her throw her weapon down, Shorty clattered to his Leader, Noguchi too far away to hear the exchange, but knowing what it was about all the same.

Challenge. Honor.

Ellis would see Jess and Lara to the ship, they'd be fine . . . except there was the problem of the rest of the Hunters. Noguchi felt a twinge of doubt, evaluating

the group. They'd let her fight Shorty, but would kill her when it was over, assuming she survived. Hunters loved an honor match, but they wouldn't let her walk away afterward.

Unless . . .

"Nirasawa," she said, still watching the Hunters, watching as another novice took Shorty's blade from him, "it's too late for you to help your master . . . but if there's any part of your programming that under-stands revenge, now's the time to access it. These are the beings responsible for his condition."

The Hunters uncloaked, stepping farther away from the backdrop ofjungle. Shorty took off his mask, throwing it aside, and the Hunters began to trill to one another, clicking and clattering excitedly.

"I understand," Nirasawa said, and Noguchi glanced back to see that he'd put his master down, lay-ing him gently in the grass.

"The rest of you, get to the ship," Noguchi said. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Machiko . . ." Lara started, but Noguchi shook her head. There wasn't anything that she or Jess could say that would change her mind.

"I have unfinished business here," she said grimly, and started across the clearing, Nirasawa falling in be-hind her. Perhaps it was lunacy, perhaps she would only get herself killed, fighting for an integrity that wasn't even in question—but perhaps, after all this time, she'd finally grasped the Hunter's way.

It's about doing what you have to do, regardless of the outcome. And it's about killing your enemy, because he doesn't understand how only the strong have a right to honor.

With a scream of undisguised glee, Shorty stepped out to meet her.

Ellis understood enough of what was happening to know that Max shouldn't kill the creatures— —badguys five object—

—so they watched without acting, as the small woman and the inorganic moved away, each step add-ing to the numbers that ran across Ellis's eyes, distance and speed. Ellis thought that he might be bleeding; Max didn't register a change in fluids, but there was enough wrong with Max that Ellis decided

to abstain from deciding.

we have to go now, ellis, can you hear

ellis, can you

help me pick him up

Max looked down at their friends, not sure who had spoken, Ellis pleased by the sounds of their voices. what are you doing, you said yourself that briggs is be-yond help I'll explain later ellis, help me

Jess. Jess wanted their help. He had crouched next to the unmoving human, touching him, trying to move him. Ellis explained to Max what Jess wanted and Max took a step forward, knees bending, the glowing plain of the ground line rising in front of their eyes. Ellis felt his body moving within, leaning over, and felt warmth against skin, wet motion across his lips.

Bleeding, I am bleeding.

Jess pushed the human into the crook of Max's right arm and they stood up, 82.72 kilos heavier than before. Max made adjustments for the difference, tak-ing up enough calculation space that Ellis couldn't make out any more words.

Both humans,Zara, Jess, made sounds, speaking, and Ellis understood the meaning if not what they said; it was time to go.

Max and Ellis stepped forward, avoiding the dis-traction that was taking place nine meters away, between the small woman and the nonhuman bad-guys. From the sharp sounds and quick movements, they decided it was highly probable that the interaction was violent.

Ellis was glad to be leaving; he was getting tired, and thought that he might like to sleep soon.

27

Nirasawa's capacity for retal-iatory action was well mapped and undamaged, a self-contained 3 LCerabyte module that had been inte-grated into his reasoning after his assignment to Mr. Briggs. The humans that he'd recognized, Katherine Lara and Martin Jess, had been telling the truth, as had the woman Lara had called "Machiko." No pupil dila-tion, no change in respiration; Mr. Briggs would not survive.

Protecting Mr. Briggs was no longer his primary function, which meant that he had to report back to his Weyland/Yutani AI Assignment Officer as soon as he could find a transmitter—and he now had the option to physically incapacitate the perpetrators of Mr. Briggs's inevitable death. The woman Machiko started for the group of five alien/organics and Nirasawa followed, the stimuli from the tapped module flooding his driver.

"Nirasawa, the small one and I will engage," Machiko said as she walked, and flexed her right arm. A pair of sharpened knives projected from the back of her wrist with a click, snapping into place. "The others

may wish to involve themselves in our fight. If you choose to keep them from interfering, you will cause them psychological damage."

Nirasawa didn't respond, but decided that inflicting more than just physical injury was appealing. His mod-ule had been designed so that associates of a damaged or dead consumer could feel that some justice had been served; it did not recommend any one method of reci-procity over any other, but did suggest that a combina-tion of methods was highly effective.

The members of the alien group were agitated, call-ing out in a language Nirasawa did not know, making threatening gestures as he and Machiko neared. From his previous interaction on the Bunda station platform, Nirasawa knew that they were physically much stronger than humans, but didn't think it necessary to tell the woman; he deduced it likely that she already knew. Machiko moved ahead of him, stopping two me-ters from the smallest of the screaming alien beings and striking a fighting pose.

The short alien screamed again, leaping forward. When the woman dodged to avoid his attack, one of the watching creatures swiped at her with the same kind of apparatus that she wore, two pointed blades at the back of his clawed fist.

Nirasawa moved. As Machiko darted away from the second assailant, he reached forward and grabbed its shoulder, jerking it off-balance. A third alien lunged for Nirasawa with a bladed staff, damaging the silicone colloid that served as his tricep. Nirasawa still had a grip on the second attacker's shoulder. He broke it, then turned his attention to the blade carrier, aware that all four beings had now surrounded him. The woman would have her engagement with the small one.

Nirasawa was satisfied that the module was in full working order.

Noguchi saw that another novice was preparing to at-tack even as Shorty leapt for her. It was a feint, a

classic, the second Hunter ready to skewer her as she blocked Shorty's wild lunge, designed only to

intimi-date her into dodging.

Pathetic.

She went with it, feinting her own dodge right, ducking well beneath the untrained swipe of Shorty's second and shifting her weight back to the left. She came up with her wrist blades, the tips of them catch-ing the plate armor at Shorty's groin.

Shorty wheeled backwards, tusks going wide, al-though the blades didn't pierce flesh. Noguchi followed through, not willing to overbalance, pulling herself back up into a defensive crouch.

The screams of the others told her that Nirasawa was busy, but she didn't look away from Shorty, fully aware that one of them wouldn't be walking away from this one. Shorty knew it, too, she could see it in the shine of his hateful gaze, in the way it flickered toward his backup.

They're busy, you blustering crab. You're all mine.

"Come and get it," she sneered, grinning tightly."Pauk-de 'aseigan!"

She'd either called him a fucking servant or a ser-vant fucker, she wasn't sure. All that mattered was that

it had the desired effect, goading him to reckless action.

Screaming with raw fury, Shorty jumped, swiping his blades down in an arc, all of his powerful bulk be-hind the violent move—

—and Noguchi dropped, one hand behind her, supporting her weight as she delivered a solid kick to his shin. Shorty rocked with the blow, using it, con-tinuing his downward swipe as he fell—

—and Noguchi rolled to the side, Shorty's blades missing her head by centimeters. With his weight be-hind them, the shining knives were buried in the ground, Shorty on his side, facing her as he struggled to pull them free.

Now!

Noguchi lashed out with her right hand, so concentrated on the killing strike, already seeing the metal dripping with green from his slashed throat—

—that she didn't see his knee coming up until it made contact, slamming into the front of her left thigh hard enough to send shock pulses of agony through her body.

Noguchi was shoved back, too far for her knives to reach his spotted throat. She stumbled to her feet, favoring her injury as Shorty managed to free his wrist and get up.

She stood in defense, ready for his next lunge—but he mirrored her action. Warily, they watched each other, gazes locked, the screams of pain and fury from the other Hunters distant and unimportant.

Kill them all, android. Let this stay between us.

The eyes would give it away, she'd see him look before he leapt—but it seemed that Shorty had finally learned not to go running into a fight with his betters. Neither moved, both waiting for the opening that would end it, once and for all.

Lara and Jess stayed close to Max, Ellis seeming to un-derstand that they wanted to head west, keeping to a reasonably straight line. They were able to move faster than before, Max tearing a path through the abundant growth, the smell of sap and cut plants surrounding them as the sound of Noguchi's battle fell behind.

Briggs's body was folded over the elbow joint of Max's right arm, Ellis keeping the arm stable as he moved so that the impregnated Briggs wouldn't fall off. The exec's arms and legs were slapped at by weeds and broken tree limbs, which was fine by Jess; Briggs's comfort wasn't high on his list of needs. Besides, he was unconscious. They probably wouldn't be able to use him at all, but Jess thought that having a still-breathing suit in tow might turn out to be extremely handy.

He won't give birth for another couple hours, at least, plenty of time in case—

"Jess, listen," Lara said, and stopped, tilting her head, her face pale as milk. Ellis took one more crash-ing step and did the same, turning statue.

Jess listened. He heard jungle sounds, night sounds—ttherhee-rhee-rhee of some cicada relative, a wind in the treetops high above, the scuttling rasps un-derfoot of animals too small to move the leaves. They held in place for a full minute, and Jess didn't hear anything unexpected.

"I heard something moving," Lara said, chewing at her lower lip. "I'm sure."

If Lara was sure, than there was something to it. Jess moved closer to Ellis, searching the shadow-flecked trees for darker things.

"Ellis, do you see anything?"

Ellis didn't respond. Jess shot a glance at Lara, saw the same worry on her face. The kid hadn't spoken since alerting them to Nirasawa's approach; he seemed to comprehend what they wanted, but that he wouldn't talk, even to answer them, was unnerving.

What's going on in there, Ellis?

Max looked dead. Each time it stopped walking, Jess had to wonder if it would start again, the giant body turning into an object that seemed incapable of life.

"I guess—" Lara started, and then Ellis was mov-ing.

It happened fast, Max's left arm swiveling back and up, directed into the dark and broken trail behind them. There was apuh of sound, of displaced air,gre-nade—

—and a sharp pop, and a dazzling light. The electric glow of white phosphorous hissed up from the burning filler some fifteen meters back, a tremendous billow of smoke pluming into the air from the M60—

—and before Jess could feel more than a second's confusion, he saw the silhouettes in front of the rising sheet of white, and heard the screech of the one that

was dancing through the flame. He saw two others, standing sharply outlined by the sizzling light. Hunters. There was the ripping sound of a burner, barely au-dible over the dying screams of the Hunter on fire—

—and the blast hit Max in the back, and then Jess and Lara were both firing, the burner jumping in Jess's hands, the crack of Lara's semi blending into the harsh rattle from Max's pulse rifle.

Brrrp-BOOM,the flash from Jess's burner slammed into the chest of one of them, throwing it backwards into the rising incendiary flame. There was a clattering howl, terrible, and Jess brought the weapon around to the second—

—and its body was jumping, convulsing with the hammer of bullets that pounded it all the way down, Lara and Max both shooting, its muscular form crash-ing to the ground.

Max ceased firing. Jess and Lara both stopped, scanning for further movement—and all was quiet, only the hiss of the white-turning-orange flames as they ate slowly through the surrounding brush. If there were any more Hunters in the area, they'd decided not to join the fight; it was over, at least for the moment.

"Unh," Max whispered, and Jess felt his heart pounding in delayed reaction, felt renewed fear for the kid as he and Lara both turned to inspect the damage.

The black, smoking splotch on Max's back was too hot to touch; Lara ripped a strip of cloth from the bot-tom of her shirt and balled it up, wiping it across the wide and ragged mark. The hit didn't seem to have penetrated the armor, but it had eaten through the protective acid-and heat-resist coating,he could be boil-ing alive in there—

"Ellis! Brian, are you hurt? Can you talk?" Lara asked, her voice right on the edge of panic.

Nothing—except a soft, unconscious groan from Briggs, still draped over Max's flamethrower arm. Amazingly, he hadn't been injured.

"Kidplease," Jess said, aching inside as well as out. "Say you're all right, sayanything."

"Any, thing," Max breathed, and Lara laughed, the sharp sound close to a sob. Jess swallowed, hard—and faced front again, wanting this endless, painful night to be over with.

"Go, let's go," he said, taking a step forward, then two—and then Max raised one massive metal leg and put it back down, following, and Lara joined them.

Almost over, almostJess thought, and was still work-ing to believe that a half klick later when they heard the trumpeting calls of at least a dozen approaching drones.

28

Three of the four beings were dead or disabled, but Nirasawa had suffered consider-able damage in the effort. Seven major latchment points between musculature and skeleton had been severed through his back and left side, seriously inca-pacitating the feedback systems that kept him stable. Overall electrical stim received for his limb colloids was down 37 percent—and the casing for his hydrogen fuel cell had been pierced, which, if further damaged, would very likely relieve him of all processing capabil-ity. He would become inert; he would cease.

Studying the stance of the last viable opponent, Nirasawa could see that the being's injuries were also significant. From the labored breathing to the unrelia-bility and tissue damage of its right leg, Nirasawa thought that it would die soon without medical atten-tion. Still, it continued to present itself as an opponent, and Nirasawa meant to alter its status. The woman had not finished her engagement with the being she fought, and Nirasawa wanted to aid her in destroying the last of Mr. Briggs's killers.

The ailing creature stepped forward, jabbing its staff at Nirasawa. Nirasawa pushed the blade aside, moving in, bringing his right arm up and delivering a blow to the alien's probable ribs. Several snapped.

The creature clattered loudly in its own language, a pale green blood washing from its mouth—and its damaged leg crumpled. The being fell, gasping, and Nirasawa bent down, reaching for its throat—

—and the creature, with some final burst of strength, thrust its staff deep into Nirasawa's abdomen.

The fuel cell itself was punctured. Nirasawa felt the energy shut down, first to his legs. He collapsed on top of the gasping creature, driving his right elbow into its neck, hearing the wet collapse of its airway.

Nirasawa's arms went next. Then the pump of lu-bricant faltered, the stability and latchment systems re-leasing a short and final jolt of stim through his immobile limbs. He could no longer move.

Nirasawa's one functioning eye saw the stars in the Bunda sky, and then that, too, ceased to operate. There was a flush of nonsequential numbers in the dark—and then Nirasawa was no more.

Noguchi heard the dying call of the Blooded Hunter, a trilled greeting to the Black Warrior, a final shuffle of movement—and then nothing. Nirasawa had fallen, and the other Hunters were dead.

Just you and me now.

Shorty had managed one glancing blow to her side, and she had raked his right arm with the blades, but neither had gained the advantage. They continued their circling appraisal of one another, Noguchi know-ing that Shorty wouldn't be able to hold out for much longer. He was yautja, and young; she'd seen Blooded maintain a defense, but Shorty would eventually feel that he was cowardly for not attacking. She was betting on it.

And if you 're wrong? This could go on, and other Hunt-ers will come, and your victory will mean nothing . . .

Noguchi felt the seconds tick by like minutes, her every muscle tensed, watchful for his next move. He hadn't responded to further taunting; she'd called him small and weak, she'd stumbled through a few prov-erbs about having no honor. If she could just find something that would re-ignite his fury, push him into another reckless act ...

Think!The names he'd called her in the past, the things he'd said in the hope of hurting her. Woman, human, alien—nothing there, nothing that had come across as more than a mild slight.

Except—he thought they were horrible slurs. The wry worst he could come up with . . .

She had it. Noguchi knew what to say. She ran through the words in her head, preparing herself for his assault as she decided on her counterstrike.

"Chi'-dte ooman-di,"Noguchi said. "Lou'-dte Dahdtoudi kalei!"

Shorty flew at her as the last word left her mouth, his face shocked and sick with rage, his blades swinging wildly.

Noguchi was already in motion, leaping away from the pitiful strike, jumping—

—and landing a solid kick to the side of his right knee, where she'd kicked him in their match on the Shell, where he should still be hurting. Shorty howled, falling to the ground, instantly pushing himself off and coming for her—

—and she slashed, the diamond-sharp wrist blades melting through his forearm. Blood spouted up as his right hand folded, hanging from cut bone and sliced flesh by the wet sinewy tendons, the only thing still connecting his claws to his arm.

Shorty screamed again, in agony, grabbing at the pounding flow from his wrist and stumbling at her. Un-able to comprehend that he'd lost.

"You're not Hunter!" Noguchi shouted as she side-stepped his clumsy attempt, not caring if he understood. "1 am, and I'm better at it than any of you arrogant, bullyingchildren*."

Shorty crashed into the dirt, still hugging his use-less arm, trilling in pain and denial. Noguchi stood over him, feeling the beat of her human heart, realizing how much time she'd wasted caring about what the Hunters believed—and understanding that she was free from them, that her human spirit had conquered.

With the help of a few carefully chosen words . . .

She'd told Shorty that he loved human women, and that he obviously wanted to father her children. How wonderful, that it was his own conceit and intol-erance that had cost him the battle. How typical.

How veryyautja.

Noguchi stared down at the suffering Hunter for a moment longer, then knelt by him, staring into his spiteful, hurting face.

"Human,"he spat, and Noguchi nodded, not at all surprised that he could speak the word clearly.

"That's right," she said, and plunged her wrist blades into his throat. She watched his eyes, watched the spark of life leaving him, feeling only triumph.

A moment later, he was dead. Noguchi stood up, flicking the hot blood from her blades and retracting them, looking around at the body-littered clearing. Nirasawa was gone, ruined, but he'd managed to take out four Hunters first. Three had been unBlooded, but the fourth had surely been a challenge, the etched star shape on his brow marking him warrior.

Noguchi reached up and touched her own mark, thinking of Broken Tusk, wondering if he would have approved the things she'd done. She was still proud to wear his symbol, and thought that he would have un-derstood—but it occurred to her that it didn't particu-larly matter whether or not he would have supported her actions. He wasn't there—and as trite as it seemed, she knew that it was her opinion and hers only that mattered. It had always been that way, but she'd for-gotten for a while.

Noguchi turned away, looking for her burner. She had a ship to catch.

Lara heard the bugs coming through the jungle and her heart sank. So close, they had to be less than half a kilometer from the Hunter transport, and she simply didn't know how much longer she could go on. Max was faltering, his steps slowing, and Jess had tripped and fallen twice since their encounter with the Hunt-ers. They'd been through so much, the space station, Briggs, facing death again and again through all of it—

—and Jess is about to collapse, and Ellis could very well die any moment, and I'm so, sotired—

Lara gritted her teeth, forcing the thoughts away. Theywere close, and she'd faced bugs before. It was still very dark—although it had to be early morning by now—but drones made more than enough noise to target. She was down to her last few rounds, but she was a good shot, she knew she could make them count.

Ellis may not be able to help, but Jess will hang on . . .Whether or not he could aim very well anymore wasn't something she wanted to consider, but she stepped closer to him, both of them standing close to Max. If he couldn't do it, she'd take the burner when she ran out of bullets.

They were getting closer, at least ten, fifteen of them, the sounds of their approach violent and wild, trees snapping, their chittering shrieks growing louder.

"Ten o'clock," Jess said, and Lara nodded—

—and then Ellis spoke, his shaky voice quiet and small.

"Stay back we kill," he said, and Max's arms both locked forward, Briggs's body sliding to the ground in a heap.

Before Lara could consider the implications of "we," the first drone tore into the open, ten meters

away. And Max took one step forward and became death, the world catching fire at his touch.

Maxellis saw the first break cover and opened up, no longer certain of the best kill method, no longer able to mark an exact distance. They fired everything, deciding in waves of red-and-black awareness that a solid cur-tain of defense would probably work.

Flame erupted from Maxellis's right hand, a stream of napthal that stretched to meet the XT, its bounding form halting, screaming, turning in circles as its fluids heated and expanded. Its exoskeleton burst, and Max-ellis were already working the next moving forms, finding them, sending HEAP and incendiary grenades into the midst of the tumbling bodies.

—we kill and thirteen more—

Part of Maxellis had been injured by heat, when there had still been a separation. The fusion had been necessary for the good of the whole, although elements of both halves had been lost. There was no pain, but very little clarity, either, the entity's self-awareness muddled, incomplete.

Maxellis did not think of this as they sent two full cartridges of rounds into the jungle, two hundred armor-piercers that tore through legs and arms, mists of drone blood flying, exo shrapnel from the exploding bodies slamming into other bodies. The napthal contin-ued to stream across the congregation, burning to death those that didn't fall right away.

In less than two minutes, it was over. The only movement in the burning was the burning itself, smoke and flame rising and twisting up, finding new things to burn.

The Lara and Jess were speaking, but Maxellis's ca-pacity for speech was extremely limited, their under-standing of language reduced to fundamentals.

We go now assigned parcel—

The body. Maxellis turned and picked it up, doing

as little damage as they could to the fragile flesh. Then they turned and moved ahead, in the direction that they had been going since before the meld.

In a matter of moments, they had reached the des-tination.

Noguchi ran through the dark, aware that time was short. She'd heard the explosions only minutes after leaving her battlefield, and knew that the Hunters would head for the sight and sound of action. It was surely that suit, Max, and she hoped that the firefight meant Lara and Jess were still alive, that Ellis was protecting them.

The trees whipped past, Noguchi concentrating on keeping balanced, on skirting obstacles and keeping her speed up. She didn't want to be left behind; her fight on Bunda was over, and she was more than ready to be away from the Hunt.

And the Hunters, who wouldn't mind at all if I missed my flight. Noguchi picked up speed, moving faster.

The Hunter transport was twice as big as theNemesis shuttle, and looked something like a water pitcher ly-ing on its side, a rounded body tapering at the neck. Jess wouldn't particularly care if it looked like a giant dog turd; he'd never been so happy to see anything.

The ship had set down in an angled clearing, near the top of a gently sloping hill, the jungle they stepped out of at the bottom. The sky seemed lighter, perhaps because of the open space, or maybe because the end-less night was actually ending; they moved into the pale light away from the trees, Jess grateful to get out of the secretive dark.

At least we'll see the next deadly thing coming... He considered crossing his fingers but thought it might be his undoing, the final exertion that would knock him out cold. He wouldn't be good for much longer.

Together, he and Lara struggled to keep up with the Max as it marched easily to the ship, holding Briggs with both arms. Throughout all of it, Briggs still hadn't come out of his postimplant coma. Jess knew that they'd have to leave the exec behind; he'd thought that they could use him if they ran into any Company peo-ple, but—

"I'll see about the controls," Lara gasped, breaking into his wandering thoughts as they neared the vehicle. "You get Ellis out of that thing."

Jess nodded, suddenly feeling more vulnerable than he had in the wooded jungle. He was afraid of what he would find when he opened the suit. Ellis had referred to himself and the Max as "we" before blow-ing up the band of drones that had come for them, and he'd been an emotional mess already, ever since 949. Jess had been with him for the first interface, and re-membered how he'd gradually declined, losing his speech, becoming erratic—losinghimself. . . .

. . . we'll take care of you, kid. Don't die on us—and don't stop being Ellis.

That was the worst of his fears, he knew, even worse than that Ellis might die from the second inter-face. The thought that Ellis might not be there any-more, that the spark of his character might be gone—

—no. He'll be fine, everything will be fine. Jess held on to the thought, determined to believe it.

They reached the ship, and it looked even more

alien up close. It was made from some light gray mate-rial, matte and smooth, not a straight line in sight.

Even the hatch was rounded, a giant stretched oval set into the side of the swollen body. Lara reached up and touched a panel next to the door, Jess holding his breath—and exhaling as the hatch slid to one side with a soft hum.

Inside, it looked more like a transport shuttle, with obvious chairs and a rounded console at the front. It was spacious and empty, and smelled faintly of some-thing sour.

Lara moved inside, and Jess turned to Max, stand-ing a few meters away. Even Hunter-sized, the door was too small to admit the bulky suit; he'd have to pull Ellis out and carry him into the ship.

"Okay, Ellis. Breathe easy, I'm going to—"

Max raised his rifle arm, pointing it down the hill, cutting Jess short, making him feel sick. Something was coming. It was as if every pain in Jess's body surfaced at once, the full extent of his injury and exhaustion fi-nally letting itself be known.

No more. God, no more.

Jess turned, aching—

—and saw Machiko Noguchi emerge from the tan-gle of trees.

Maxellis was safe and warm in the dark, feeling noth-ing, aware that the smallwoman was not a threat. They kept the left arm raised anyway, in case she was not alone.

She moved quickly up the grade and spoke to the Jess, the man, both of them making soft and light sounds, good sounds. She stood and waited for some-thing, her posture expectant.

The man moved behind Maxellis and touched the damaged area of their body. They realized too late what he was doing and tried to tell him no, no, that it was not good—

—and there was a shock of sensation, of many, ice

and wet and pain. Maxellis screamed soundlessly, born into the terrible cold, pulled from their womb of suste-nance—

—and then there was nothing.

Lara sat in the center of the circular console, confused, not sure what to touch to make the alien ship come to life. She'dfound the controls, at least—there were a dozen flat squares that might be buttons facing the blank front viewscreen, with two thick handles sitting above them. She'd punched the first square in the line and it had lit up, a deep red color. As far as she could tell, that was all it had done.

Intuitive, right . . .

She was about to try the next when she heard No-guchi's voice coming from the open hatch behind her. "I can pilot, come help—"

Lara stood and turned, hugely relieved at the sound of the woman's firm voice—until she saw Ellis in Noguchi's arms, streaks of drying blood on his ashen face. His hair was matted with red.

"Oh, shit," Lara said weakly, and hurried out from behind the controls, stumbling to where Noguchi stood. Together, they moved Ellis to one of the benches against the wall, laying him down as gently as possible.

Noguchi moved to the controls and slid into the pi-lot seat, running her hand across the buttons from left to right. Immediately, the ship began to rumble, a steady sound of working machinery filling the faintly unpleasant air. At the same time, the front viewscreen flickered on, and Lara glanced up at it from where she'd collapsed, cradling Ellis's poor head in her lap.

The picture was surprisingly sharp, the colors muted, the view of the hill's base where the clearing met the jungle. Lara started to look away, to look for a supply cabinet,they have to have bandages of some kind—

—when she saw the darkness coil out into the open space. "Jess!"Lara screamed, staring at the dozens of bugs

that were surging out of the trees, at the running black tide of teeth and claws erupting into the clearing.

"He said he was—" Noguchi started, but then Jess was falling inside, tripping across the smooth floor to where Lara sat, landing in the seat next to her.

"Go, go, I'm in!" Jess shouted.

"Hang on, we're—"

Bam bam bam bam!

Noguchi whipped around, staring at the still-open hatch. "Who's shooting?" "Briggs, I put him in Max," Jess said. "Now go!"

The drones were coming, the dark wave drawing closer, and over the sound of a pulse rifle Lara could hear their rising screams—and could see the front line crumbling, the closest of the trumpeting animals blown back by the steady beat of Max's firing—

—and then the hatch was closed, and Lara held on to Ellis as the transport jerked and lifted, rising up from in front of the teeming mass, from the sudden river of liquid fire that swept across the dark, insectile bodies.

Flamethrower.

Lara turned wide eyes to Jess, still not sure that she'd heard right. "You put Briggs—"

Jess reached down and touched Ellis's forehead, brushing the hair away from his waxy brow. "Thought he could do some good with the time he has left," Jess muttered.

The transport rose for another few seconds and then shot away.

Lara and Jess had done what they could for their friend, bandaging him with a few pieces of soft leather they'd found for cleaning weap-ons. There was a medkit on board, but the tough plastic patches that Hunters used as bandages weren't made for humans, and Noguchi didn't know about any of the shots or drug packs.

There was plenty of air, enough for at least two weeks, and ancient emergency rations that had been stocked on the slight chance that something went wrong on a Hunt, stranding the Hunters. The protein jerky would taste terrible, she knew from experience, but it would sustain them.

As the transport began its ascent into Bunda's outer atmosphere, Lara and Jess moved forward, taking seats near the piloting console..Noguchi glanced back and saw that they'd strapped the unconscious Ellis to a bench, his arms folded across his narrow chest. It was amazing to her, how young he was. She'd pictured him as much older, as a lined and weathered man, but the person Jess had pulled out of the suit barely looked out

of his teens. With his face wiped clean, he seemed even more like a child, pale and fragile. "How is he?" Noguchi asked.

Lara answered. "His pulse is good, but beyond that . . ."

She trailed off, and the three of them sat quietly for a moment. Noguchi could hardly believe that it was over; not just their experience on Bunda, but her life with the Clan.

"So, where do we go from here?" Jess asked softly, his eyes closed, his voice thick with approaching sleep.

"Home," Lara said, looking out at the approaching stars, her expression peaceful, tired, and a little sad but at rest.

Home.

Lara was talking about Earth, but Noguchi thought there was more to it, the planet's name inspiring none of the warm and lovely things that Lara's answer had inspired. It was the word for feelings she'd never fully understood and she savored it, tasting it, wondering how it could mean so much now.

Home. Someplace I haven't been, yet.

They moved out into the void, the soothing lull of the engines putting her passengers to sleep, Noguchi looking forward to experiences she knew would put the Hunt to shame, to a life that would be whole and fulfilling and new; they were going home.

EPILOGUE

He slept, and as he had before, he dreamed.

He dreamed in concepts, in pictures of ideas. That there was strength and heat in the cold emptiness, that there was light in the dark, that time and thought were fluid, yielding to the pressure of his touch. He dreamed that there was no loneliness, no pain—and when the fabric of his dreams began to thin, when shredded, ugly holes began to appear in the fine cloth, he fought bit-terly to keep his dreams close to him, to keep himself whole.

It was no use. After what seemed an eternal strug-gle the beautiful darkness melted away, and there was pain, and he was alone. The war was lost . . . but he thought that his name was Brian, and in thinking it, felt that perhaps losing wasn't the end of everything good.

He settled into a deep and healing sleep, and did not dream anymore.

PREY

Chapter 1

STEVE PERRY AND STEPHANI PERRY

Well, not to put too fine a point on it, I still think you're full of crap."

Scott smiled to take a little of the sting out, but not that much. They'd dropped out of hyperspace a week back, were running on the new and improved gravity drives, and the old argument had been lit and burning almost since the crew left the sleep chambers. The others were working the plant or attending to ship routine and the two pilots were alone in the control module, staring into the blackness of the Big Deep. Still a few weeks out from their next port, but it was starting to look like a few years.

Tom, whose still-short dark hair had been cropped to his skull before he'd gone into the sleep chamber, was up on his soapbox again, looking kind of like a military-college freshman in free-speak alley.

Scott stroked his blond beard and waited for the reply he knew was coming. Around them, the stale ship air smelled like a gym locker.

Tom didn't miss a beat. "Sure, I'm full of crap. Me and everybody else. But I'm telling you, the bill is gonna come due sooner or later. You can't just keep raping virgin planets, stripping them of everything valuable, and leaving the hulks behind."

"I don't recall that I stuck my dick into the dirt anywhere lately," Scott said.

"You know what I mean."

"No, I don't. The Lector, in case you fell asleep during the orientation session, is a tug. We're towing a half-full barge with about fifteen million tons of rendered fish and animal products and the processor that did it to collect more meat on the hoof from the poor suckers on Ryushi, a bunch of shit-kicker cowboys-no, not even cows, they're rhynth boys living on a middle-of-nowhere planet."

"Scott-"

"And," he continued, ignoring Tom, "and the barge, this ship, the cowboys, and you and me are all owned body and soul by the Corp. Talk to old man Chigusa with your raping-the-environment complaints."

"Jesus, you are so damned close-minded-whoa!"

Scott waved his hands over the controls, trying to get a fix on the blip. Here in the middle of the Big Deep, where there was nothing but their vessel and occasional hydrogen atoms to bounce off it, something had just shot past them so fast it wasn't even a blur. And gaining speed like a bitch, too. Okay, yeah, it was a couple hundred klicks away, but out here, that was almost a sideswipe.

"Goddamned cheap fucking doppler!" Tom said, trying to get the computer to adjust its scan. "What the hell was that? A ship?"

"Not hardly. That acceleration would probably turn people into seat pancakes. Nova debris, maybe, old rock spat out by a real big planet-buster blast."

"Yeah? Maybe it's God on His way to the Final Reckoning. Better scrub your conscience clean,

Scotty."

"I'm just a grunt, pal, don't blame me for the way the universe gets run."

"Fucking spectrograph missed it altogether." He slammed the heel of his hand against the console. Nobody wasted any money on these ships for such things as decent hardware.

"Like we were going to chase and catch it even if it was solid platinum, right?" Scott smiled. "It's not our job, buddy. One more rock in the dark, who cares?

Seated in front of the sensor array on Ne'dtesei, Yeyinde watched the alien ship dwindle in their wake. He was Leader; his very name meant "brave one" but he knew the warriors called him "Dachande" when they thought his ears too dull to hear them. That name meant "different knife," and it referred to his left lower tusk, broken in a bare-handed fight against the Hard Meat, the kainde amedha, they of the black armored exoskeletons and acid blood. He smiled inwardly at the name. It could be considered an insult, but he was proud of it. The Hard Meat, save for the queens, were no smarter than dogs, but they were fierce and deadly game. Good prey upon which to train the young warriors. He could have had the tusk capped and reground, but he had left the broken fang a dull stump to remind himself-and any warriors who felt brave or particularly stupid-that only one yautja of all had ever faced the Hard Meat unarmed and walked away. As befitted a true warrior, Dachande himself never spoke of the battle, but let others tell the tale, holding a serious mandible at the embellishments they added in the singing of it. He was Leader of the Ne'dtesei, son and grandson of ship leaders and warrior trainers, and he bowed to no one in his skill with blade or burner. He had taken hundreds of young males out to learn the Hunt and had lost but a dozen, most of whom would still be among the living had they obeyed his orders.

But he sighed at the ship now so far behind him as to be invisible to even the sensors' keen eyes. Oomans flew in that vessel. He knew of them, the oomans, though he himself had never Hunted them. They were tool folk, had weapons equal to those of the yautja, and were, if the stories could be believed, the ultimate pyode amedha. Soft Meat. But with deadly stingers, the oomans. A true test of skill. What were they doing out here? Where were they bound? A pity he was locked into this Hunt, responsible for a score of itchy would-be warriors full of themselves and ready to show off their prowess.

Well. Someday he would Hunt them, the oomans.

For now, he had a ship to fly, Hunts to prepare.

He switched to the electronic eyes that watched the Hard Meat queen in the nest they had made for her deep in the belly of the ship.

The image blossomed on the plate in front of him.

Tall she was, the queen, twice his own height, massive even in the reduced gen-pull of the ship, probably four times his weight. Black as a nest cleaner's hands, gleaming dully under the lights, the queen looked like a giant zabin bug, with the addition of a long segmented tail and smaller supplemental arms jutting from her torso. Her comb rose high like antlers, flat and flaring, and she had two sets of needle-toothed jaws, one nesting inside the other and able to extrude a span from her mouth to grab like pincers. Freed, she would be a formidable opponent, fast, powerful, intelligent. But she was not free, the queen. She was bound in bands of dlex, wound in restraints that could resist the sharpest blades, the hottest fires, the strongest acids. Bound and made into nothing more than an egg-laying captive, subject to the will of the ship's Leader. A conveyer ran beneath her massive ovipositor, catching the precious eggs and carrying them to the packing compartment. There, they were fed into the robot crawler in the sucker ships connected to the Ne'dtesei like leeches on either side. Inside the suckers the robots-treaded machines designed for one purpose-prepared themselves to transport and place the eggs on fertile

ground. Like a mechanical mother, the robots would leave the eggs where they could open and the crab like first stage Hard Meat could find game to infect with the next stage. Those embryos would eventually chew their way free of the hapless host to become drones, the final stage for most of the Hard Meat. Prey, to the warriors he had brought to learn the rules of the Hunt. Stupid but deadly, the Hard Meat would teach the main lesson the young ones needed to know: move well or die. There was no room for error in the Hunt.

Dachande looked at the fettered queen, the fleshy eggs she laid. His own trophy wall on the homeworld held half a dozen of the Hard Meat skulls, bleached and clean, including the one he had killed with his bare hands, as well as a queen, taken during a hellish hunt in which nine already-Blooded warriors had died. He had killed fifty others, but had kept, as was proper, only those he had thought worthy of his wall. They were fierce, but usually no challenge to one such as himself. If he had occasion to face one on these Hunts, he would limit himself to spear or wrist knife. After all, any yautja could burn the Hard Meat; a Leader had to handicap himself. The females smiled upon a brave male more often than they did others; Dachande had never lacked for female attention before, nor did he intend to begin now. He had sired seventy-three suckers over the years since first he had become a Blooded warrior and he was planning on reaching eighty by the end of the next breeding season. A yautja did what a yautja had to do to bolster his line and when his Final Hunt took place, he intended to leave behind a legion of younglings.

He grinned. Any Hunt could be the Final Hunt, that was the Path, but he did not think this would be the one. This was routine; he had led a score of missions such as this one, and he could do it blindfolded, with dull blades and a dead burner in his sleep. An easy run, gkei'moun simple.

He switched off the eyes watching the queen. He should go and release some of the pressure that had built up among the young males. A couple of them in particular were showing signs of preparing to do something stupid, such as challenging a Blooded warrior or even the Leader himself. Young males were not a whole lot brighter than the Hard Meat, Dachande sometimes thought. He could still recall his pre-warrior days when he had known everything, was the bravest yautja ever born and ready to prove it at the slightest provocation. Ah, the days of his invincible youth. Surely there could have been no male who had swaggered more, thought more highly of himself, acted as if he were the linchpin around which the galaxy would someday turn. A creature of destiny, he had thought, different from the other obnoxious would-be heroes who strutted and stood ready to be offended at the hint of disrespect.

He recalled an instance when a younger male had glanced at him with what he thought an inappropriate demeanor, had allowed his gaze to linger a quarter second longer than the galaxy's would-be linchpin had deemed respectful. How he had puffed up like a poison-toad and stepped forward to issue a claw challenge, and that only because death challenges were forbidden to the un-Blooded. How when crossing the empty space between himself and the insolent pup who had offended him, he had been knocked sprawling by a female going about her business. By the time he had recovered, the disrespectful one had gone and the female, if she had even noticed, had also continued on her way.

He grinned, tusks going wide. Such a long time ago that had been, before most of the current class of pups had been sap in their fathers' rods. They would learn, just as he had learned. They were not the gods' gift to the universe. He would see to it. Or he would see them dead. Either way was the Path.

Chapter 2

Dachande walked, slowly down the dim corridor toward the kehrite, the room where the training

yautja learned blade and simple unarmed combat. Many Leaders focused on the importance of shiftsuit mechanics and burners in the teaching of the Hunt, but not he; from long experience Dachande knew that sometimes there was nothing to rely on outside of one's own prowess. To teach anything else would be to risk the death of future warriors, and a good Leader had many students still Hunting.

The measure of a teacher was the life span of those he taught. The longer they lived, the better the instructor.

Dachande inhaled deeply as he neared the kehrite. The musk of aggression was strong in the air, an oily, bitter smell that promised confrontation, but he did not hurry. Being the eldest Blooded on a Hunt had its privileges; no fight would begin without the Leader to witness it.

The winding passageway narrowed to an arched entry in front of Dachande, the walls lined with Hard Meat armor. Already he could hear the clatter of taloned feet and the mumblings of expectation. He stepped through the arch and waited for acknowledgment. Quickly, he located the few students he had picked to cause trouble early on and marked them; Mahnde, the short one; Ghardeh, with the long tress; and Tichinde, who talked louder than any other. Of the three, Ghardeh would be the least trouble; he was but a follower. But the other two . . .

Within a short span, all yautja had turned their attention to him. There were fourteen in all who wore the plain dlex headband of student, plus two Blooded warriors who helped supervise; these two, Skemte and Warkha, were also the navigator and flyer. The ship was fully automated, a single trained yautja could handle it-but it did not hurt to take precautions. Both warriors carried Dachande's signature mark upon their foreheads like a third eye, the etch of Hard Meat blood from their first kill, and they watched him carefully for direction; each sought their own Leaderships; both were wise enough to know such achievement would not be through Challenge against him.

One by one, all heads bowed to him. Dachande nodded curtly, never taking his sharp yellow gaze from the group, Tichinde in particular. What he saw did not surprise him. Tichinde had lowered his head but kept his own gaze on Dachande. When he saw that his Leader watched in return, he flared his lower mandibles and raised his head to face him-a sure sign of aggression. It was insolent, but forgivable, were his Leader a patient one; had Tichinde begun the low growl of confrontation, it would not be so easy to allow him to remain unmolested. As it stood, this was a prime opportunity to let the cooped-up young males practice.

"Tichinde!" Dachande made his voice angrier than he was. The yautja surrounding the arrogant youth stepped away from him, tusks opened wide.

"You may show your 'skills,' " Dachande continued, his voice threaded with sarcasm, "by a jehdin/jehdin spar with . . . Mahnde. First fall determines the winner."

There were rumblings of disappointment as the young males moved from the match area to line the scarred kehrite walls; with no weapons to be used, both combatants would probably still be alive after the match. Still, the energy was high. Several yautja had seen the look between Tichinde and the Leader, and all could see the disrespectful face of the student now. What would the Leader do about this? How would he respond? Was he weak enough to allow a Challenge to pass, even one so veiled?

Dachande paused until all were in place before giving the command.

"Begin,"

As one, the yautja began to howl and chant as the two young males circled. Dachande watched carefully as Mahnde lunged forward for the first blow, arms raised.

Tichinde blocked easily and countered with a jab to the throat.

Mahnde moved aside, not fast enough to avoid the shot completely. A chorus of guttural hisses filled the room as he stumbled and pulled back. A clumsy response. No one was impressed.

Tichinde shrieked and ran at Mahnde, talons extended for a stab to the abdomen.

The defender, already off-balance, blocked too high. Tichinde hit full on and knocked Mahnde to the padded floor. The victorious youth threw back his head and screamed in triumph. The kehrite pounded with the cries of the agitated students. The match was over.

Too soon. Blood was still too warm; none would be satisfied with such a quick bout.

Dachande looked for a challenger amidst the yowls and clicks of the clamoring spectators, displeased with Mahnde's performance. Perhaps Chulonte, he showed promise . . .

A score of new sounds filled the room as the yautja began to scream in surprise and renewed excitement. Dachande's gaze flickered back to the match area, and he watched in amazement as Tichinde kicked his fallen opponent in the head.

"Ki'cte!" Dachande had to shriek to be heard. "Enough!"

Tichinde kicked again. Mahnde rolled over, tried to cover his face and grab at Tichinde's foot at the same time. The yautja were going wild. Blood was molten; spittle flew as they shook their heads in excitement.

"Tichinde!" Rarely had Dachande seen such disobedience. He stalked onto the match floor and shouted again.

Tichinde turned to face the Leader. He snarled. The young male extended one hand and shoved at Dachande's left shoulder.

Dachande avoided the push automatically.

The clawed hand fell short.

The watching yautja suddenly fell silent, only a few dying clicks and cries of wonder. Tichinde's movement was unmistakable, and since Dachande had attained Leadership, a move that he had not seen. The sign of direct challenge.

Dachande sighed to himself silently. What an idiot this one was. How had he survived this long?

The baked dirt that covered the valley floor appeared nearly lifeless under the searing heat of the dual suns. What vegetation there was appeared stunted, twisted, cooked. The twin stars were hardly an exact match; the secondaries shadows were barely visible, a frail blur next to the deeper charcoal hues cast by the primary. The towering plateaus of dirty tan rock-there had once been water here to cut them so, ran in corridors throughout the basin and offered no comfort unless you crawled among the stones-which no sane human would want to do for all of the venomous forms of hidden life there. Besides the stinging flies

and poisonous snakes, there was a particularly lethal form of scorpion that nested amidst the boulders during Ryushi's nineteen hour day. Even after sundown, the heat rarely fell below body temperature, and without the relief of the cool breezes that sometimes came with desert climate after dark. The air was always bone-dry and the feverish winds that occasionally blew were sharp and unpleasant, the crack of a hot whip. Maybe it was somebody's idea of paradise

But not mine.

Machiko Noguchi ran a delicate hand through her short black hair and punched the scan button. The portable eye panned across the barren wasteland, showing her more of the same. It was identical to almost everywhere else on Ryushi. Besides the few artificial watering holes and the settlement itself, the whole planet looked like a desert prospector's version of hell-rocks, dirt and heat, and no precious metals hidden there, either.

Noguchi sighed and tapped a few keys. As the small screen faded to black, she leaned back in her form-chair and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and growled softly through clenched teeth. When the opportunity had presented itself, she had not hesitated. Only twenty-nine years old and already offered an overseer's post for the Chigusa Corporation. Prosperity Wells, at the far edge of the Beta Cygni system, very quiet; "Sounds exhilarating," she'd said.

Right. Only her six months of phase-in was almost up and she was so sick of this rock she could vomit. A necessary career move, she kept telling herself.

Well, at least there's air-conditioning . . .

Noguchi stretched her arms over her head and arched her back. Her lunch break was almost over, time to get back to the office. She usually ate with Hiroki, but he'd had a meeting with a few of the ranchers and she had decided to slip back to her apartment and go over a stat report for the company. Might as well let him keep the reins for the last few weeks of his stay. Besides, only in her private chamber did she feel free to relax; to let her feelings show anywhere else was-it was not an option. There was too much at stake for her to be anything but completely professional.

She glanced at the holo-mirror by her door on the way out and nodded at what she saw-cool, composed, detached. Attractive in a typical Japanese way, although that was not important to her. She looked. . . authoritative. The ranchers didn't seem to like her very much, but they would respect her-her honor would accept nothing less.

Dachande felt his anger flare and then, almost regretfully, he let it pass. Half a lifetime ago, such a display of brash audacity would have meant a quick death for the young male; the yautja who would dare to challenge him? Certain thei-de. And grinning all the while he delivered it, too.

But he was Leader now. Not a kind Leader, but a just one. There were others who would kill for such an offense-but these days, he would teach. There was no point in a match you knew you would win. Doubt was necessary or it was but an exercise.

All of this flitted through his mind in less than a second.

Tichinde pushed at him again.

Again Dachande slipped the move unthinkingly. He saw the surprise on the young one's face. And perhaps, too late, a touch of realization that he had made an error. A very bad error.

The juvenile yautja gave up their stunned hush at this new transgression and roared for blood. It did not matter whose.

Dachande reflected no longer. He grabbed Tichinde's hands and held them high with his own. Tichinde screamed into his face, the shrill sound blended with the cries of the spectators. Dachande did not pause.

The Leader jerked his head forward. Their skulls met with a dull crack that sent a peal of renewed clatterings and hisses through the assemblage.

Tichinde pulled his hands loose and staggered back, arms still held high, but dazed.

They circled.

A tiny trickle of pale blood ran down Tichinde's face from beneath his dlex band. Without taking his gaze from Dachande, the student reached up and touched the flow, rubbed it between his fingers for confirmation; he did not seem to like the feel.

Too bad.

Tichinde spread his arms wide, back hunched, and screamed. The sounds were garbled with fury, but the inflections unmistakable Nan-deThan-gaun. The Kiss of Midnight.

Tichinde's intentions were crystal: he would kill his Leader, if he could.

Enough was enough. Dachande locked his fingers together and leapt. He landed beside the impudent yautja and brought his double-fist down, hard, into the small of the still screaming Tichinde's back. Tichinde fell to the floor. His lower jaw smacked the mat quite audibly.

Dachande jumped back quickly as Tichinde slowly regained his feet. Aware of his audience, the Leader moved with all the grace and skill he could muster. The motion was nearly perfect and any of the watchers who could recall even a bit of training would be impressed by the flow of it. Which was the point.

New blood oozed from the young male's lower mandibles. The watching students sang out calls of victory for their Leader as Tichinde turned to face Dachande. The cries of derision from his peers were perhaps what spurred the young male into action. With a strangled hiss, the bleeding yautja ran at Dachande, fists extended.

Give him credit for spirit. Credit for brains, no. For skill, hardly. But he was no coward.

Still, it was poor form. Dachande fell to his knees before Tichinde reached him and grasped the student's over-stretched upper body with one hand, his nearer leg with the other. Suppressing a grunt, he strove to make the move appear effortless.

As if the youth weighed no more than a suckling, Dachande stood and thrust Tichinde high over his head.

The howling yautja tried to escape and regain the floor, but his writhings were to no avail. Dachande held the young male high, let out a growl of conquest-then threw Tichinde across the room.

The mob of howling young males split, narrowly avoided the flung body before it smacked into the wall. They chanted triumph for Dachande, harsh sounds of vain-desintje-de; pure win.

Dachande made no chant himself and none was needed. The fallen Tichinde spoke for him.

For a short time, nobody moved.

Finally, Tichinde staggered upright and walked slowly toward his Leader, head bowed. The outcome was obvious, and a further display of aggression would be dishonorable, not to mention stupid. Tichinde stopped in front of him and raised only his eyes to see what Dachande would decide; in such a Challenge, death was not an unreasonable punishment.

Dachande pretended to consider his options as the chants fell to a breath-held stillness and over-stretched tension. There was really no question for him; a good Leader did not have to kill one of his own to prove anything-and to embarrass the young male would tell later in Tichinde's Hunts. He waited because all eyes watched and the hesitation was penalty enough.

After a few breaths-time Dachande tilted his head to one side and spoke. "Payas leitjin-de. " He paused. "Hma'mi-de. "

Tichinde hung his head lower and stepped back, his relief visible. Several young males came forward to touch Tichinde's hair in appreciation of the Leader's compliment. The precise tip of Dachande's head combined with the words indicated both acknowledgment of the student's submission and a respect for his bravery-"Remember God's practice." Tichinde was allowed his life and his name, but with the ritual warning a slap to his embarrassed face. Still, there was no real shame in losing to one who had faced the Hard Meat with nothing but talons and blade.

Dachande almost allowed himself a grin, but did not want to lighten the effect of his pronouncement; he raised his hand and gestured for the students to fall in line for training. Tichinde knew who was Leader, and would not forget it. And if another yautja strayed from obedience . . . ?

After this, it would not likely happen. If it did, there would be more than one "dachande" on ship. His honor would accept nothing less.

Chapter 3

They were still in space, but it wasn't nearly so deep now. The ship's drone had mellowed as the gravity drives slowed them to intersystem speeds.

"Eleven days, buddy boy, and then no more of your dick in my ear for what, seventy-two hours?"

Tom grinned and shook his head. "You wish."

Scott raised his coffee cup in a mock toast. "Here's to pretty girls and sunny days, Tommy." He sipped the watery liquid and grimaced. "Nothing like a nice mug of shit to put a shine on the morning, hey?"

"It's . . ." Tom glanced at his terminal. "Four in the afternoon, you pig. Happy hour."

"Right," said Scott. "Whatever."

They sat in silence for a few moments. Tom worked studiously at one of his crosswords, tapping in words and erasing them at the same rate. Scott gazed into the darkness and tried to remember the words of a poem he used to know. He could probably just look it up in the ship's library, same as Tom and his puzzle, but learning how to kill time was a good trick in their line of work. Nothing to do and plenty of hours to do it.

'Twas brillig and the slithy toves, did gyre and-something-something wabe-all mimsy were the borogoves and the something-bath outgrabe-

"Six-letter word for 'saint'?"

Scott thought for a second and then smiled. "Thomas."

"Funny. Like not wanting to fuck over all things great and small makes me some kinda prince. I mean, really-" Tom paused. "Hey, that's it. Prince. You're good for something after all, you pagan asshole."

"You still pissed about last night?" Scott shook his head. It seemed that this debate would never die-but eleven days was eleven days. "Like I said, survival of the fittest. The fact remains that if the human race needs to do something to survive-and the lower orders don't have the power to stop us, we'll prevail. It's not right or wrong, it's just the way things are."

Tom looked up from the monitor, jaw set. "So it's all right to do whatever we want, exploit any ecosystem, as long as we don't run into anything big enough to kick our butts-that's basically it, right?"

"Couldn't have put it better myself."

"That's opportunistic rationalization, Scott. Where's your sense of social responsibility? Didn't your mama raise you right?"

"I was a tube child, thank you very much."

"That must be it." Tom hit the store button on his keyboard and stood. "Now, if you'll excuse me a moment, I have this sudden overwhelming urge to take a dump."

Scott chuckled. "I'm not even gonna touch that one."

Tom slapped him on the shoulder and exited the control module. Tom was all right, he didn't take himself too seriously at least. Scott had been paired up with worse. He felt his grin slowly melt as he turned his gaze back to the deep. Killing time, that was all.

Beware the jabberwock, my son, the jaws that bite the claws that catch-beware the jub jub bird and shun the frumious bandersnatch.

Yeah, that was it. What, he wondered, did it mean? And why was he thinking about it now?

Hiroki's face remained expressionless as Noguchi lit a cigarette at her desk and exhaled a haze of gray smoke. She knew he disapproved, but she also knew that it was not appropriate for him to speak of it; it was, after all, her office now. It was not even a habit , that she was particularly attached to

But wouldn't your father be displeased, Machiko?

Noguchi inhaled deeply.

Hiroki uncrossed his legs on the couch and smoothed his small mustache carefully with one finger. "As I was saying, Ackland expressed some concerns with the agreement. He says that he has the support of the other ranchers, or at least Harrison and Marianetti."

"Well, that's three of the big four," Noguchi began. "Perhaps we should contact the company-"

A small green light flashed from the control panel set into her desk, accompanied by a low tone.

"Excuse me, Hiroki."

"Of course." He picked up a sheaf of hard copy and settled back into a plush cushion. Noguchi punched up visual and hit receive.

"Mr. Shimura we have an unidentified incoming at-oh, Ms. Noguchi."

Noguchi smiled slightly at the young man's visible discomfort and waited. He was one of the scan watchers, a low-level company worker.

"I, uh, I have a message for Mr. Shimura. Is he there?"

Noguchi frowned. "Yes, he's here. But you can give me the message, Mason." She glanced at Hiroki, who made a point of being deeply engrossed in the rhynth count report he was reading.

Mason swallowed. "Uh, yes, ma'am. Long range is showing a UFO. It's probably just a meteor, but it's not breaking up, it is going to hit-if it stays on its present course, it'll make planetfall about thirty klicks north of here-open pasture. Make a boom when it lands."

"Any damage likely?"

"No, it's not that big."

"Then don't worry about it." Noguchi stubbed her cigarette out into the pewter tray on the desk. "We can investigate after the roundup. Noguchi out."

The screen went blank. She took a deep breath and then looked at Hiroki. He had set down the file and was watching her, face impassive as usual. At least there was no sympathy. She opened her mouth, uncertain as to what she was going to say; their relationship had progressed to a first-name basis, but that didn't make them friends.

She forced herself not to look away. "I've been here nearly six months, Hiroki—and still they report to you. The ranchers, even the staff treat me like a stranger. I have done all I can think of to make this job mine"

Noguchi fell silent and waited. Hiroki watched her for a few seconds and then stood and faced her, hands clasped behind his back.

"Maybe that is your problem, Machiko. You're trying to adapt the job to you, rather than adapting yourself to it. You can't run an operation like this and hide from it at the same time, no matter how nice the office."

Noguchi nodded slightly, thoughtful. This sounded like something he had been waiting to say until asked, which made her wonder how long he had been holding his tongue. Still, she needed an informed opinion. The ranchers respected Shimura--no, even further, they trusted him. She had not thought to find out how he had achieved their loyalty.

"There are only one hundred and thirteen civilians on Ryushi," he continued, "and besides the thirty or so company staff, we are dealing with freelancers here-not men and women who jump when the voice of the corporation speaks. They are not drones looking for advancement; they are people with children and homes. Quoting regulations will not get you very far."

Noguchi felt a flash of anger, but she fought to keep it under control. "What would you suggest, Hiroki? That I bake cookies and invite them on picnics?"

"I suggest that when you ask for an opinion, you should consider the advice you receive." Hiroki picked up his sun helmet from the synth-marble coffee table and walked to the door. He paused with his hand on the entry controls and looked back at her.

"Look, I'll be around for another two weeks, and then you're on your own. I will do what I can to help in the meantime." He smiled a little. "I think you will do fine, Machiko."

She stood and nodded at him. "Thank you for your . . . assistance, Hiroki."

"It is nothing. Get out of the office once in a while, get your hands dirty." He opened the door and then grinned easily. "Get some rhynth shit between your toes."

Noguchi sat back down and rested her hands lightly on the black-lacquered surface of her desk. Hiroki's words had stung a bit, but perhaps because there was some truth there; it deserved consideration. Hiroki was, after all, being promoted off of Ryushi. The ones who went up the ladder were generally not those that kept a low profile, as she had been doing.

Perhaps it's time to make some of my own moves . . . Noguchi took another cigarette from the small silver case in her desk drawer and rolled it thoughtfully between her thumb and forefinger. What was the saying?

The journey of a thousand kilometers begins with one step . . .

At first there was only the vision of dark, cracked matter all around, seen through a thick cloud of oily smoke. The electronic eye scanned the pit and then looked up. With a sudden lurch, the tou-dte kalei moved forward, using its segmented pincers to pull itself out of the crater.

It was a large, armored mechanism, the tou-dte kalei, designed to withstand almost any type of environment so far encountered; it was actually modeled after a kind of predator discovered on Than, a world of dense metals and poisonous weather. Something like the Hard Meat, but more efficiently built-it could climb, walk, run, or dive into liquid. And while the robot crawler did not Hunt as the real creature could, it served a purpose that was more important than simple survival; it was the bearer of life.

Dachande switched to the rear gkinmara, another of the rounded eyes that transmitted sensory information. "Lou-dte kalei" was a joke, really, a derogatory term that was sometimes used for a female-literally, "child-maker." Not that Dachande had ever heard the name spoken to a female's face. A warrior who would dare such would not be wise, for an insulted and angry yautja female was not something even a not-too-wise male wanted to create. Assuming the warrior was armed and expert, it might almost be an even match, but Dachande would put his wager on the female. His most recent partner had tossed him across a room during the heat of their mating and that had been an accident.

Mating. Ah, now there was a pleasant thought.

As if in accordance with Dachande's thoughts, the heavy dlex ramp in the tail of the crawler lowered and the machine began its function. An egg, the beginning of the Hunt, made its way gently down the plated ramp to be deposited on the dusty ground.

The crawler moved slowly forward to lay another.

Dachande rolled the control bar on the table in his private chamber. The front view appeared again in the oval monitor's screen; the crawler went toward a high mountain of some unknown material, perhaps the cliff was of tjau'ke or compressed dust. This world was a warm place, but not as humid as some. Twin suns and no freestanding liquid in sensory range. The read on the crawler showed that there were still dozens of eggs to be set; the red lines and smudges of the counter changed with each placement. Each egg was coded and tuned to a reader that would maintain the connection even after the egg hatched and became Hard Meat. They would not leave the Hunt until all the prey had been taken. To leave even a single one behind was criminal.

Dachande had not visited this place before, although the records showed that there had been Hunts here, many seasons earlier. It was listed as wide and spacious, with no antagonists and many hiding places; large, four legged creatures dwelled there naturally, ideal hosts-perfect for training. They would go in fast and dark, that was standard, but there could hardly be anything on the planet to cause them problems. It was but another dry world with little to offer save a place to Hunt. The galaxy was full of such places.

A small tarei'hsan ran in front of the egg-layer, dark in color and spined like an insect of some sort. Its tail curved over its body and ended in a point, and its arms were much like the arms of the lou-dte kalei. The crawler rolled over it, the treads crushing the tiny bug into the mottled ground. Dachande shook his head. Better it should die thus, for stupidity did not further any race and running under tank treads was not high up the scale of cleverness.

He watched as the counter ran slowly backward. They were close to this place, this dust world, but there was still plenty of time for the Hard Meat children to find hosts. The tagged babes should be drones by the ship's arrival, but there was not so much slack that they would have time to colonize. Timing was

all.

Dachande smiled. Part of being a Leader was not to seem excited by the prospect of a training Hunt, but in the privacy of his chamber, he allowed himself to feel the warmth of things to come. And somehow, this one felt different-there was an air of . . . something.

He switched the monitor off and stroked his broken tusk absently. He was too old to muddle himself with cosmic questions, but he knew the words of his ancestors: Thin-de le'hsaun 'aloun'myin-de/bpi-de gka-de hsou-depaya—Learn the gift of all sights or finish in the dance of fallen gods.

Dachande cackled and stood up. Philosophy was not his bent. He was a warrior. Let the old ones worry about such things. He was a doer, not a thinker. It was better that way. Almost always.

Chapter 4

Machiko Noguchi couldn't find the green crayon. There was the jade one and the blue-green, but the emerald-green was missing, and it was the only color that would work for the dragon's eyes.

She sighed and carefully dumped out the crayon pack. Things had been going so well until now, it wasn't fair. It was her day off from school and she had received permission to play quietly in her room for two whole hours before dinnertime. The picture of the dragon was going to be a gift for her father; she knew that he had been talking about a promotion for a long time, and that today he had an important meeting with his supervisor.

And the green was misplaced. Her parents had taught her to put things in their place because order was a very important rule; knowing where things were was a crucial ingredient to a successful life. She felt vaguely anxious as she sorted through the different shades-what if it wasn't there? What then?

Machiko spotted the crayon and nodded to herself. She had put it in with the blues by mistake, that was all. It was understandable; she would just have to be more careful...

She heard the front door open and close downstairs as she meticulously shaded in the dragon's eyes-emerald with gold rims. A cool spring breeze wafted in through her open window with the sounds of small children playing down the street. A good day. And it was going to be a beautiful picture, a long-tailed, proud dragon with green and lavender scales and red taloned feet-

Machiko frowned and looked up. Her mother had not called out to her. Mother had gone to the store to buy things for a special dinner, her father's favorite dishes. But Mother always called to her when she returned from an errand. Perhaps she had gone back outside to carry in more things . . .

Machiko stood and walked to the door of her tidy room where she paused and listened. Maybe she had not heard her mother come in after all; the house was very still. She was about to go back to her picture when she heard a noise.

"Mother?" Nothing.

It had been like a heavy sigh, that noise. From down the hall-her father's study or perhaps her parents' room. Machiko was suddenly not sure if it was a good day at all. The silent house was not peaceful anymore, it was-empty.

Bad.

She walked very slowly down the hallway, staying close to one wall. Her feet seemed like lead; with each step, her fear increased. Her mother would have surely answered, wouldn't she? Who was in their house? Should she leave?

Yes. Machiko decided that it would be good to wait outside for her mother to return. She would say that she had heard a noise and her mother would know what to do.

Except the front door . . .

Was past the study. Past her parents' room.

Machiko felt her legs trembling. The back of her neck was damp and sticky, and her stomach felt as if it were made of stone. She took another tentative step and hesitated. And she heard another noise.

All at once, Machiko relaxed. It was her father! That was the sound of his chair creaking back, as familiar a sound as his voice or the clatter of his key cards. She straightened up and started toward his door, smiling in relief. He had come home early, that was all.

"Father," she began, and reached out to knock. "I thought-"

Her words faltered as the door to his study swung inward. She had time to register surprise that he had left it unlatched before she saw him. Before she saw the knife.

And the blood.

Machiko screamed and ran to her father's side, where she pleaded and cried for him to get up, to speak, to stop pretending. She pulled at him for a long time. When he finally fell to the floor, she was drenched in his blood. He opened his eyes and sat up, smiling gently at her, arms spread.

"This is for you, Machiko," he said, and embraced her. Except that now his arms were claws and his head was a dragon's. His forked tongue flickered out as his gold-rimmed eyes began to bleed emerald tears. He pulled back to look at her as she began to wail in terror.

"You are my child," the words rasped from his dragon-face. "Redeem me . . ."

Noguchi sat up quickly, her breath coming in short gasps. She almost screamed before she realized where she was.

"Lights," she called out shakily. Her room glowed gently to life. Noguchi hugged her knees to her chest and tried to breathe deeply. Always the same dream, except she had not had it for a long time.

She had been covered in her father's blood when her mother had found her. There had been no note, only the Death Poem that her mother would not let her read until years later, but the reason had come to light that same night: the esteemed Akira Noguchi, an accountant for the Yashido Company, had been fired for embezzlement. The same man who had scolded her when she had lied about stealing a piece of candy at the age of five, the man who had taught her the value of order. The father who had taught her honor . . .

"Bastard," she murmured, angry. Except her voice didn't sound angry at all. The memories came back so easily when she let them, and now she was helpless to stop them. She had ripped up the dragon picture after the funeral; it had never been finished. The stain on their family's name had eventually faded, and when she was in college, her mother had remarried. She had met her stepfather once. He had seemed like a pleasant man, but she never got past the feeling that her mother had married him so that she would no longer be a Noguchi.

She and her mother spoke occasionally, but any closeness they had once shared was gone. Keiko Noguchi Ueda had never understood how her daughter had really felt. When she had called her mother with the news of her move to Ryushi, her mother had been so proud. "Your father would have been pleased," she had said. Her father.

Noguchi took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. None of that mattered anymore, she did not need to think of it. She was a corporate overseer for a major corporation on a planet far from Earth, and she was good at her job. She would become better in time; she would earn the ranchers' trust and would carry out her position with-with "Honor," she whispered. And try as she might, she could not hold back the single tear that coursed down her cheek.

The Lector had made it to Ryushi a little before local nightfall. Scott knew there would be some hard workdays ahead for the ranchers and The Lector crew, but as pilot, he had minimal responsibilities for a few days. About damned time for a break.

He and Tom stepped off the ramp and into the deepening twilight of the desert world. They were at the edge of a small, dingy town that smelled like manure, straight out of an old Western vid. There was no one to greet them. In fact, the place looked uninhabited.

Scott grinned. "Looks like somebody forgot to organize the parade," he said. He turned to look at Tom-and Tom wasn't there.

Scott spun and looked around. The Lector, too, was gone. Behind him lay only a vast, dusty plain, with mountains far in the distance.

"Tom!" he shouted. No reply.

Scott turned to look at the deserted town. It was almost full dark now, but there were no lights in any of the empty windows. There were only a few faded, almost nondescript buildings, their doors latched against the hot, sandy winds that blew mournfully through the lonely settlement.

Scott cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted.

"Hello! Is anyone here?"

Nothing. In spite of the weather, Scott was suddenly cold. He took a few steps toward the nearest structure and then stopped.

A high, piercing cry came from inside the building. It had the same shrill tone of an animal in pain-except it was angry. The keening wail rose to a fevered pitch, the sound of insanity and hatred. There was nothing human about it.

Scott stumbled backward and fell. He scrambled at the ground, tried desperately to pull himself back to his feet, but he couldn't seem to manage it. He tried to crawl away from the horrible sound but it filled his ears and surrounded him. From behind, he heard the door swing open and the shriek of the creature got impossibly louder.

There was no escape. Scott began to scream. He screamed because he knew what it was, the thing, and he knew that to look at it meant death.

-the Jabberwocky-!

Scott woke up in a cold sweat in a dark room on The Lector, still over a week out from Ryushi. He did not get back to sleep that night.

Under the pouring rain, Yeyinde aimed at the Hard Meat drone with his burner and depressed the control. The running bug howled and fell back in a gout of thwei, limbs clattering.

Behind him the Leader shouted commands to the other students as the hot, harsh liquid splashed down from the sky, obscuring suit vision.

Another drone ran toward him and Yeyinde fired again, excited and anxious all at once. He felt fear clench his bowels briefly, but the cold twist was quickly overriden by heat. The beast in him snarled and grew proud: Two! His first Hunt and there were two in his name!

The threat seemed to fall away as the bugs stopped, their assault. Yeyinde spun around, looked for more to kill. Between the burning rain and the hanging trees of the dto, it was hard to see.

The Leader, A'ni-de, called out. The Hunt was completed. The yautja cheered and hissed their triumph, Yeyinde's voice among them. He looked through the dancing young warriors for Nei'hman-de, whose blood he shared by the same father. Nei'hman-de was a strong yautja and fast fighter, but he surely did not kill two. Nei'hma-de and he had grown together, play. Hunting as growing suckers-and now they would share their first kill, share the victory of the Blooding. How could life get any better than

this?

"Nei'hman-de!" Yeyinde moved through the rain and called for his mei'hswei. "Nei'lunan-de!" A talon fell hard on his shoulder. 'A'ni-de.

"Neffiman-de is dead," the Leader said coldly. "He did not move properly. Now go stand at your kill for approval."

Yeyinde widened his eyes. "But Neffiman-de is--"

'A'ni-de backhanded him roughly, sent Yeyinde to his knees in the mud. "You question?" The Leader glowered over him, tusks flared.

Yeyinde bowed his head in submission. After a tense moment, 'A'ni-de stalked away.

The young warrior stood and trudged through the downpour back to the fallen drones. That a warrior's life was hard, he knew. That yautja sometimes died, he knew as well. Nei'hmande, gone. It did not seem real that it could be.

Unbidden came a memory. Of a time when he and his brother had sat drinking c'ntlip, the fiery brew that fogged mind and body with pleasure. Someday they would be Leaders, not only of ships but of other Leaders. Great would be their fame. Stories would be sung of their Hunts for a thousand years, each of them was certain. It had been as clear as the high mountain air to them. Warriors together, they would Hunt, they would make the females howl in ecstasy, they would father each two hundred sucklings. Much could be laid to the liquor, of course, but he and his brother had truly believed the core of their fantasy. They would be the ones to survive and rise; it would be the other un-Blooded who would fall. Of that there had been no doubt, none.

Only now, it was his brother who had fallen and his own head was hung low after his first Hunt . . .

Yeyinde raised his eyes and saw the results of his prowess. Two bugs lay on the watery ground because of him. And at that moment, he saw the Path; there would no longer be a place for the dreams

of youth in him. Nei'hman-de was gone, but he was alive-and now a warrior. And a warrior did not waste his time looking over his shoulder at the past. Done was done. Regret would not bring back the dead.

Yeyinde held his head high as 'A'ni-de traced a claw wet with Hard Meat thwei in the space between his eyes. He ignored the sharp sting as the acid thwei cut into his flesh to mingle with his own blood, blood that neutralized much of the Hard Meat's power. The burning mark was proof of his skill and his adulthood, a jagged etched badge for all to see. Of all the yautja on this Hunt, only he had killed two. Never again would he bow to the kinship of other males; aligning oneself with a loser was not the Path, and any yautja could lose . . .

Dachande awoke warm with pride of the memory. It was long ago and there had been many Hunts since, many of them harder and bloodier than the first. But the first had been where he discovered the truth of the warrior; it was a truth that had served him well. Now it was his turn to pass the knowledge on, to teach it to the young ones who had yet to feel the power of the Hunt, to know the joy of the first kill. It had been a long time since he had felt that newness but the dream brought it back as if it had been only moments past. The Hunt was what a warrior lived for; all else was nothing compared to it. Honor. Skill. Victory. Those were the things of life.

Chapter 5

Noguchi left her apartment early so she could catch Hiroki before he made rounds. The corporation employees' living quarters were all in the same building as the offices and mess hall, along with the community center and central operations; narrow passageways connected this building to the equipment storage and the main garage. To the east and south was open range; the north, mountains, and west was Iwa Gorge, a canyon too deep and long to herd the rhynth-although it certainly kept them from wandering too far in that direction. One less fence to build.

Noguchi walked through the connecting hall and saw one of the geotechs headed toward her, a thin older man with brown skin and very little hair. His name was . . . Hein? Hinn?

As they passed she made a conscious effort to smile and nod at the man. He seemed vaguely surprised, but returned the courtesy, his teeth a sharp contrast to his dark face.

A condescending voice spoke in her head. That wasn't too hard, now was it?

Noguchi made a mental note to check the personnel files that evening. She felt almost embarrassed; six months and she didn't even know the people she was supposed to be working with.

All of that was going to change. Noguchi had started to realize just how little she had seen of Prosperity Wells. She had, of course, spent time learning the layout of the complex when she'd first arrived; it was an efficient setup. A med center with helipad; there were quarantine and holding pens for the rhynth, a transmitter/communications control shack, and a school connected to a rec center. There was also a fairly decent, if very small, shopping mall, complete with two tiny restaurants and a bar. Not that any of these got much use. Only the company people lived in the Wells, although most of the ranchers were in walking distance-if you didn't mind a long and hot hike. If it wasn't Earth, at least an attempt had been made to try to make it look like a town. There were hardly enough people in the gene pool to turn the planet into anything civilized, and even with more settlers, it wasn't likely to ever be a major population center; still, the company had made a token effort to make it look like home.

But besides seeing an occasional holovid at the rec's theater, she hadn't really been a member of the community. It wasn't her home and she wasn't going to stay here any longer than it took to show a profit and shine in the company's eyes enough to earn a transfer to the next rung on the ladder. But Hiroki was right, she would have to do what was necessary to earn the spot and so far she had remained as insulated as a thermetic bottle.

And The Lector would be arriving in less than seventy-two hours . . .

So I imagine everyone will welcome me with open arms and songs of greeting now that I'm finally ready, hai?

Right.

As she walked between shelves piled high with bike and copter parts, she heard voices from the direction of the open entryway into the yard. She could make out the distinct soft tone of Hiroki's voice among the others; he sounded irritated.

Noguchi slowed her pace to catch the gist of the conversation she was about to walk into.

". . . not the point, Hiroki! The company's making a killing from our sweat and we're getting screwed,

right, Ackland?" "That's the way the Ranchers Association sees it."

Noguchi waited just inside the door to listen for another moment; several ranchers and Hiroki stood in a loose circle several meters away. She could just see the edge of Ackland's heavy rhynth-hide coat, which he wore even on the hottest day. He was a large, opinionated man who had an amazing ability to cause friction.

"I don't even know why I'm discussing this with you," said Hiroki. "Ms. Noguchi is in charge now. You should be talking to her."

A perfect cue. Noguchi stepped forward and through the entry.

"That bitch? She doesn't give a shit about us," said Ackland.

"Maybe if she got laid once in a while-" started one of the other ranchers. Rick Harrison. "Anybody who tried would freeze his dick off," said one of Ackland's men. The group chuckled, all except for Hiroki.

Harrison broke off abruptly when he spotted her striding toward them. He coughed suddenly into his hand.

"Ms. Noguchi," he said. His voice was loud.

She held her head high and stared at him. He dropped his gaze, as did the other men. Only Ackland had the nerve to meet her eyes.

"I thought we were in the middle of a roundup, gentlemen," she said, voice cool.

Hiroki stepped in. "We were just discussing the agreement their association has already signed."

Ackland tapped his pipe with the heel of one hand. "That was before we saw what the market was doing back on Earth. If we'd known the price of meat was going to jump like this, we'd have asked for more."

"And if the bottom had fallen out of the market, would you have offered to take less?" said Hiroki.

All eyes turned to Noguchi. She faced Ackland, obviously the man to negotiate with.

"I'll talk to the company and see if I can swing a larger cut for your ranchers," she said. "We want to

be fair."

Ackland nodded and tugged at his dirty red beard. He opened his mouth to speak, but Noguchi cut him off.

"But there won't be anything for anyone if your rhynth aren't ready for shipment when The Lector arrives." She noted his flash of annoyance with smug satisfaction. No matter what she changed, Ackland was never going to be a man she enjoyed working with. "I suggest you get back to your jobs."

She smiled at the others as they followed Ackland across the yard.

Hiroki raised his eyebrows at her after the ranchers had reached a safe distance.

"Pleasant man, Ackland," he said blandly.

"Perhaps someday we'll marry," she said, keeping a straight face.

Hiroki grinned.

"Let's saddle up," said Noguchi. She shaded her eyes against the suns and looked out at the open plain. "I'm ready to get some rhynth shit between my toes."

"Words of wisdom," said Hiroki.

Noguchi nodded and then walked with Hiroki toward the hover bikes. Already she felt as if she'd set wheels in motion; and once started, there would be no turning back.

The young males stood in standard formation and watched Dachande expectantly. The kehrite stank of musk and the air was alive with tension. He had made them wait long enough; it was time.

Dachande looked at the heaps of armor and weaponry that Skemte and Warkha had lined up against the wall. "You may collect your 'awuasaY' he said, waving at the armor. "Now."

With passionate cries of excitement, the yautja ran to the piles of equipment and Hard Meat shell, shoving and kicking to get there first. There was enough to suit all of them, of course, but they would fight for the better trappings; the stronger males would get the prime supplies. That was always the way.

Dachande watched as the yautja strapped on the scarred platings and struggled for arm sheaths and masks. Shafted knives were weighed and measured, burners' sights checked. Med kits and multiple eyes

weren't standard for young males' armor, nor were tarei'hsan loops; only the warriors used such additions. There was shift capacity in a few of the suits, but the young males would not need such things anyway; the first Hunt was more a matter of point-and-kill than tracking and hiding. Invisibility was generally reserved for prey that shot back. You had to earn the right to use the better gear, and the prey for which it was necessary.

It was still two nights until landing on the seeded world, but the yautja would need to become accustomed to their 'awu'asa', to feel comfortable with movement and weight. Dachande himself had slept in his armor the first night he had donned it. They had worn the gear only briefly during their training and under strict supervision. For this there were reasons-the main being that a young male given too much power too early was a hazard to himself and others. Turn some of the wet-behind-the-knees younglings loose with a burner even a few weeks ago and there would have been the risk of holes in the ship's hull or bodies piled in the corridors. The ceiling of the firing range had more scars than a ceremonial blood-pig.

Dachande watched Tichinde backhand a smaller male for the mask he held and hiss triumphantly at the gain. The Leader nodded thoughtfully; Tichinde was strong but reckless. Such recklessness could get him killed. Did he survive, however, he could be a great warrior and a credit to his teacher. It was far better to be brave and die than to be cowardly and survive by hiding from the Black Warrior. Songs were not sung about those who showed their back to an attack.

One by one, the dressed yautja held up their shafted knives and howled to each other, pointing their burners to the floor and pretending to fire in mock battle. Skemte caught Dachande's gaze and growled amusement at their fervor. Dachande nodded and echoed the growl. Doubtless each of the would-be warriors thought himself the bravest to have ever picked up a spear and waved it.

The young males were as ready as he could make them. He hoped they were ready enough. If they were not, it was too late. And too bad their successes or failures would start soon on the planet now speeding toward them.

Dtai'kai'-dte sa-de nau'gkon dtain'aun bpi-de. The fight begun would not end until the end; a tired saying but a true one.

The Hunt was about to begin.

Chapter 6

Noguchi rode slightly behind Hiroki through the midafternoon light, their hover bikes setting up whirls of baked tan dust and hot pebbles in their wake. Earlier they had skimmed the inner ridges of the gorge and then circled back to town for a light lunch. Now they were headed out again, toward Beriki canyon, one of the primary, runs for the majority of the herds.

Noguchi had spent most of the morning getting used to the flier's controls; fortunately, they weren't too hard to figure out-stop, go, height and speed adjustments. The trick was to watch for obstacles that might cause problems; jump a big rock too fast and you could find yourself on your back, your scooter flying merrily along without you, at least until the dead-hand control shut it down. Besides basic instructions and a few landscape remarks through the comsets, Hiroki had kept quiet during their ride.

It was the longest she'd spent outdoors since arriving on Ryushi. The heat was incredible, the rays from two suns slapping at them with tangible force. Very winds ruffled the tips of her black hair at the

base of her visor, and particles of sandy dirt kicked up by Hiroki's bike pelted her goggles and dusted her cheeks. Ahead and all around, huge cliffs encircled them.

Initially, it had all looked the same, harsh and unforgiving. But she had to admit there was a sparse beauty to the plains as well. It recalled images of sand gardens that Noguchi had visited in her youth at Kyoto. Here the sand was unchanneled and pocked with planets and rocks. Knee-high stands of beige reeds grew randomly near the edges of the valleys. Stones jutted from the earth in layers of shaded browns and grays. The fractured topsoil was a huge jigsaw puzzle with no end. There was plenty of sand, to be sure, but no order here, no simple zen lines. It was raw chaos. Billions of years in the making, this world, and she and a handful of men and women now held sway over it, masters of all the dry land. It was not hard to believe in manifest destiny out here in the far reaches of the galaxy, that mankind's true role was to minister to and control all things.

Their revving motors had surprised a goodly number of small animals out of hiding. A family of jack-lizards hopped in front of Noguchi's bike near the gorge, headed for cover in the grasses. And Hiroki had pointed out an armored fire-walker and her mate as they slipped through a pile of rocks earlier in the morning. The female was a rosy brown, her smaller mate a faded gray. They had been poking at gravel with their short, pointed snouts, probably searching for snake eggs or beetles.

Noguchi could understand, at least intellectually, why the ranchers had left Earth to make Ryushi their home. There was a kind of freedom to the prairies, a calm serenity to the stark lands. A certain beauty in it all. On Earth, a single living plex could house fifty thousand people in tight, tiny cubicles. On Earth, open land still existed but under so many regulations that just to walk upon it without a proper license might be worth a year in prison. Nowhere on the homeworld was there such vast emptiness as was all around her here. She found herself even enjoying the weather as they neared the southern end of Beriki canyon, the simplicity of a dry wind in her face. She wondered if it was too late for this new understanding to change her standing with the ranchers. Perhaps with time . . .

"We're coming up on one of Ackland's camps," Hiroki crackled in her ear.

"Right." She slowed as they rounded a bend in the gully. There were several dozen rhynth grazing on weeds a couple of hundred meters ahead, and beyond, the large treaded vehicle that Ackland used to check on his herds. The crawler could hold twenty people comfortably and was equipped with a full kitchen and sleeping accommodations for at least six; most of the ranchers had automatic vehicles--AVs--but Ackland's was the biggest.

Of course.

The rhynth themselves seemed to be unlikely meat animals. They looked to Noguchi much like a beast she had seen in a zoo as a child, a rhinoceros. The rhynth were slightly bigger than her memory of the gray-brown Terran creature, and they had a mottled purple and ochre skin. They walked on stumpy, oddly jointed legs that ended in nailed pads, and they had a hooked, beak-like mouth above which were a pair of in-line horns, the greater horn a wrist-thick and sharp cone that jutted straight up in front, the lesser horn smaller and angled slightly backward toward the animal's rear. Ugly brutes, no brighter than cattle, but very tasty when cooked properly.

Noguchi came to a stop next to Hiroki's bike and dismounted, legs still throbbing with the feel of the engine. Ackland and several of his people stood grouped near the AV and watched them approach. Noguchi set her eye protectors up on her cap and patted dust from her clothing as they neared Ackland.

The big man gazed at them with a sneer. "What's the problem, Hiroki? You and the boss lady get

lost?"

"We're just making the rounds-" began Hiroki.

"Yeah, right." Ackland grinned without humor. "What's the real reason? The company shoot down the price increase?"

Noguchi cleared her throat. "You know we can't get through the magnetic interference during the day. I'll contact them this evening."

Ackland scoffed and started to turn away.

"And," she continued, "I'll do all I can to get you a bigger cut."

She wouldn't be talking to Earth, of course, the newly invented subspace radio wouldn't stretch that far, but she could get a response from the corporate sub HQ on Kijita's World. Even though it was lightyears away, the new equipment could shrink that to a few light-hours, effectively only a few billion kilometers. They could get an answer by morning and the sub HQ was empowered to make such niggling decisions.

Ackland raised an eyebrow. "So what are you doing here?" He made no effort to keep irritation out of his voice.

Hiroki remained silent. "We're checking on everyone's progress-seeing if there's anything we can do to help," she said.

The late-afternoon light glinted off of the AV's pitted hull behind him as Ackland looked her up and down. Finally, he nodded.

"Yeah, you can help. You can stay out of our way. The last thing we need is 'help' from corporate paper-pushers."

He faced the young woman next to him and pointed to the shaded monitor built into the AV. "Roth, take some of the boys and run these three gullies. Drive 'em down into the canyon and hook up with Cho's group."

Roth nodded and motioned to two of the men in Ackland's company. Ackland presented his back to Noguchi and Hiroki and punched at the controls set into the monitor's rim. Apparently, they had been dismissed.

They walked back to their bikes slowly. Hiroki placed a hand on her forearm gently as they reached the flyers.

"I'm sorry about the way Ackland treated you," he said.

Noguchi shrugged. "Actually, it's okay. I know how-" she paused, searched for the right word. "I know what kind of an uncaring bitch I've been. I would have been surprised if he had had any other reaction. It is as if I have been in some kind of suspended animation for the last few months. I cannot explain it."

She pulled her visor down firmly and looked to ward Prosperity Wells, about to say something else, except all thoughts disappeared.

"Wow," she whispered.

"What-?" Hiroki looked past her. "Oh, yes. You haven't gotten out much since you arrived, have

you?"

Noguchi barely heard him. The suns were setting, the desert was bathed now in golds and reds. Long shadows stretched from the mountains toward them, and in the cloudless sky, the arrangement of shade and light left her breathless. It was actually the first time she had ever seen the sunset outside.

Her mind couldn't pair the stunning sight with the thoughts she'd had of Ryushi for the past six months; she would have to let one or the other go.

Ryushi was, in its way, a beautiful place, at least here and in this moment it was. Noguchi sighed and watched the sunset, Hiroki quiet beside her. When they finally mounted their bikes to head home, she felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders, one she had not been aware of until it was gone.

Tom scanned the console and spoke without looking up.

"Geosynch orbit in twenty hours, and check on turbulence."

Scott's hands fluttered over the controls. "Some fluctuation, but we can compensate no prob--we can de-couple anytime after orbit is achieved, then it's-"

The magnified Ryushi holo had appeared on the screen.

"Hel--lo Ryushi! Jesus, what a dust ball!"

Tom looked up and nodded. "So it's a tad dry, big deal."

Scott leaned back in his form-chair and cracked his knuckles behind his head. "Yeah, but we're not talking vague thirst here-this is just one big parched hellhole." He watched the vid as it panned the ranges and cliffs of Ryushi. "What kind of mouth-breather would want to move way the fuck out here? Especially when there's still plenty of land available on Nova Terra?"

Tom glanced at the screen and then went back to plugging in data. "Who the hell knows? One man's poison and all like that."

"Yeah, but look at the reads on the native life. This place is poison."

"Ah, I'm sure Ryushi is the perfect home for somebody somewhere."

"Not me," Scott mumbled under his breath. Great place for a nice vacation from the tug, sure. If you were a fucking lizard. Oh, well. He could spend his time in the local bar talking to the women, he didn't have to go hiking around in the sunshine now, did he?

Dachande studied the file picture of the desert world less than a half cycle away. Behind him, the yautja sparred under Skemte's supervision and screamed in blood lust. Soon they would have real targets.

He watched the gkinmara record and hissed in anticipation. Perfect.

Chapter 7

At a quarter past three in the morning, Jame Roth leaned against her flyer and watched for Ackland's headlights. The night was hot and free of wind, and stars twinkled faintly over the mountains. Her dog, Creep, lay panting at her feet, occasionally whining at the bulging sack hooked to the scooter's seat. Behind her a hundred meters or so, Travis and Adam watched over a small herd of rhynth, most of them on the ground asleep.

"Except rhynth sleep standing, eh, Creep?'

The mutt raised his head and whined again.

Roth considered herself a practical woman, but something about all of this gave her the shivers. The things she had found in the canyon were, well, odd. Unnatural to say the least. And now the rhynth were acting funny and Ackland's vet had found no cause for the symptoms. She didn't like it, not one bit.

She heard Ackland's AV long before it came into view. The desert was like that at night; it was one of the reasons that she and her spouse, Cathie Dowes, had moved to Ryushi. Calm and quiet, far away from crowds and the tame ugliness of Earth. Out here was freedom, and for almost three years, she and Cathie had been happy working for the ranchers. They were even discussing having a child together . . .

She cast an uneasy glance at the bundle and waited for Ackland. He was an asshole, sure, but he was the biggest herd-runner on the planet and it was his money that was going to set her and Cathie up after the sale. This was his responsibility.

The AV came rumbling around the bend up ahead and squealed to a halt in front of her, the headlights almost blinding to her dark-adjusted eyes. Ackland climbed down from the cab almost before the transport had stopped moving. Roth unhooked the sack and started toward him, Creep at her heels. He looked at the rhynth beyond her and walked quickly to meet them halfway.

"I got your message, Roth." He sounded out of breath. "What's the problem?"

"Take a look," she said, and crouched down to empty her find onto the dusty ground. Creep growled at the lifeless things and backed away. Roth speared one of the three creatures with a rhynth-stick and held it up for Ackland to see.

It looked like nothing so much as a huge spider with a spiny tail, a little smaller than a male firewalker, perhaps two handspans. Its long, segmented legs curved under its plated body and its half-meter tail looked prehensile. There were no eyes as far as Roth could tell, but there was a short fleshy tube that perhaps served as a mouth; it hung limply at the head of the creature. The thing was a mottled slate-gray all over.

Ackland took the stick from her and studied it carefully. "What the hell is it?" His voice was thick with disgust.

"Besides uglier than shit? I was hoping you could tell me," she said.

Ackland frowned and set the spider down next to the other two. "I've never seen anything like these things. Where'd you find them?"

"Up at the head of Beriki canyon. There were a couple dozen of them lying around dead." She brushed a long strand of sun-bleached hair out of her eyes and looked over at the rhynth. A few of them lowed mournfully, the sounds quiet in the still air. "That's where we scared up these poke-snoots. They were stumbling around and bumping into each other like they were half-asleep." She rose to her feet and faced Ackland, who had also stood.

"I think maybe they're sick, Mr. Ackland. I thought you should know."

"What did T Stone say?"

"Tests all clean so far."

Ackland tipped his wide-brimmed hat back on his head and then nodded at her. "You did the right thing, Roth." He looked at the herd and then down at the alien things thoughtfully. Roth waited.

"We don't know that there's anything wrong with the rhynth," he said carefully. "And we wouldn't want some dickhead from the company to panic and set up a quarantine, right?" Ackland's speculative gaze turned to her face. "I mean, we've invested a lot of time here-and something like that, well, that would mean that some of us wouldn't get the payoffs that we deserve . . ."

He trailed off, leaving the obvious unstated. Roth chewed at her lower lip and nudged one of the creatures with one boot. Ackland was a greedy man, but he would be a rich greedy man within the week. And she had checked the main herd before she had called him; the only affected rhynth were the thirty-plus head behind her. Something like this could ruin all that she and Cathie had worked for . . .

Roth shrugged mentally, her decision made. This was Ackland's problem now. "I understand."

Ackland grinned and rocked back on his heels, nodding.

"But what do I do with these things?" she said.

"Take 'em to Dr. Revna---but tell him you found them in Iwa Gorge, okay?" He put one hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. "You're doing a great job, Roth. There will be a bonus for you when this roundup is over."

As he walked back to the AV, Roth brushed at the place his hand had touched her shoulder. Asshole.

She shoved the creatures back into the bag with the rhynth-stick and loaded it onto the bike for the trip into town. "C'mon Creep." She patted her thigh and the herd dog followed her back to the watch; the rhynth that weren't asleep lay on their sides, panting heavily. Wet ropes of mucus hung from their mouths and trembled with each gasp. Poke-snoots were stupid beasts, but she didn't like to see them this way, like they had swallowed something poison . . .

Noguchi sat seizes on the rounded mat in her apartment and breathed deeply, head down. It was just after dawn, and today The Lector came. She had awakened nervous and wanted to try to relax before

starting the final roundup-but it had been almost a month since her last real practice and she could feel the muscles in her legs groaning from the stretch.

She had gotten her brown belt in karate before she'd left Earth for Ryushi, and had not been far away from black. While there were holo teaching devices that she could train to at the rec center, she had decided to put her lessons aside for a while-at least until she had found a human sparring partner. Holos weren't a bad way to go, but they lacked something. Dignity, perhaps.

But she hadn't made any close enough friends to work out with . . .

No friends, Machiko, close or otherwise. Don't kid yourself.

Right. Most ranchers probably weren't into martial arts anyway.

Her thighs trembled when she stood to form riding, horse stance; her old sensei, Master Ko, would have put her on the floor for letting herself go like this. She ran through blocks and kicks to loosen up a little, and was surprised at the vague sadness she felt at the familiarity of the moves. Homesickness? No, she had left little behind on Earth worth missing. It was . . .

Loneliness. The thought struck a chord within her that she hadn't felt for a very long time. It was the sense of-not belonging. At least on Earth she had worked in an office building with thousands of other employees, had walked through streets full of people; she had been in a karate class. Noguchi hadn't been very close to anyone, but at least there had been that option. And here there was only Hiroki, who seemed to disapprove of her somehow in spite of his smiling facade. Hiroki and a group of ranchers who didn't give a shit if she came or went.

She stopped midway through the fourth form and frowned, sweat light on her brow. What was next? Block-claw or drop to her right knee and clutch-?

She started the form over and went slowly, concentrating this time.

Chop to throat, that was it. For some reason, she felt near tears for having forgotten. Had it been so

long?

She ran through the rest of her workout quickly and then kneeled into seiza again, bangs plastered to her forehead. Today would be a nonstop panic, supervising roundup and then preparations for the arrival of The Lector. There were responsibilities to delegate and papers to shuffle. She wished there was someone to talk to, someone to commiserate with over the busy day to come . . .

Well. There was no time to regret her choices now, there was too much to be done. She had practiced smiling and nodding and tonight would be her first gesture of goodwill toward the ranchers, the company approved price increase. She hoped that it would be the start of a new relationship of mutual respect.

It has to be; Hiroki leaves in a few days with the rhynth shipment. Right. Time to get ready.

Noguchi tripped on the step into the bathroom and knocked her head solidly into the door frame. She cursed and placed a hand on the swelling lump, eyes squeezed shut. Great. The bruise would match her lavender blouse for the party. A terrific start to the day, O master martial artist.

She hoped any other disasters would wait until tomorrow.

Kesar Revna was fascinated. Alien biology was supposedly his forte, but he hadn't seen anything quite like it. He tried to keep up with the UMA reports from Earth, and Chigusa had a monthly online biomed journal that was one of the best; new species were being discovered every day, it seemed. But besides a mutant form of crab that had turned up on Terra Nova a few years back after a radioactive waste mishap, he found nothing in the literature that looked quite like this . . .

"I have to get back to work, Dr. Revna, if that's okay-"

He reluctantly looked up from the examination table at the young woman who had brought in the amazing creatures. She seemed nervous, anxious to be gone; she certainly looked out of place in the lab. Her dusty range clothes and darkly tanned skin didn't seem to agree with indoor lighting.

"Of course," he said. "It's the big day, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"And you say you found these in Iwa Gorge?"

"Uh, yeah. Right." She dropped her gaze to the table and shuddered slightly. "Mr. Ackland said you might want to take a look at them."

"Give Mr. Ackland my thanks. And I appreciate you coming in, I know how busy you must be."

"Sure, no problem. Let us know how things turn out when you get a chance." She turned to walk out and nearly collided with Miriam, the town's human doctor and Kesar's wife, which made her Dr. Revna, too.

"Excuse me, Dr. Revna,"

Miriam smiled. Her tanned skin crinkled at the corners of her eyes. She had her long and dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and she always seemed so tiny and petite she made Roth feel like a rhynth. "Hello, Jame. How's Cathie's knee?"

"Great. Good as new. I'm sorry, I really have to run-"

"That's all right. We'll hopefully see you both tonight."

Kesar had already turned his attention back to the specimen. "What do you make of this, Doc?"

Miriam laughed. "Oh, thank you. No 'good morning, my love, how did you sleep'?"

Kesar looked at his wife and grinned. "Good morning, my love, how did you sleep? Now take a look at what Roth brought in. I could use a second opinion."

Miriam bent over the table and raised her eyebrows. "She found this on Ryushi?"

"Iwa Gorge, she says. And she also said that there were at least twenty more, dead. I've already tried to cut one of the legs with the Killian, and nothing. Not a scratch."

"You're kidding." Miriam searched his face for the joke. "Any carbon-based animal . . ." she trailed off. "Silicon? Couldn't be and even if it was, that would at least have been marked-" She gazed at the specimen in wonder. "What is it, Kesar? You're the DVM."

He shook his head. "I don't know. There was that Terra Nova mutation, and I heard some rumors about a weird life form found in a mining colony somewhere, but somebody clamped down on that, nothing substantiated. We're going to need to run some tests; and I think afterward, I'm going to take a little ride up to the gorge and poke around."

Miriam frowned. "Alone?"

Kesar nodded. He felt wired. This was a totally new species . . .

"One of us should stay in case of any problems with the herding. Anyway, like you just said, I'm the vet, right? If I can find one of these alive-"

"-it could bite you, Kesar. Perhaps you should wait for a few days. Until someone can come with you."

"Right. I need a guard to protect me from this little fist-sized spider. Don't worry, I'll be fine, Miriam." He patted her hand and smiled. "I'll take a net and watch where I put my feet."

He turned his attention back to the specimen even though he was aware she was hovering there, concerned.

"Hmm. The belly looks a lot softer than the legs. I bet I can incise along this plate line. Could you please fetch me the scalpel kit? Oh, and the Menashe saw? I'll peel this critter, one way or another."

She pursed her lips doubtfully but went to get the equipment from storage. He stooped over the alien again, already lost in thought. Miriam was a good doctor and a good spouse, but she worried too much. This creature was the most intriguing thing he'd come across on this planet so far. Hell, that's why he'd gotten into offworld medicine, stuff like this. To have some new and fascinating creature with his own Latinized name hung on it and then studied in biology classes at prestigious universities was perhaps an egotistical wish, but not an immoral one, was it? Why, yes, this is the first of the many unique Life forms discovered by the galactically famous Dr. Kesar Revna. A minor find compared to his later work, of course, but even great men must have beginnings. Let him stand as an example to you all...

He smiled at the fantasy.

How could anyone fear such a unique find?

Besides, the creature was probably as harmless as his fantasy of academic greatness.

Chapter 8

They landed on the parched world in the bottom of a vast ravine, far from where the lou-dte kalei had sown the Hard Meat eggs; they came in cloaked and during light hours, although the Hunt would not begin until after dark. It was all standard procedure; there were some worlds upon which the natives had developed weaponry and would fight for their skins, infected or not. Dachande had not lived long by

being careless on strange terrain, and the planet had not been used for a Hunt so recently that precautions could be discarded. Especially now, because since the yautja's last visit to Hunt here, others had come.

The Soft Meat, bleeding all over the radio bands for all to hear.

It was a shock to find them here. Given his choice, he would hunt the Soft Meat, a thing he had long desired. They were cunning and they shot back. Soft Meat skulls were highly prized, the centerpiece of a warrior's trophy wall. He would challenge them, were it at all possible. But not with a handful of raw and unseasoned would-be warriors. Not only would it be foolish, it was also against the rules of the Hunt. Dachande could almost smell them, the Soft Meat, and he would like nothing better than to test his mettle against them, but he would not, not this time. He had responsibilities, duties, and to cast them aside for his personal satisfaction would be to dishonor his name. So the ship would remain cloaked, any of his party who might venture even remotely close to the oomans would do so in a shiftsuit, and the Soft Meat would never now how lucky they had been. Reluctantly and without explanation, Dachande caused shiftsuit electronics to be issued to the students. Let them wonder what his motivations were-they knew enough not to ask. He would tell the other Blooded of the danger, but there would be no contact with the oomans on this trip. Was an ooman sighted, the Blooded would order the students to shift into camouflage and to avoid contact. A pity, but that was the. way of it. After he finished this training Hunt, his dues would be paid and his application to a Blooded Warrior Only ship would be accepted. Then he would at last get his chance at the oomans. Not here, not now.

In the staging area, the younglings were so ch'hkt-a that they would burn each other if they didn't calm down.

Dachande watched the young males hurriedly don their suits. He stood in the entry and felt the thick anticipation that radiated from them in their frenzied movements. It never failed to please him, to see the young so eager to spill first thwei.

There would be a short practice outside of the ship to test the world's gravity while Warkha scanned for anything unexpected-it was killing nothing other than time, a chance to wear the edge off of the young males' hyper-enthusiasm. Too, the Hard Meat would also be more active after the suns dropped. It was hardly sport to shoot a target curled up asleep.

Dachande turned and walked through the corridor toward the front of the ship. As Leader, he would be the first to set foot on the Hunting grounds, a pleasure that rumbled deep in his gut.

This would be a good Hunt, oomans not, withstanding.

Noguchi took her second shower of the day in the early evening, as twilight fell over Prosperity Wells. It had been a hard day but a good one; all of the herds had been penned except for one of Cho's and that one was on its way.

She stood in front of the holo-mirror in the green linen suit she had worn on her first day in Ryushi and smiled at her wind-burned complexion. After only a few days outside, her face had begun to take on the look of a rancher's. She liked it; it was the appearance of a person who didn't mind hard work, even though she had to innoculate herself against skin cancers and had run a small fever from the vaccine for most of a day.

The Chigusa staff had been setting up tables and portable roasting pits near the shield wall when she had gone to shower and change, but she was surprised at the crowd that had gathered in her short absence. She stepped out of her building and was nearly run over by a group of giggling children. Not

many of those here, children, but some.

The scent of grilled rhynth steaks carried to her along with the sounds of people talking and laughing. Ranchers and their spouses walked past, hand in hand, all headed toward the landing pad. Noguchi joined them.

Hiroki was easy to spot amid the ranchers in his dark dress suit; he stood near the loading ramp, drink in hand. He returned her wave and wove his way through the crowd to meet her.

"You look lovely, Machiko-san."

"Thank you. You look very nice yourself." She gazed wonderingly at the mass of people all around. "Is every person on the planet here?"

"Just about. A few of the staff are watching screens in ops, but other than that . . ."

Noguchi smiled. "A hundred people in one place is now a mob to me. Funny, how perspectives change."

Hiroki nodded. "It is. And I'm glad to see them enjoying themselves. This is their first roundup, everything they've worked for, for three years."

Noguchi looked around at the ranchers, relaxed and mingling in the open compound. It was impossible not to pick up on the mood of excitement and accomplishment. Someone had even fed music over the public address system; couples danced in the deepening dusk while their children ran and played through the streets.

"Come on, let's go greet the ship," said Hiroki. "It's due any minute."

She followed him through the dancing crowd toward the antenna tower. "The home office called," she said mildly. "They've approved the price hike for the ranchers."

Hiroki raised his eyebrows and smiled at her. "Good work, boss."

"Where are we headed, anyway? Wouldn't the best place be"

"The tower is the only place to watch a landing." Hiroki stopped in front of the runged ladder that ran up one side of the transmitting structure and rested one hand on the lowest step.

"Can that thing support both of us?" Noguchi looked at the ladder doubtfully.

"Let's find out, shall we?"

They scaled one story and hit the first landing, then slowly climbed the stairs to the top, five floors up. There was a moderate, warm breeze blowing, and Noguchi looked down to see the miniature people milling about in the night air.

It was easy to forget the pressures of work on such an occasion. Pleasant memories from long ago ran through her head, Nakama festivals with her parents, walks through bonsai forests that made her feel like a giant.

A low rumbling began, somewhere in the sky. The people below watched the clouds for movement.

Noguchi looked up to see the ship, and even so far away, she could tell it was big. Huge. It was hard for her mind to grasp such a gigantic object in the air. She had seen craft like it before, of course-but this one was bigger than the entire rec center and op building combined. It had pusher vents easily twenty meters long and half as wide on either side; there were three loading docks in front, each big enough to admit four rhynth side by side; giant air-pushers swept a benign wind over the crowd as the ship rumbled toward the landing pad.

With a roar that drowned out all other sound, The Lector settled gently. It was quite a trick to land such a tub in atmosphere; the aerodynamics were hardly conducive to such things. The shield wall protected the complex from most of the engine wash, but the sudden gale that hit all of them was enough to whip up dresses and hair and a considerable haze of dust. As the thunder dwindled slowly, Noguchi heard a chorus of laughter and hand clapping.

It was a magnificent spectacle, The Lector come to roost. Well, part of the ship anyway. The rest was still in orbit.

A hand landed on her shoulder. Hiroki. He grinned at her.

"Down to the final klick, eh? Let's go introduce ourselves to the crew."

They started toward the stairs, Hiroki leading. Noguchi cast one last look at the ship and thought about what he had said, the final kilometer. In spite of the mood of the evening, she had felt a chill at his words. Odd.

She brushed the ominous speculation aside and went to join the party.

Scott and Tom stepped off the ramp together into Prosperity Wells. For some reason, the mass of people assembled to greet them was a relief to Scott, although he wasn't sure why. Other crew members filed out past them to shake hands and chat with the ranchers and their families.

"Hey, we're celebrities, man, check it out," Tom mumbled.

Scott smirked. It was true; the locals had gathered around each of The Lector's crew with smiles and backslaps.

"Guess they don't get out much," Scott whispered.

A tall, husky man, about forty TS, with a red beard and a grin stepped toward them. He held out two cups of beer to the pilots. "Ackland's the name," he said, extending his large hand. Tom shook it, then Scott. "I'm head of the local ranchers association. How was your trip, Captains-?"

"Strandberg," said Tom. "But just call me Tom. This is my copilot, Scott Conover. The trip was fine."

"Nice to meet you, sirs. Hope you and your crew are ready to party; we got some nice steaks on the grill-" Ackland leaned closer and lowered his voice. "And we got some fine young ladies looking for dance partners, I'll bet. That is, if you're inclined that way-"

Scott grinned. "You bet. Tom here was starting to look pretty good near the last leg of the trip, if you know what I mean."

Ackland chuckled, a forced and overly jovial sound, and clapped Scott on the back. "I thought so," he started. "You know, I was-"

"Can I have your attention, please?" A short Japanese woman in a green suit stood on a chair a few meters away, a dinner tray in hand. "Can I have everyone's attention, please?"

She was pretty, that one. Scott looked her up and down. Nice legs, nice butt. A little shy in the breast department, but Scott had seen worse.

"Who's the babe?" he said quietly to Ackland. Tom elbowed him in the gut. Damn feminist.

"You mean bitch," Ackland replied. "Nitrogen queen. That's the boss."

"I know you're all anxious for the festivities to begin, but first I have an important announcement." The crowd calmed as everyone turned to look at her.

"Loading will proceed as follows-Ackland, you're first on deck. Harrison's next, followed by Luccini and Marianetti. The rest of the assignments will be handed out tomorrow at dusk." She paused, then smiled.

"One more thing. The company gave their answer on the price adjustment-you'll be getting the increase you requested. Enjoy the party, everyone."

She stepped off the chair to the sounds of scattered clapping and hoots of excitement.

"Go figure," said Ackland. "Maybe she's good for something after all."

Scott took a long gulp of beer and then laughed. "I could think of a few other things she might be good

at."

Tom rolled his eyes, and Ackland shook his head. "I wouldn't try it. Noguchi probably doesn't uncross her legs to take a shit, you know?"

"Too bad," mumbled Tom. He wandered off.

Scott took another slug and belched softly. "Takes all kinds, right?" he said, and looked into his cup. Not bad for a local brew. He picked out the Japanese woman again and studied her smile as she talked to some rancher woman. Ackland was babbling something about the weather, but Scott watched Noguchi.

Dust ball it was, but the place wasn't a lost cause. He swigged more beer and turned his attention back to Ackland. Anything could happen in three days, no matter what the rancher said. Hell, nitrogen was his specialty . . .

Noguchi walked toward the ops center, the party in full swing behind her. It was definitely a success, in more ways than one. A few of the ranchers had warmed toward her after the announcement, and she had kept up a steady patter of innocuous conversation for at least two hours. Nice people. And she had been doing a good job of nodding and smiling

Although one day doesn't undo six months of stupidity, Machiko.

Right. But it was a start. It had finally hit home that Hiroki would be leaving with The Lector. A vague sadness had come over her, along with a desire to be alone for a little while. He was perhaps her only friend . . .

She walked into operations to see only one person manning the screens.

"Collins, right?" she said hopefully.

The young man nodded and stood up.

"Go join the party, okay? I'll watch things here for a while."

Collins's eyes widened. "Really? Thanks, Ms. Noguchi."

"It's just Machiko from now on." She smiled at him and moved by so that he could pass.

"Uh, okay," he said. "Machiko." He sounded uncomfortable with her first name but he smiled back. He started to walk out and then turned.

"Oh, listen-when Doc Revna gets back, tell him the home office received his report. It's in the tray with his notes."

Noguchi frowned. She had seen Fem Doc at the party, but Revna hadn't been around, had he? "Gets back from where?" she said.

"Said he was going up to Iwa Gorge to look for something," he said. "He signed out a hover bike a couple of hours ago."

"Today? Bad timing," she said.

"Yeah, that's what I said." Collins shrugged. "But he said it was important. Listen, thanks again."

After he had left, Noguchi sat at the console and gazed at the radar, lost in thought. She hadn't expected much from Hiroki at the beginning, but he had been unfailingly patient with her. His professionalism was top-notch; it would be sad to see him leave . . .

She shook her head and glanced around for something to take her mind off of Hiroki. Doc Revna's report lay in a basket nearby, but she hesitated picking it up. What if it were private information-?

Then he wouldn't have let Collins send it, he would've done it himself.

Brilliant. She picked up the stack of hard copy and leaned back in her chair. What the hell was in Iwa Gorge, anyway? She liked the doc, he was a smart man. She leafed through the papers and settled down to read, with a silent wish for Revna to find whatever it was he was looking for . . .

Kesar trained his binoculars on the sight at the bottom of the gorge and inhaled sharply. His heart hammered in his chest and his hands shook. It was incredible. It was unbelievable.

A dozen or so humanoids stood surrounding a large craft, the likes of which he had never seen. The

ship looked like a cross between a fish and a huge engine tube, it was tinted a strange greenish hue, with a broad ramp set into the ground.

The humanoids were tall; he couldn't be sure because of nothing to show relative size, and the scaler in his scope was malfunctioning, but he would guess two and a half meters, maybe a little more. More amazing, they appeared to be carrying . . . spears.

Revna had stopped halfway down into the gorge, had parked his bike near some rocks twenty meters behind him or so. The adrenaline in his system was screaming at him to go back to the flyer, now. Big aliens with spears did not seem like the kind of folks you wanted to meet by yourself in the middle of the desert. But he couldn't stop looking at the amazing sight.

He hit the full magnification button and the creatures zoomed closer. Tall, muscular, definitely armed. Still too far away to get a good view and it was also too bad the scope's scaler was out of whack, he wanted to get a size on them.

Whatever they were, they were definitely not human. Now here was a discovery that would get his name in the books. Not just a new species of spider or crab, but sentient aliens!

He watched for another half minute. What were they doing here? What were they? A hundred questions formed and tried to rise all at once. Incredible.

He licked his lips and focused on one of the alien faces. Some kind of mask it wore, like the others. Breathing gear?

He would go back to town, get some of the ranchers, some photo equipment-

Kesar blinked. One of the creatures turned and looked at him. It threw back its head, its long, odd braids fell back. A long, crazy howl filled the canyon, echoed off of the cliffs, and beat at his ears, joined by others.

Impossible, he was mostly hidden from view, and he could hardly see them with the scope. They couldn't see him.

But they did. He knew for sure in a second.

When they ran toward him, waving their spears, screaming.

Chapter 9

Dachande spun, tusks flared, as the cries of his brood vibrated through the gorge. Sounds of challenge, of aggression. His gaze followed the path of the running yautja to a place in the rocks where

Ooman!

Warkha spoke behind him, but the words were swallowed in the frenzy. Dachande gave orders without looking.

"Tell Skemte to prepare flight and gather those you can! Ki'cte! n

He ran, blade in hand. The Hunt would have to be aborted, but the ooman would die first. There was no other way. Dachande cursed mentally and ran faster.

He was almost to the rocks when the noise of a craft starting hit him.

Damn! If the ooman got away, it would bring others!

He saw that at least two of the students had already made it to the place he was headed, Chulonte and another, he couldn't tell-

The small flying craft came over the rise and struck Chulonte at chest level.

A single ooman manned the ship, was balanced clumsily at the controls, hair swept back from an ugly, pale face.

Chulonte scrabbled at the craft to hold on, but the ooman ran the flyer close to a rock face. Chulonte's skull cracked against the cliff and he fell suddenly boneless to the ground, the mint gray-green of his brain tissue mixed with the darker phosphor-green of his blood splattered on the stone.

Cjit! The Hunt had not even begun and already he had lost a student. Damn!

The ooman's craft was turned by the collision. It roared and swerved past Dachande and headed straight for their ship, the ooman's intentions unknown.

The Leader ran back toward the ship. He screamed the death cry to all: kill the ooman!

It would pay with its life for the death of Chulonte.

Revna ran to his bike, his stomach an empty hole. Stark terror made him fumble the starter. His hands shook uncontrollably.

"Start, please, oh, please, start, start-" He heard his own voice and for a moment it sounded as if it belonged to someone else.

The cycle roared to life. Relief rushed through him, cool and welcome. He stepped on the accelerator, hard, thinking only of escape.

And he flew directly into them. He topped the rock formation, his thoughts clouded with panic; turn, turn, turn, fool-

One of the creatures leapt up in front of him. He tried to swerve, but it was too late. The impact jarred him from his seat; he would have fallen except for the reflexive grab at the handles. The alien was huge; Revna caught a whiff of some musky, bitter oil. Its screech was one of pain and fury. It grabbed for him.

Without thinking, Revna veered toward a cliff wall. The screaming thing smacked into the rocks, hard, and then was gone. He tried to regain control of the scooter but the impact had thrown him into a turn. And the controls were damaged, he couldn't turn, the flier responded sluggishly.

ALL right, don't panic, it's okay. He would have to use speed to get past them, have to go so fast they couldn't catch him, couldn't spear him-

Another of the creatures reached for him, but he passed it. Revna smashed on the accelerator all the way forward as a blast of incredible heat blew by him. He ducked, felt his facial hair singe.

The craft didn't want to alter its course. He was going to pass right next to the ship.

Altitude, he had to get high enough so they couldn't grab him!

The repellors still worked, he managed to trim the elevators and start to climb. Five meters, seven, still heading right at the ship but he would clear it-

Another blast of heat, this one splashed the underside of the flier, cooked plastic and metal. The repellors coughed and the craft dropped a meter, sputtered.

That was no spear! They've got guns! Lasers, plasma rifles, Jesus!

He raised his watering eyes just in time to see that he was headed for the alien craft at high speed and that -he wasn't going to clear it.

He was going to hit it dead center--Miriam--It was his last thought before the world turned to fire.

Dachande saw the ooman fly at the ship and he ran faster. Most of the students were clear, but at that speed, an impact could cause damage, big damage

The tiny flier smashed into the ship and blew apart in a fireball that shattered both craft. A second later came another blast, bigger than the first. Flame and debris sprayed, scorched rocks, moved boulders, knocked over delicate formations that had stood undisturbed for millions of years. Huge chunks of burning ship flew through the gully as the hunters were blown to the ground by the blast.

After a moment Tichinde stood and looked around at his fallen peers. He waited to hear direction from the Leader, but there were no instructive cries.

Other yautja rose to their feet, dazed. Small pools of mi burned, their flickerings reaching into the dusk, carrying in their fumes the smells of ash and soil and oily death.

The Leader had fallen not far from Tichinde. Several of the others stumbled with him to where Dachande lay.

The Leader was barely alive, his mandibles caked with thwei. Wreckage had hit him, knocked him into dhi'kide, the sleep near death.

A quick survey showed them that Warkha, too, was dead, and the other Blooded had been on the ship that still burned and smoked and looked now like nothing so much as a gutted crab. No one would be leaving this world on that vessel. And it would be weeks, months, years perhaps, before anybody came to look for them Not good.

When all of the students alive had gathered around Dachande, Tichinde counted. Ten of them. No

transport and no elder to tell them what would happen. "What will we do?" From 'Aseigan. "Dachande still breathes," said Gkyaun. "We could-"

"You are a medic?" Tichinde snorted. "He is beyond the aid kits, look at him. Let him die honorably of his wounds, wounds sustained in battle." He waved at the smoking ship. "The ooman deliberately attacked us and killed our ship. Therefore, we will kill the oomans, that is what we will do. Dachande lives but his time is short."

Aseigan growled. "Who proclaimed you Leader?" His voice was thick with contempt. "You will not lead me. And Hunting Soft Meat is forbidden to unBlooded, even a fool such as you knows this."

Tichinde grinned and pointed his burner at the yautja. 'Aseigan took a step toward him, arms high.

Tichinde fired.

The blast blew Aseigan against a pile of smoking rock. The others leapt back in surprise.

"Others dispute?" Tichinde swung the burner in a circle. "I will spill your thwei as easily as I do that of the ooman dogs later! This is not a Hunt, as that dead slave-to-rules thought, but self-defense. We are allowed to defend ourselves from attack, are we not?" Once again he waved at the ruins of their ship.

None of the nine disagreed. They watched him warily, hands close to their own burners. There was a long moment when a Challenge might have come, when one of the nine might have taken it upon himself to raise his burner and try him, but that moment passed. If another would be Leader, he would have made his move and none did.

Tichinde smiled. They would follow him, reluctantly or not.

He raised his staff to the sky and screamed of revenge. When Gkyaun returned from the wreck and handed him the smoldering ooman skull a moment later, Tichinde crushed it with bare claw to the approving hisses of the others. It had killed itself and bravely in the doing, so it could not be a proper trophy. But there would be others to be earned.

The yautja chanted and howled their approval into the night. Tichinde sent them to scavenge for whole weapons and armor.

They were stuck here. So be it. The oomans would be sorry they dared attack the yautja. Sorry they dared to cross blades with Tichinde.

Very sorry.

Chapter 10

The disparity in ratio between the smooth-backed specimens and the single carcass with dorsal spines not withstanding, I believe the differences between the two types represent sexual indicators-not of the specimens themselves, but of the zygote or "egg" that each carries. As stated above, none of the specimens is equipped for independent life, their sole purpose seems to be nothing more than that of a

living delivery vehicle-an ambulatory penis, if you will.

Noguchi tapped her cigarette without looking at the tray and skimmed back to the top of the page, totally absorbed. This is what Revna had gone after? Why hadn't he told anyone? Why hadn't he told

her?

While it is risky to postulate so much from such a tiny sample, we need to know as much as possible about these specimens as quickly as possible. If my assumptions are correct, or even near the mark, we're dealing with only one stage of this organism. The hybrid silicon-carbon cell construction would lead-

'Ambulatory penis,' huh? Conjures quite an image, don't it?"

Noguchi jumped in her chair and turned quickly, heart pounding. A tall man with blond hair and beard stood there, grinning. He swayed slightly on his feet; from the smell of him, he had been drinking. A lot.

She stood and backed away a step. "You're from The Lector, right?"

The stranger took a step closer. "Hell, I fly that bucket!" He belched softly. "Scuse me. Scott Conover atcher service."

Noguchi smiled but inched back a little more. His intentions weren't exactly clear but one thing was . . . "You're drunk, Mr. Conover."

"Yeah, but not too drunk, if you know what I mean. You're Ms. Nogooshi. I've been watching you-" "It's Noguchi," she said coolly. "And you can call me ma'am."

Conover laughed and reached out to take her hand. Noguchi tried to pull away, but the pilot gripped her wrist tightly. He leaned close, his alcohol breath moist and pungent. "I heard about what a tough lady you were, the company ramrod, right?" His words slurred together slightly.

The drunken pilot tried to pull her hand down to his crotch. "I got your ramrod right here, ma'am," he stage-whispered.

Noguchi narrowed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Scott couldn't find the Jap girl anywhere; he wandered around - for a while and eventually he heard some guy say that she was watching screens.

"Operations," he said to no one in particular, and stumbled in that direction.

The door was open. He was torn between the desire to march right in and woo the woman and the desire to piss, which had gotten pretty overwhelming He compromised and peed on the entry frame before his imminent conquest.

She was reading some kind of porn hard copy, he could see that much. Damn, but she was fine! He imagined that small mouth all over him, on his dick and she wanted it, too, he could tell.

They did the small talk thing for a minute or two and she told him she was into being dominant 'call me ma'am'-and the little vixen played chase, backing up, her cheeks flushed with desire.

And he reached out to touch her, to put her hand on his ready-and-willing equipment-and then he wasn't sure what happened.

He must have tripped

Noguchi grabbed his arm above the elbow with her free hand and hooked one foot behind his. She twisted, pushing up and over at the same time, and the pilot went down. She jumped back and struck a ready pose, left foot forward, fists made. It had happened so fast, she was barely aware that she had done it.

The drunk groaned loudly; he didn't get up. Noguchi relaxed slightly, but kept her distance. Another man stepped into the room, dark-haired, wearing glasses.

"Scott?" He looked down and moved immediately to the fallen man. "Jesus, what happened?" He stared. up at Noguchi, at her fighting stance; realization dawned on his face.

"You next?" Adrenaline still pumped through her system.

The drunk's friend stood, hands in the air. "No, no, I was just coming to tell you that the ship is loaded and that we'll be making our first shuttle run as soon as the inspectors give the rhynth a clean bill of health-" He spoke all at once, in a rush, but seemed to catch himself.

Noguchi nodded. "You'd better have them check out this pilot, too." She looked down at Conover and frowned. "Especially his judgment."

"I'm Tom Strandberg, ma'am. I'm sorry about this, he's the designated drinker on this run." As the man spoke, he bent down and tried to help Conover to his feet. He grinned sheepishly. "Tomorrow it'll be my

turn."

With a grunt of effort, Strandberg stood up, Conover half over one shoulder.

"Your turn to drink or your turn to get some of what I gave him?" Noguchi spoke sharply; she knew that none of this was Strandberg's fault, but damn him for excusing his friend so lightly; attempted rape wasn't particularly funny.

Strandberg edged toward the door with his heavy load. "Look, I'll make sure he doesn't bother you again, okay?"

It seemed to be the perfect cue. Conover raised his head slightly. "Damn bitch," he mumbled, and nodded back out.

Strandberg carried the other pilot out without another word.

Noguchi sax back in her chair and felt her heart slow down little by little. If she didn't receive a formal apology the next morning, she would file a complaint with the company.

Maybe I'll do that anyway. Conover certainly didn't deserve anything less, of I-got-your-ramrod-right-here.

She surprised herself by laughing out loud. How classically dumb male. Did they teach lines like that in

Neanderthal 101?

Noguchi picked up the papers she had been reading, a smile still on her face. Well, it had broken the tension she'd been feeling.

After she'd read the same paragraph three times, she sighed and put the report down. This was important stuff, but she couldn't seem to regain her concentration after the rush of adrenaline that idiot's advances had created. Besides, it was late. Revna must have gone to the party or just gone home.

She stood, stretched, and yawned. Maybe she wasn't so very out of martial arts' practice after all. She had tossed him without thinking about it. It came back quick enough when she'd needed it.

She made sure that the recorders were all on and pulled her jacket off the back of the chair. She would talk to Revna tomorrow about these "specimens"; from the sound of it, there might be some crucial things going on out at Iwa Gorge-and it was her job to know about it.

It was dark and hot. The smell of burned materials worked its way into that darkness, and with the scent came pain.

Dachande opened his mouth to scream at the young males to fall in line, but nothing happened. He sensed no movement, no sound of the students came to him. He tried to lift one arm to clear his vision, but nothing happened. Only heat and blackness and faraway pain.

And then only dark.

Scott hurt. He rolled his head and opened his eyes, but closed them again immediately. The whole fuckin' planet was spinning. And there was an earthquake or something.

What planet?

"Wha' the fuck?" he mumbled. He opened his eyes again.

"Back to the land of the living?" Tom's face swam into view next to him. They were riding a small cart outside, back to the ship-the earthquake was the rumbling motor. On Ryushi. The Lector. Cowboys.

Japanese babe

Scott focused on Tom's face. "Nogooshi," he said. It was coming back.

Tom grinned. "Scott, you're plowed. Apparently you tried to have sex with the head of the company here, a very capable woman who knocked the shit out of you before you got around to figuring out she wasn't interested." He paused for a second and then added, "And if you ask me, you're lucky she didn't rip your dick off and feed it to you."

"Great," said Scott. He closed his eyes, exhausted. "Nice to have you on my side, ol buddy ol pal."

Scott was almost asleep when the cart stopped. He growled and pulled himself upright. They were back at The Lector.

"Need help?"

"No. Fucking Judas." He got out of the cart okay, but discovered that his legs weren't particularly interested in staying straight. Tom grabbed one of his arms and pulled it over his own shoulder. Scott leaned on him heavily.

"Yeah, okay." He shuffled along next to Tom as they walked onto the second loading ramp. "She can't treat me like that, you know."

"Maybe you want to go back and tell her that," Tom said. "What's with the lights? Prindle's team is getting sloppy, maintenance is going to hell-"

Scott sighed. "Fuck the lights. But you know what I mean, right? I mean, I'm a goddamned star-pilot, you know?" On top of the humiliation of it all, he was getting a huge headache.

Tom leaned him up against a wall. "Hang on a sec, let me get a light."

Scott went on. "Who the fuck does she think she is, you know?" He stared at the floor. Goddamn rhynth all over the place, looked like one of them had thrown up on the floor. He toed the puddle of wet, mucusy goo with one foot and then looked away quickly; that was enough to make his stomach pretty damn unhappy.

"She's corporate," said Tom. "She pulled rank on you." He re-appeared holding a flashlight and reached out to steady Scott with his free arm.

"That's not all she pulled," said Scott glumly. "I think my back is broken or something."

"Who in the hell left this hatch open?" Tom stepped forward and shined the light into the dark rhynth pen.

"You're not listening to me." Scott leaned back on the wall. Fuck the hatch

"Hey, Ackland warned you, right?" Tom's voice had taken on an echo-like quality. He had walked into the pen.

With the last of his coordination, Scott followed him, narrowly missing a renegade doorway. Rhynth puke everywhere.

Tom continued. "But you Wouldn't listen, no. You just had to go mess with the queen-"

Tom stopped short. The flashlight hit the floor and a low hiss filled the room, coming from all around.

Scott shook his head and followed Tom's gaze. There were four. Or seven. Or twenty. A flurry of horrible images: long, dark skulls and dripping razor teeth. Gigantic, black, all arms and legs and spiny tails, hissing. Moving forward.

Reaching toward them-

Chapter 11

There was darkness. Not with the cold that she had once associated with the black hours, not with a sense of night or time. It was a stifling darkness that echoed with soft, wet sounds of rhythmic movement-the insistent pulse of body against body, but far from any act of love. It was the black of a huge machine, steadily devouring light, continually working, thrumming. Eating. Building toward the inevitable scream. The darkness was the dragon, calling her name, calling its prey, and there was no escape...

"Machiko?"

Light blared, loud and unwanted. Noguchi started, sat up. She rubbed her eyes. "What-?" Hiroki stood in her doorway, his hand on the control panel. The .darkness machine, insatiable...

She shook her head. "I had a dream . . . Hiroki. What time is it?"

"Almost noon." Hiroki smiled apologetically. "I know you were up late last night, sorry to disturb you-"

"What is it?" Noguchi felt the last of the dream slip away as her eyes adjusted to the brightness. She was suddenly aware that she wore only an undershirt, and a tight one at that.

"Doc Revna still hasn't returned, and Mrs. Doc is starting to worry. I've sent out a crew in the copter to search for him, but I thought it would be best if the staff saw that you were in on this, too."

Noguchi nodded. "Thank you, Hiroki. You're right. Give me two minutes to get dressed."

Hiroki averted his eyes politely as she walked to the 'fresher to splash water on her face. Revna wasn't back? He'd been gone-fifteen or sixteen hours, at least. Too long.

She dressed quickly and rinsed her mouth with water. In spite of the cool liquid, she felt hot, her eyes sticky and full of sand. Not enough sleep. Noguchi combed through her hair with her fingers and stepped out to meet Hiroki. She glanced longingly at her bed; a nap later, perhaps.

Doc had probably just had some engine trouble; he would know to stay put and wait for help. Hell, the copter was most likely on its way back with Revna already; nothing to worry about.

Except for the darkness.

She shuddered as they reached the door to the building; her dream "You okay?"

Noguchi smiled and gave up on the half-remembered image. "Fine. I just -I dreamed it was hot." Hiroki laughed. "Pure fantasy."

Noguchi smiled again, but felt the shudder deep inside. She hoped the dark feelings were just that, fantasy. She donned her sunglasses and followed Hiroki into the blazing day.

David Spanner had one fuck of a nasty headache. The pressers on the goddamn copter were

incredibly noisy-no, more than that, they were deadly, that was it. He had been sent out because of all of his sins to die by slow torture. Loud torture.

"How about after this we go to the cafe and get some sushi, Spanner? Nice and fresh, maybe the abalone, all squishy and raw, or the octopus-"

"Fuck you very much, Ikeda." Great. Only big party of the year, everyone in town is sleeping it off, and he gets sent to pick up the doc. With the only person in town who wasn't suffering a severe hangover.

His copilot grinned, her smile relaxed and easy. "Or we could have a few cold ones. What do you say? Couple of big frosty quarts of beer, to wash down the snake-roll?"

Spanner scowled. "I could just throw up on you now, save you the trouble of making me."

"No time," she said. "We're almost there."

Ikeda pulled up on the stick as they rounded a cliff and flew into the gorge. Spanner's stomach protested at the sudden dip. He wrapped his arms around his chest and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths.

"You did that on purpose, Ikeda." "Maybe. Help me look, lush."

Spanner shook his head, eyes still closed. "Uh-uh. You look. I'm just here for the fresh air."

They flew without talking for a few minutes, but it was far from silent. The pressers. It was the goddamn age of science, and no one had invented a decent muffler; what were the techs thinking? Spanner considered jumping. At least it would be quiet . . .

"What the fuck?"

Spanner sat up quickly. They had just come over a low cliff, and on the floor of the gorge There had been an explosion, a big one.

Huge metallic arches like the rib cage of a giant stretched up from still-smoldering wreckage. The charred ground around the arches were strewn with large chunks of blackened debris-of what, Spanner couldn't tell.

His hangover was forgotten.

As Ikeda started to set down at the edge of the site, he wished he had thought to bring a weapon more powerful than a rhynth-stick.

"It's a ship, isn't it?" Spanner scanned the gorge side to side. Lots of places to hide . . .

"Yeah, I think so." Ikeda's eye were wide. "Was a ship. But not any human design I recognize."

She shut off the pressers. The sudden silence wasn't so welcome anymore. Spanner gripped his

rhynth-stick tightly.

They got out of the copter carefully and walked toward the burnt-out shell. It was very quiet. Spanner's fear dissolved into awe as they neared the towering arcs. It was

"Incredible," Ikeda said softly.

Spanner nodded. And from the smell of it, the fire had been recent. Like yesterday, maybe.

"This thing you ever heard of anything like this?"

Spanner looked at her. Ikeda kicked at a chunk of the odd substance.

"Never." She turned and started to poke through the rubble.

"Think of what this means, Ikeda! We're talking intelligent life here, not just some new strain of amoeba! This could be the first real proof, you know?" His brain kicked in to overdrive. Fucking wow!

"Think of the new information! If we could figure out who made this ship, could figure out some way to test this material-" He trailed off, mind alive with the possibilities.

"Why don't you just ask him?"

Spanner twisted around to see Ikeda crouched down by a fallen figure. He stepped closer. "Doc-?" And stopped short.

It wasn't human. Some sort of armored animal, but humanoid form-except this thing was big. Spanner himself stood a little under two meters, and he was probably the tallest man in Prosperity Wells. This guy had half a meter on him, easy. Jesus fucking Buddha.

"Careful, Ikeda."

"I think it's dead," she said, and then watched the figure for a second. Spanner joined her.

"No, it's breathing," said Spanner. "What the fuck?"

Ikeda shaded her eyes and looked up at him. "You tell me," she said quietly. Her words sounded flat in the hot, dry air.

The initial anxiety he had felt surged back. They were an open target down here. And maybe this guy's friends were nearby . . .

He looked at the steep walls of rock on either side of them and suddenly felt claustrophobic. "Let's get outta here, what say?"

Ikeda nodded and dropped her gaze back to the creature. "Yeah. But help me get him into the copter, first. We'll have to come back to look for Revna later."

They loaded the thing into the copter as quickly as possible considering he weighed about a ton. They did their best to strap him to the stretcher with the human-sized bonds. It was a tight fit. When they finally lifted, Spanner felt relieved. No way was he coming back later unless everybody in town came with him.

On the trip home he kept his eyes open and aimed at their passenger; his headache had crept back, and it pulsed sharply at his temples as the suns beat down hard in piercing shafts of brightness.

Dr. Miriam Revna was an attractive woman even when she was worried. Which she was-in spite of her calm composure, the lines on her brow and the concern in her smile gave her away. Noguchi felt an instant sympathy for the woman; her attempt to maintain cool and continue functioning in spite of her emotions was a state Noguchi was quite familiar with.

"Is there anything you can think of that might help us locate your spouse?" Hiroki said.

Revna walked over to an examination table and motioned for them to join her. "He went to Iwa Gorge to find more of these," she said, and lifted a plastic sheet to expose some kind of spider. Hiroki frowned and stepped closer.

"They're unclassifiable," the doctor continued.

"Their structure bears characteristics of both carbon-based and silicon-based life forms." Noguchi nodded. "Yes, I read the report. But what made him decide to look all the way up in Iwa

Gorge?"

Revna smiled weakly. "That's where she said she'd found them." " 'She'?" Noguchi and Hiroki almost spoke in unison.

The doctor nodded. "Jame Roth. The young woman who works for Ackland."

"Thank you for your time," Noguchi said. "We will contact you as soon as we know anything, Dr. Revna." She smiled warmly and touched the older woman's hand. "I'm sure everything will be fine."

They walked into the searing heat together and started toward the garage.

"What would Roth be doing at Iwa Gorge?" Hiroki said. "Ackland doesn't have any herds within twenty klicks of there."

"Those things weren't found in Iwa Gorge, Hiroki." Of course! It was obvious once she thought about

it.

"What?" Hiroki stopped to look at her.

"Think about it. If you were Ackland and you found some new life form the night before the roundup, would you risk having three years' profit tied up in quarantine? No. You'd say the creature was discovered far from where your herd was pastured."

"But why would he report it at all? The things we saw might not be any threat to rhynth. I mean, if they were like ticks or something, they'd be easy to spot."

Noguchi felt a spark of anger deep in her gut. "To cover his ass. Say his rhynth do come down with

some disease. Maybe the crab things are carriers, they bite an animal and infect it. He's done his duty, right? He reported it, even though they were found a long way from his animals."

Hiroki nodded thoughtfully. "So do we talk to Ackland first, or Roth?"

"Roth. She'd be more likely to admit to something like this than Ackland. Besides, if we go to Ackland first, he might bribe her to stay quiet before we can get to her."

Hiroki smiled appreciatively. "Good thinking, Machiko.

Noguchi barely heard him. "If anything has happened to Kesar Revna, Ackland will be sorry," she said softly. "He sent the doc to chase dust up there. He could have had an accident, hurt himself, and that's a long way from help."

After the ooman craft left, Tichinde and the others moved back to the smashed and burned wreckage to see what they had done.

M'icli-de had wanted to kill them, but Tichinde had held them back; he had a better idea.

Dachande was gone. He'd been dead already, of course, but the oomans were h'ulij-bpe, crazy. In a way, it was fitting. The oomans had taken the old Leader, had left him to be the new one: He was a warrior now, Aseigan had been his first kill. And so he would Lead them to their first Hunt. Later, he would Blood himself, design his own mark, and etch it in place with Hard Meat thwei; and he would also mark the other students as his own.

The ooman craft had surely gone in the direction of their dwellings; and if not, it did not matter. They would go and find the ugly small ones wherever they might be. It was only a matter of how long it would take, and that was not a concern.

They had nothing if not plenty of time.

Chapter 12

Math sucked, and it sucked hard; if Bobby Sheldon had children someday, he would see to it that they never had to do fractions if they didn't feel like it. Because fractions sucked worse than anything. In fact, they sucked shit.

"Bobby?"

He jerked around in his chair and flushed slightly at the sound of his mother's voice. The s-word was totally unallowed, even if he'd only thought about it.

"Yeah?"

"Finish what you're on and go wash up for lunch. You can do the rest later, okay?" Bobby nodded at his mom. "'Kay"

He looked back at the screen and sighed. One-tenth of ten was one. So three-sevenths of twenty was.

Stupid. Why the hell did he have to know this anyway? He tapped the save control and went to wash his hands. He was going to be a rancher, and what rancher needed to know fractions? His dad said that they came in handy for counting heads, but his dad was a rancher and so fax as Bobby could tell, Dad had never used that shit.

Bobby walked back into the living room of their small house and looked out the window for Dad. Tomorrow was school day, which he looked forward to as usual; not that class was so great, but it was the only time of the week he got to hang out with the guys. They lived too far out of town for him to go every day, like some of the other kids. Although he'd gone to see the ship come in last night, that'd been cool. He had played spy-tag with Dal and Alan and Hung and eaten about a ton of banana popsicles

Bobby heard his dad before he saw him. Actually, he heard Dax first; the terrier always sounded like a bike out of fuel after a morning's work. Dax padded into view a few seconds before his father and headed straight for the water dish at the side of the house.

"Hey, how's the best eleven-year-old in the world?" Bob Senior opened the door in a blast of hot air and smiled at Bobby. The joke was old, but Bobby grinned; he was the only eleven-year-old on the whole planet, at least for another month. And then Hung's sister, Ri, would have a birthday. Stupid girl.

"What's for lunch, hon?" Dad stood in the doorway and patted his thigh. "C'mon, Daxter, we don't have all day." Dax hurried inside and Dad shut the door against the simmering heat.

Mom walked into the room and smoothed her short blond hair down. She was pretty for a mom, although she was old, at least thirty-six or so. She smiled at Dad and kissed him on his cheek.

"Tuna casserole."

"Tuna! Where'd you get tuna?"

"I traded some of our jerky for three cans of it from one of The Lector's crew." She sounded pleased with herself.

"Good deal. Maybe tomorrow when you take Bobby in, you can see what else you can get."

Bobby followed them into the dining room and listened to them talk about their days. Dad's boss, Mr. Cho, was going to give him a raise; Mom still wanted to build another room onto their small house, a reading room. And there was a rumor that some of the rhynth had contracted a virus of some kind, although none of Cho's got sick.

"It's probably just talk," his father said. "Like that thing about the flies last year. That had everyone going crazy, until the doc declared the whole thing a farce."

"I heard the doc was missing," Mom called from the kitchen. "One of Chigusa's people called this morning to tell us to keep our eyes open. He may have been near the gorge . . ."

She carried a steaming dish into the room and set it on the table. Bobby felt his mouth water; they mostly ate meat and canned vegetables.

"This looks great. Yeah, I heard the same thing, but they've already sent out a copter, probably found him by now. I'll check later, but I doubt they'll need any more help."

Mom spooned the casserole onto their plates. Dax ran into the room and started to whine.

"Hey, no chance, Daxter! You'll get yours later." Dad reached for the water pitcher.

Dax whined louder and went to the front door. Dad sighed and pushed back from the table. "Good timing, Dax; why couldn't-- "

He stopped short as Dax growled at the door, teeth bared.

Bobby stood. "What is it, boy? What's the matter?"

Dax continued to growl, and then barked, the sound deep and fierce.

"Bob?" Bobby's mother wore a look of concern. Bobby started around the table, but his dad motioned him back. Dax barked again.

"One of those damned briar-wolves again," his father said, and went to the door. "I thought we'd gotten 'em all." He picked up the carbine that they kept by the coat rack and checked it. And then opened the door.

"Sic 'em, Dax!"

Dax ran outside full speed, his barking a continuous war cry. Dad stepped onto the porch, Bobby and his mother behind him.

Dax stopped in the middle of the yard and circled, growling. He acted like there was something there-but there wasn't. The dog backed away and edged forward, all the time barking and growling at nothing.

Bobby's eyes widened. There was something! A ripple of-dust and light. Dax flickered like he had gone into some kind of magnifier as he circled again.

Bobby felt his mom's hands grip his shoulders.

"Dad? What-?"

"Both of you, in the house, now!"

His mother pulled him backward, but he still watched. And saw as Dax was lifted off of the ground in a gout of blood. A huge beast-a monster!, appeared from out of nowhere, he held the spear stuck into Daxter!

Bobby heard a dull sound like an ax hitting meat. Dax made one short howl of pain and then went quiet.

"Good God-!" his father whispered.

The monster was tall, masked, inhuman. It shook the dead dog on its spear, sent a rain of red to the ground.

"Be careful, Bob!" His mother almost screamed it. Bobby was petrified, unable to look away.

"Dax?" He watched as the monster tossed the dog over its shoulder and turned to face his father.

Dad brought the carbine up and aimed. There was a sudden shift and creak from the roof, like when Dad had patched the tiling, like somebody was up there-

-and a ripple of light and dust plunged into his father's skull. Bobby screamed. Dad reached up to clutch at the now-visible metal claws that had worked into his face-

Mom spun him to face the kitchen. Her breath came in short gasps.

"Run, Bobby!"

"Mommy? Is-"

"Run! We have to get to the truck! Out the back!"

He tripped and sprawled on the floor. His mother pulled him up and shoved him toward the rear door.

There was a giant, splintering crunch from the front porch. Bobby and his mother both turned.

The monster crouched in the doorway.

Impossibly fast, it reached for Mom, grabbed her-

And ripped her throat open.

Once again, the sound of meat being cut.

Warmth dotted Bobby's face, turned his vision to red.

He screamed, "Mom!"

He ran. There was no time to think, only move. The flier outside his parents' room, Daddy had shown him how-

Bobby ducked across the hall and into their bedroom. Without a pause, he ran and jumped through the thin plastic window. There was another scream, his-as the window shattered, and there was the bike, within reach-

He hit the ignition button as if he had ridden a thousand times. The machine roared to life, raised up from the ground-

-and behind him was the sound of some evil bird, screeching, hoarse and piercing. Something touched his shoe, still inside the house-

-and the bike lurched forward, pulled him away. There was another, and another of the murdering creatures, all claws and hate. They came out of nowhere, appearing like magic.

They reached for him-

-and he took off, tilted wildly. He aimed the bike east, toward town.

He kept his sweaty hand jammed to the accelerator. Behind him the things howled and screamed, horrible, horrible, Mom, Dad-

There was a noise like gunfire, but hollow-and the wall of rock in front of him to the left exploded, sharp pieces hammered the bike, stuck into his skin, but it didn't matter, it didn't hurt. And beyond that, Bobby knew nothing.

Tichinde was pleased. True, they had lost one but they had faced the deadly oomans and come away unscathed, with two kills. The escaped one would die soon enough, with the rest. It had surely gone to alert the others; they would have to be prepared . . .

Tichinde watched as the other yautja danced and cried over the victory. He himself had killed the second ooman; it had been without weapon, but as dangerous as he had heard oomans to be, that was allowable. Hunt or be Hunted . . .

Dachande would have disapproved. Tichinde flared his tusks in amusement at the thought. Dachande was thei-de; his opinion no longer held meaning. Besides, with no one to hold judgment over their actions, they would take what they wanted; from what he had seen so far, the oomans were not so dangerous as the yautja had been led to believe.

Chapter 13

Roth cleaned the dirt from under her nails with her teeth. It was a nervous and dirty habit; Cathie was always getting on her case about it. But considering the circumstances at the moment, she didn't really give a flying fuck about biting her nails.

The two heads of Chigusa on, world stood over her small table in the rec center and glowered at her. Creep snuffled blissfully by her feet, probably thrilled to get out of the sun; she wished she felt the same.

"Do you know what charges you could face if Ackland's rhynth turn up infected with dangerous bacteria or a virus?" Hiroki had always been an amiable sort, but his eyes flashed with anger. At her. "And you were responsible for sending them to Earth?"

Roth opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by the Noguchi woman.

"Ms. Roth-if anything has happened to Kesar Revna, you will be held accountable." She leaned toward Roth, expression cold. "How do you feel about that? He's been missing for almost a day now. He might be injured. Or dead."

Roth nodded slowly. She had lied for Ackland, had put her reputation at stake for him-after all, he was the boss. But she wasn't about to get caught holding this bag; it was just a little bit too heavy.

"Ackland told me to," she said quietly. "I realize that doesn't excuse my actions, but I just work for the man, you know?"

Hiroki and Noguchi exchanged glances.

"So Ackland told you to tell Revna that the spider creatures were in Iwa Gorge?" Noguchi leaned forward again, but her eyes weren't as angry as before.

"Right."

"What the hell is going on here?" Roth looked up, surprised.

Ackland marched across the room, his face sweaty and red.

"Roth? What have you done?" Ackland stopped at their table and glared down at her accusingly. "What's this I hear about you lying to Doc Revna?"

Roth felt raw anger hit her system. He was going to let her take the fall, after she'd worked her ass off for him for three years!

What a surprise.

She stood abruptly. "Mr. Ackland, I've already explained the situation. And I quit. I'll expect to be paid within the month." Roth nodded at Noguchi and Hiroki.

"Please let me know if I can help in any way, and contact me about charges as soon as you've decided." She whistled softly; Creep jumped up to follow her to the exit. Already she could hear Ackland's voice raised in a huff.

". . . I thought a man had a right to be present when his accusers were testifying against him!"

She was glad to get out. Ackland talked big, there would be quite a scene-but he had enough sense to know when he was caught. Hiroki was a fair man . . . but Noguchi? Something about her was pure steel.

Roth would hate to cross that one; nitrogen queen was right.

"So you were planning to try me in absentia? Don't you need a judge to hold trial? Or is that some old-fashioned notion-"

"Shut up, Ackland."

Stunned, he did.

"You've violated company policy and jeopardized the security of this complex and its personnel, Ackland. I figure that's all the legal authority I need." Noguchi was royally pissed, but she kept her voice low. This overblown rancher had the gall to try to screw things for everyone and then cover it up?

"You really think you've got the backing to make charges stick? In case you haven't noticed, you aren't exactly the most popular person in this settlement." Ackland was shaken, she could tell, but he smirked at her.

"You're right, I'm just the new boss." She had to make a conscious effort not to shout. "But Doc

Revna has been here since the beginning, treating the ranchers' stock, treating their families-delivering their babies. So far, he's just missing. But if he turns up dead, who do you think folks are going to side with, you? Or his grieving widow?"

Ackland seemed to shrink a little in front of her. He dropped his gaze to the unlit cigar he held and spoke uneasily.

"Look, I didn't expect the doc to go out looking for more of those things-"

Hiroki stepped in. "But if he did, you wanted to make sure he looked in the wrong place."

Ackland flared again, but his anger seemed weak. "We had no way of knowing whether those rhynth were infected or not! I didn't want to delay the whole operation-"

Hiroki frowned angrily and pointed his finger at the rancher's chest. "Didn't it occur to you that trouble with your herd could be the reason The Lector is still parked out front?"

Noguchi raised her eyebrows. "What?"

"I meant to tell you-" Hiroki started, but she was already headed to one of the wall screens. She punched up a southern compound view and looked in disbelief.

"Those rhynth are going to be hell to manage after standing in the sun all day!" She turned to glare accusingly at Ackland. He looked away.

Noguchi tapped into operations. Collins appeared in front of her.

"Collies-why hasn't The Lector taken its first load back to its orbiter?"

"I couldn't say-ah, Machiko. We've been trying to contact them all day, but they haven't responded . .

"Send someone in person." Collins nodded. "I'll go myself."

"Good. And don't waste your time with Conover, talk to Strandberg. Remind him we're on a tight schedule. Report back immediately, okay?"

"Gotcha."

The screen went blank. At least that was taken care of. She walked back to the table where Ackland had sat down, his face blank.

"If this has anything to do with your little lie, Ackland," she said smoothly, calmly, "I'll see to it that you are put away for it. Until hell freezes solid."

The look in his eyes, defeated and guilty, was exactly what she wanted.

Scott ached all over. It was the hangover, and that Japanese woman, she was responsible

Except he couldn't move his arms. And he was standing up-?

He opened his heavy eyelids and blinked several times. It was dark, but he was inside; there was weak light coming from somewhere . . .

"Tom?" His voice was a raspy croak. God, he was thirsty! He cleared his throat and tried again.

"Tom. Can you hear me?"

No answer. Was he in a med center, maybe? There might have been some kind of accident . . .

He took a deep breath and spoke as loud as he could. "Hello! Where am I? Tom!" His throat protested; it felt like he'd swallowed a bucket of sand.

A slow hissing filled the room. The shadows in the room moved, unfurled themselves from the walls and the dark corners. He could make out

Teeth.

Jesus!

He tried to move, but his arms were pinned. "Oh, God, no-" His voice was barely a whisper.

The room swam with darkness, and then once again, there was nothing.

". . . the company has billions invested in this project," she continued. "Where the hell do you get off fucking with us? Not to mention possibly endangering the lives of millions, maybe billions of people? You think the quarantine laws are there just for the fun of it?" She was still on a roll and unwilling to doppler down.

Ackland hadn't spoken for several minutes. Neither had Hiroki.

"Well?"

Ackland looked up at her and said nothing.

The tension was broken by an incoming message over Noguchi's com. "Ms. Noguchi, report to the med center immediately. Ms. Noguchi to the med center." Miriam Revna. She sounded agitated.

Noguchi tapped the received button and looked at the rancher. "You'd better pray they've found Revna, Ackland."

"I didn't make him go out there! And if he hurt himself, it's his own fault!" She hurried out of the rec center and was blasted by the afternoon heat.

Ackland and Hiroki followed; she deliberately walked ahead of them to avoid further conversation for the moment; by the sound of it, Ackland was trying to reason with Hiroki, his deep voice apologetic and contrite.

Asshole.

Noguchi waited at the entry to the lab for them to catch up; if Revna was dead, she wouldn't want to walk into it alone.

The three of them stepped into the lab together. Noguchi saw what was strapped to an examination table, and took in a deep breath, to scream or faint she didn't know. Dragon

Chapter 14

"So much for your precious quarantine," said Ackland softly.

Noguchi closed her mouth. Miriam Revna and two local pilots were looking at a readout on a small screen across the lab.

One of the pilots, Spanner, turned and grinned. "Hey, look what we found!" He pointed at the creature unnecessarily.

Hiroki took a step toward it and then paused. "Is it-alive?"

Miriam Revna stood and walked over. "Yes. It's injured, but not in any danger. At least, I don't think so. Four cracked ribs and extensive contusions in the dorsal region. And it's male, I'm fairly certain."

Noguchi saw what she meant about the maleness. She couldn't miss it.

The thing was a giant, maybe two and a half meters tall. Humanoid, but its head like some sort of mutated crab. It wore armor, and was bound to the exam table by several thick straps of rhynth hide-its long, taloned arms were speckled, reptilian, but not scaled. Noguchi saw the slight rise and fall of its chest. There was a mask over its face. What was it breathing? she wondered.

After the initial shock, she tried to remember what the company's off-planet manual contained on the subject of possible XT encounters; something like "Avoid direct contact until trained personnel arrive!"

Looks like we're going to write a whole new chapter . . .

"We found a ship, too," Spanner said. "It's mostly blown to shit, but we should get a salvage team up there!"

Noguchi found her tongue. "Any idea what it is, Doctor?"

Revna looked at her blankly. "Hmm? I'm sorry, I'm not thinking clearly today"

Noguchi nodded. "Of course. We are still looking for Kesar. I just wondered if there was any connection between this arid those unclassifieds that Roth brought in."

The doctor shook her head. "This creature has a completely different cell structure. No relationship at all. He"-she nodded at the monster-"is more like us than the little crablike things."

Hiroki walked over to a table covered with pieces of the alien's armor. He held up a broken staff tipped with a vicious looking blade. "Quite an arsenal."

Noguchi joined him and picked up a large chunk of dark metal with a strap. She could barely lift it. At closer inspection, it was apparently some kind of weapon, a rifle or a flamethrower. It was damaged.

She set it down and picked up a mask.

"This is stuff you'd pack for a hunting trip. Or an invasion," she said. "This guy's no peaceful explorer."

Hiroki fingered the strap on the odd weapon. "I don't think this is his first trip to Ryushi, either. I can't place the rest of it, but this strap is definitely rhynth-hide."

"Any sign of the Doc?- Ackland nodded at the pilots.

The slender young woman, Ikeda, sighed. "Negatory. But Iwa Gorge connects with a maze of canyons and arroyos; it'd be easy to get lost. We'll go back out pretty soon."

There was a small shield of some kind with the other weaponry, a plate-sized disk with a strange looking creature etched on it. Noguchi ran a finger over the blackened metallic substance. The drawing was the head of an unknown animal or bug, an elongated skull with sharp teeth and no eyes; she traced the outline thoughtfully. There was something familiar about it.

Was it a dream? It was dark and hot . . .

She looked again at the unconscious alien and shuddered. Maybe Doc Revna hadn't gotten lost

There was a scream from outside, followed by a crash. Noguchi started; what now? She and Hiroki ran to the door together with Ackland behind them.

A flier had slammed into the transmitter building directly across from the med center. There was no fire but a lot of oily smoke; a small body lay on the hot pavement next to the accident. Several others had come out of the op center and were also running toward the scene. Hiroki got there first.

"What happened?" Noguchi called out.

Hiroki knelt by the victim and carefully touched its face. "It's the Sheldon boy," he said.

Noguchi looked down at the child's still, tear-streaked face and felt her heart tighten. So young . . .

The boy opened his eyes and started to scream.

Bobby woke up with a scream. It was hot, the air smelled burnt, and his parents

He sat up quickly and looked around. He was in Prosperity Wells, there were a bunch of people gathered around him and the flier lay nearby, broken.

"Bobby," said a calm voice. Mr. Shimura was next to him. "Are you hurt-?"

"Monsters," he whispered. And he started to cry.

Ms. Noguchi was there, too. She leaned down next to Mr. Shimura and smiled at him. "It's okay, Bobby. You're safe now. What happened?"

He closed his eyes, unable to stop the tears. "Mumonsters killed my dad and then my mommy and then before that they kuh-kuh-killed Dax and we couldn't see them, but then I got away-"

He couldn't say anything else; he wanted to tell them how scared he had been, how there were so many of them, and how Dax had seen them first-but all that came out were loud sobs of terror and sadness.

"Let's get him to the med center," someone said. Gentle hands lifted him off of the burning ground and carried him away. One of his legs hurt really bad and he cried harder.

Cool air washed over him as they went inside, the world dimmed.

"We've got an emergency here, Doc!" the person holding him shouted. Mr. Shimura.

Bobby opened his eyes and looked past Dr. Revna at the medical room. And he started to scream again; just like the tears, he was unable to stop. Fear and hatred and sadness and anger for the thing that they had lying on a table.

"Monsters! Monsters! Monsters!"

Dachande remembered movement after the loneliness of pain, the new pain. Once, he had opened his eyes and seen that he was indoors, in a moving ship. There had been heat and then cool, and strange, animal sounds-

He realized he could see a little, but could not focus. Dark and light shapes folded and formed in front of him. But now his gaze sharpened, just for a second, at the horrible cries of some creature in front of him. It screamed and howled its nonsense language, the thing. It was pale and little, like-

Like an ooman?

Dachande sank back into the quiet darkness. Fear fought to rise in him. He was caught by monsters.

Chapter 15

Noguchi and Hiroki walked into a room filled with low, nervous chatter and grim faces. The gathered ranchers and Chigusa staff fell silent and looked at them, their expressions fearful and expectant. The rec center was packed, but suddenly a hundred-plus people didn't seem like so many.

Noguchi cleared her throat. "Before we start, is everyone here?"

Mason stood from his seat near the door and read from a piece of paper. "Everyone except Ikeda, both Revnas, three ops people, two of Marianetti's people who are on their way-and the Sheldons. Oh, and the Barkers haven't answered yet."

Noguchi nodded. "Ikeda will be here shortly, and Miriam Revna is tending to Bobby Sheldon-"

A slender blond woman called out from a back corner of the room, her voice tinged with worry. "Is it

true? About the Sheldons?" Noguchi recognized her as one of the garage maintenance workers, a mechanic.

Noguchi took a deep breath; she and Hiroki had discussed how to handle the situation after Ikeda had called in, but it wasn't going to be easy-the Sheldons had apparently been well liked on Ryushi.

"I'm not sure what you've heard, but I'll tell you what we know," she said. She consciously kept her voice low and firm; panic in the crowd would help no one.

"Approximately two hours ago Bobby Sheldon came into town on a flier, alone. He said that his parents had been killed by a group of XT life forms. Just before he arrived, Spanner and Ikeda found an injured . . . being in Iwa Gorge that is currently unconscious in the med center. Bobby Sheldon identified this being as similar to the life forms that killed his parents." Noguchi took another deep breath. "When we were unable to reach Mr. and Mrs. Sheldon by radio, we sent Ashley Ikeda on a flyby. I am sad to report that she just called in with the news that the Sheldon house is in flames, and their breeding stock has been slaughtered.

"We must assume that an attack is imminent."

There was a slight murmur through the crowd. A few people coughed, a few children started to cry softly.

Loren Gaunt, one of the ops screen-watchers, stood and raised his voice to be heard above the uneasy group. "So what are we going to do with the thing in the med center? And what is it, exactly?"

Several others nodded.

Hiroki stepped forward. "At this time, we know very little about the creature currently in Miriam Revna's care. It is a large, humanoid being, unlike anything previously registered in the EXT guide. It is under restraint, and has shown no signs of recovering so far-although Revna doesn't seem to think it's in critical condition

"You mean you haven't killed it?" Gaunt sounded incredulous. "After it murdered Bob and Sylvan?" A couple of others called out agreement.

Noguchi raised a hand for silence. "The creature in the med center was not involved in their deaths; the time frame-"

"Fuck the time frame," said Gaunt. "For all we know, that thing was responsible for sending its buddies out to murder them!"

The calls of agreement were shouts now.

Noguchi felt that spark of anger she'd had for Ackland. She clapped her hands sharply above her head and yelled.

"Be quiet!"

The room quieted. An infant howled loudly in the back and was soothed by its mother.

"Perhaps if we all panic and turn ourselves into mindless animals, we'll get out of this situation! Who else wants to add to the problem?"

Her voice carried well. She could feel her cheeks flushed with anger, and was gratified to see that Gaunt's were also red-he dropped his gaze to the floor and didn't speak again.

Noguchi nodded. She had everyone's attention.

A young boy raised his hand.

"Yes?"

"Is Bobby okay?" The boy was no more than twelve; his voice was high and shaky, obviously upset by the situation. His father placed a hand on the child's shoulder.

She nodded and attempted to smile. "He has a sprained ankle and is in shock, but he'll be all right. Squires has agreed to watch him for a while."

Noguchi motioned at the young teacher who chewed nervously at her lip.

She scanned the room, watched the fearful crowd with a calm eye.

This is bad, but we will handle it. She felt in control; for once, the people of Ryushi looked to her to tell them what to do. She wouldn't let them down.

"If we could hold other questions for a few moments, I'll tell you what we propose. Mr. Shimura is in charge of security. All able bodied personnel will be expected to take a shift on watch, and anyone not on duty will remain within the main complex. First, we'll do what we can to barricade the town with the cargo crates from the move here-" She nodded at Mason. "Mason here will head up that maneuver. Anyone trained on lift equipment will report to him after the meeting. There is a thirty-three-hour curfew in effect as of now; no one will go anywhere alone unless they've cleared it with me or Hiroki, and it will have to be a good reason. Those of you with weapons, please list them with Spanner ASAP Ben Davidson and Jess Jonson have volunteered to show our younger members holovid graphics at the school this afternoon, so meet with them afterward for specific times."

People nodded; she could almost feel the fear in the room become less tangible. It was a good thing to remember that most crises just needed some organization and clear thinking to be handled efficiently.

Hiroki read from a list the first watch team and then suggested another meeting later, at dusk or when the work was finished, whichever came first. As the gathering drew to its close, Noguchi was pleased to see that order and confidence had been restored quickly after Gaunt's outburst.

Except

Except only a few people had heard what Bobby Sheldon had said. Or seen what the thing in the lab looked like . . .

Noguchi shook her head. It didn't matter. Wishing for other circumstances was pointless. She took a deep breath and went outside to do what she could.

Twilight was almost there when it occurred to Noguchi that she hadn't heard back from Collins.

Under Hiroki's capable direction, they had set up an admirable line of defense; the house-sized moving crates had been lined up around the perimeter of the compound quickly; with the willing aid of both the ranchers and the staff, the work had been neatly done.

A copter crew had made runs to fetch all of the weapons listed by the ranchers; Noguchi had felt her heart sink at the inventory. Twenty-seven scatter guns, ten pistols earmarked for a police force that had never been needed, and six oldfashioned flare guns. There were also a few hunting rifles and handguns. Not much.

She sat in the ops center hunched over a cup of black coffee that was barely tepid. Her body ached from all of the work; Hiroki had insisted that she take five, and she was only too glad to comply. Hiroki was going to take a team to walk the compound and secure any place they had missed. Around her, four staffers watched screens. Noguchi was exhausted, and there was still too much to do, too many variables to consider

Like The Lector.

Noguchi straightened. The crew outside was just finishing up, and another meeting was coming up within the hour-but had she seen anyone from the ship? That obnoxious Conover-?

"Weaver, have you seen Collins anywhere?"

The tall, dark-haired staff woman looked up from her console. "No. I haven't at least-Downey, have you seen Collins?"

Sid Downey shrugged. "No one's seen him since he went to talk to The Lector's people." Noguchi sighed and stood up reluctantly. "Any progress?"

Downey shook his head. "The Barkers still don't answer. And Dr. Revna refuses to be moved to the main building other, than that, everyone is accounted for."

Noguchi patted him on the shoulder as she walked toward the door. "Keep up the good work. I'm going to go talk to The Lector folks, see if they've kidnapped Collins."

She almost collided with Hiroki in the doorway.

"Where are you going?" Hiroki looked like she felt. Dark smears of dust painted his face, and his eyes looked weary and old.

"Collins still hasn't come back from the ship; I'm going to find out what's going on with them. But first, I'm going to see if I can talk some sense into Dr. Revna."

Hiroki frowned. "It's not safe, Machiko." His tone was gentle.

She felt oddly touched by his concern, but she was also tired of not knowing what the hell that ship was up to. "Someone has to go; may as well be me."

Hiroki looked at her seriously for a beat and then unhooked his holster strap. He handed the revolver to her, butt first.

"I see you've made up your mind-but take this. It's a 12.5 mm Smith. It belonged to my grandfather. It is loaded with jacketed bullets, for hunting big game."

She stared at the weapon.

He pushed it into her hands. "If you have to shoot something, make sure it has a thick wall behind it these bullets will go right through a rhynth. I'll call the sentries and let them know you're on your way."

Noguchi accepted the weapon gingerly and nodded. She knew how to shoot, of course, it was SOP for offworld execs to take a course. Never knew what you'd run into out on the frontier. For once, the company was right.

"Fine. Have Weaver set up the sat-link as soon as the suns set, and ask them to cut a deal for Marine support." She smiled tiredly. "And thanks, Hiroki. Be careful."

He smiled in return. "You're doing a good job, Machiko."

She walked into the late-afternoon heat and headed for the med center, her thoughts jumbled with exhaustion. There was still a crew of a dozen or so outside, setting the final walls into place. Amazing, that in the space of one day, they'd gone from peaceful town to armed camp. The gun was heavy in her hands. She paused long enough to strap the holster on and settle it on her hip. Still heavy but comforting. She wanted desperately to believe that their measures were needless, but her gut told her otherwise; tired though she was, there was a chilling certainty in her bones that tonight would be a long one, and come morning, things might be very different . . .

Miriam watched the stats on the screen with something like awe; she was glad to have something to do besides worry over Kesar, and the alien was distracting, to say the least, now that Bobby was gone.

Her stomach tightened at the thought of her husband; she had always thought that she would know if he was gone-that deep knowing that two people shared if enough years had passed. But there was nothing; she just missed him; she kept thinking of what he would say about the incredible reads that flashed across the console . . .

"Doctor . . ."

Revna turned in her chair, heart pounding. "Ms. Noguchi?"

The attractive Japanese woman smiled gently. "I'm sorry, we haven't heard anything-"

The doctor took a deep breath. "Then you've come to check on our patient." She tilted her head toward the prone form on the exam table nearby. "He's still not awake, but he's making remarkable progress; his respiration has deepened, and I believe that two of his ribs have begun to heal."

The gentle smile never left Noguchi's face. The obvious sympathy there made Revna want to cry, so she turned back to the screen.

"I'll let you know if he regains consciousness," she said.

"Doctor, I'd like to move you and our 'visitor' to the main complex; the security is better there, and-"

"Thank you, no," said Revna. "I prefer to remain here. I have everything I need to look after my patient..." She hoped she sounded collected and normal, but she heard her voice crack slightly on the truth. "Besides, this is where Kesar will come when he returns."

She didn't turn around, but she sensed the Noguchi woman's hesitation. Before, they could have hoped for an accident, with her husband lying injured, waiting for help. But now? Revna could almost hear her thoughts-that she was fooling herself. Kesar Revna had undoubtedly met the same fate as Bobby's parents. He had gone right to where the wrecked ship lay.

Miriam spoke again, her voice firmer this time. "I'm fine, Ms. Noguchi. Really."

"Very well, Doctor," she said. "I'll check back on you later."

"Thank you, Ms. Noguchi. Machiko."

When she heard the door close, Revna finally relaxed a bit. A lone tear trickled down her cheek; she wiped at it absently and concentrated on the task at hand. He would be back soon; and if he wasn't, she would find him somehow . . .

Mason rolled his head and yawned; he and Riley had run out of things to say about twenty minutes ago. The initial adrenaline of the situation was long gone, and their nervous small talk had disintegrated into a watchful silence. At least it wouldn't get any hotter today; the suns were headed down. And in another hour or so, he and Riley would be inside drinking beer and shooting the shit; he pitied the next watch; being out here after dark would be a bitch.

"Hi, Riley. Hi, Mason." The boss lady walked toward them smoothly, a smile of greeting on her lips. Speak of the devil.

Riley nodded back and Mason stepped forward. He dropped his cigarette on the dusty ground and squashed it with one boot.

"Ms. Noguchi," he said politely. "Mr. Shimura said you were coming. I'm to escort you to The

Lector."

"Let me guess, Mason-Hiroki ordered you to follow me even if I declined your escort?" "Yes, ma'am."

She nodded and sighed. "Well, come on then." She stepped ahead of him and headed toward the ship.

Mason glanced over his shoulder to see Riley grinning at him and shot him the finger; smarmy bastard. He jogged to catch up to Noguchi and walked in front of her. This would be a prime opportunity to tell the management what he had been thinking.

"You know, I think we're worrying too much. I mean, look at the size of the complex. You'd need an army to attack, right?" He looked back at Noguchi and stopped at the base of the ramp for her to catch up. She didn't answer, didn't even look at him, really. He might as well be talking to a block of plastecrete.

"I think those XTs are gonna take one look at Prosperity Wells and go back home," he continued. Fuck her, anyway. He stepped into the open door at the top of the ramp and pointed his scatter gun at

nothing in particular; it was dark in there. He took another step inside and then turned his head to call back to the ice queen.

"Just give me a second to get the lights." He edged to the left and groped blindly with one hand. Something wet dripped on his hand.

"Hey," he said under his breath. Another drop of warm liquid splashed the top of his head. Fucking disgusting! Where was the goddamn light switch anyway?

He got the impression of sudden movement overhead-and then there was only pain.

Noguchi stood at the top of the ramp and listened to Mason babble mindlessly. Mason was something of a jerk, that was certain. He stepped into the dark and fumbled for the lights, still chattering away. She turned to look at him

-just in time to see him lifted straight up into the darkness. There was a strangled, wet cry

-and the darkness rushed forward to greet her, a dozen arms and a thousand teeth, all screaming, all hungry.

Chapter 16

Noguchi grabbed for the revolver in slow motion. The single patch of darkness separated into many forms; she fell backward as the dozen or so nightmares came at her.

What-?

She fired four times and stumbled down the ramp without looking. The deafening shots echoed from the walls and in her head and two of the things dropped.

She backed up against the shield wall, revolver extended toward the huge bugs, Jesus, they were half again her size! They came, but slower, their short, twisted limbs reached for her. They hissed and cried out like demented banshees. Double rows of teeth snapped and dripped a clear, slimy mucus.

Noguchi didn't take her gaze off them, even as she heard more of the things come down the ramp. She was going to die-She panted shallowly and backed farther up the incline, revolver heavy in her trembling hands.

Another of the bugs rushed forward with a scream. She jerked the trigger again and again. The thing howled in fury and pain and fell-

She fired again, only-the shots were quiet, dull clicks. The gun was empty.

Was there more ammunition on the belt? Did she have time to reload?

Yes. No.

The nightmares advanced; she backed up, her last moment of life. Nothing flashed before her eyes

save the horror coming for her; no memories, fond or otherwise, came to haunt or comfort her. She was in the moment and in this moment, the leading bug cried out and jumped-

-and a hollow thump sounded behind her, as if something had imploded. A rush of heat stirred her hair, and the creature closest flew backward in a rain of hissing liquid, its head gone.

The horde screamed in unison but stayed at the bottom of the wall, their dark limbs clattering on the ground in-anger?

Noguchi risked a glance behind her.

The dragon-?

It was the monster, masked and armored. It held the spear with the broken shaft-except it was whole now, the long pole mended; the heavy dark weapon it held was slightly different-

It wasn't the creature from the med lab. It was one of the others, the killers.

It aimed the weapon at her and fired.

Noguchi felt a cry escape her throat-

-and another of the bugs exploded behind her.

She looked back down at the advancing army and felt a rush of air again behind her. The monster warrior leapt over her and landed on the pack of seething black bugs. Noguchi could do nothing but stare.

The dragon fell into battle, its movements so swift she could barely follow them. The savage spear sliced and cut another bug in pieces. Another shot from the strange weapon and dismembered limbs clattered to the ground.

The blood of the dark spidery bugs hissed and melted into the plastecrete; some kind of acid-?

She couldn't tell from the screams which was which. As the warrior spun and hacked two of the bugs at once, a flash of Noguchi's childhood came to her

-Samurai-More of the bugs came down the ramp, scrabbled wildly to get at the warrior. Noguchi, still unable to move, looked on at the storm of death and battle.

Gkyaun had been sent in to scout, but the Hunting he had found was too good to walk away from. Here was a sickly, pale ooman---with no defense! He had watched as the cowering ooman's small burner died, then as the kainde amedha swarm approached the ooman. It did not seem able to defend itself. Where was its spear? Its wrist knives? This terrified creature was the monster of which he had been frightened as a suckling? It was a joke.

The ooman was thei-de without him; he would save the ugly creature for later. First, the Hard Meat

Gkyaun's heart hammered with glory as he caught the ooman's attention by burning the first drone. The drone exploded.

The others cringed, drew back, looked upon him with the respect befitting a Blooded warrior. On some deep cellular level, they knew his kind. Knew the danger he presented.

This dtai'kai'-dte was nothing! He could have won in infancy! Yautja would cry his name this night, victor of drone and ooman alike. He would bring the ooman's blackened skull to drink from

He fired again, and was again rewarded with a shower of acidic thwei. The Hard Meat screamed in loss.

Gkyaun howled the war cry and jumped. He landed amid the hissing drones and moved among them like the setg-in, deadly and quick. So easy! He spun and slashed, burned and cut at the same time.

Two bugs fell with one slice of his spear.

A drone from behind lost its head; he gutted yet another.

He was Paya, the conquering warrior! Thwei ran at his feet, the Hard Meat shrank in terror-!

More came at him, a relentless flow of fury and sound. He pivoted, Hunted, his every movement was an arc of doom and pain.

Noguchi gulped air and pushed herself backward, toward the top of the shield wall. The warrior was a dervish of wild energy and prowess-the nightmare creatures fell all around him.

But more monsters flooded toward him. And despite the fighter's speed and strength, he fought poorly; he hadn't allowed for any outcome other than victory. It was as if he were a karateka who had mastered kata, but had never faced an opponent in actual combat . . .

The clamoring dark animals surrounded him, pulled him down. The warrior struggled, but to no avail; one of the giant bugs ripped off his mask with one spidery clawed arm and plunged its razor teeth forward-

Noguchi scrambled backward and to her feet, atop the wall. She ran back toward the complex and didn't look back. The cries of hunger and triumph followed her, told her the warrior was no more.

What were these things? What new disaster had come to visit them?

Chapter 17

The noise came from a million klicks to his right. It was a familiar sound, one he had known for a very long time, back on Earth, from before he knew what it meant.

He felt his consciousness as it rose upward, swam to the surface of a depthless abyss-the knowing part of him, the tomes of understanding. He fought to keep it from happening, but was helpless to stop it. There was something that he didn't want to know, was terrified of knowing . . .

The sound again. Scott? Scott, are you?

Scott?

Scott was him. The blissful nothing dwindled away as the aches in his body stepped in to greet him, coupled with a horrible, consuming hunger.

"Scott?"

Scott opened his swollen eyes to blackness and took a deep breath. He almost choked on the cloying, wet air.

"Scott, are you awake? Can you hear me?"

He coughed, the minor movement sparking a thousand pains. "Yeah." He swallowed gummy spittle and turned his head toward the voice. "Tom?"

"I think I can get my arm free," the other pilot said.

Scott couldn't see him, but his friend was only a few meters away from the sounds of hurried struggle.

The rest of the nightmare clicked in to place. "Where did they go?" Scott strained to see in the dark room, memories of hissing motion and giant teeth adding sharp panic to his dull and clouded mind. "Tom, did you see them? Where did they all go?"

"Shh! I'm almost out-" A grunt of exertion and Tom's welcome face appeared in front of him, grimy, fearful, pale.

"Hurry! Jesus, where did they go? Get me out of this, hurry, please!"

"Be quiet!" Tom spoke in a harsh whisper and reached for Scott's immobilized hands. The ropes of resinous dark material holding him in place snapped and crumbled to the floor.

Tom glanced over his shoulder every other second, eyes wide.

As soon as one of his arms was free, Scott tore at the weird matter at his midriff and leg-and tumbled to the floor.

He had been suspended a half meter in the air.

Tom slipped an arm around his waist and helped him up, speaking quickly and quietly.

"They were all around us, and something happened outside, I guess; they swarmed out of here like mad bees, and I didn't know if you were here-" Tom seemed to realize he was babbling and cut himself

off.

"It's okay, man. Let's just get the hell out of here, okay?"

Leaning on each other heavily, they stumbled toward the emergency hatch. It was hard to see anything, but Scott could make out areas of the dock where the shadows were denser, more solid.

A raspy breath came from one of the darker corners of the room. Scott stopped and turned toward the noise. At first he couldn't see what was the cause-and then he was unable to believe what he saw.

It was one of the creatures.

It was bigger than the others. Its huge, flattened skull was curved downward, its limbs drawn up in front of its dripping jaws. The thing was curled up, a horrible caricature of the human fetal position.

"I think it's asleep," Tom said softly. "It hasn't moved since before all the other ones left."

Scott couldn't pull his gaze away from the dormant monster, the slow rise and fall of the thing's furled body with each slow breath. It was the most frightening thing he had ever seen, like a giant spider-lizard with knives for teeth, deadly, insectile. Strings of sticky goo fell from its jaws, the dim light from the partly opened dock door reflected in the glistening slime.

"Let's go before she wakes up," Tom whispered urgently.

"She-?" Scott shook his head and looked at the pilot, but Tom was already pulling him toward the hatch.

"Yeah," Scott whispered back. He wanted nothing more than to get the fuck out of there. Get help, get weapons; just see another human face. But as they hurried to their escape, Scott glanced over his shoulder to look at the thing once again. Where had they come from? What were they capable of? There was something strangely familiar about them . . .

He did a double take. His heart pounded. The angle of the creature's head seemed to have changed slightly . . .

"Come on!" Tom pulled at his arm.

Scott nodded mutely and followed. There would be time to think about why later, not now, not fucking now . . .

Scott shuddered as they reached the emergency hatch. The thing was frighteningly similar to the picture in his head of the jabberwock, from that old poem.

He had the sudden, certain feeling that this was far from being over with.

Noguchi ran through the deserted streets of Prosperity Wells. There was distant thunder, harsh and unreal

Thunder? She grabbed for the comset around her neck, feeling like an idiot for not having thought of it before; everything had happened so fast.

"Hiroki, this is Machiko! Do you read?" ,

A hiss of static, and then thunder assaulted her ears. She twisted the volume switch in a panic. Not thunder. Gunfire.

"Hiroki! Come in, please!"

"... achiko?" The reception was bad, but it was him. The sound of his voice was music.

"Listen, I'm approaching the south lock. We're in real trouble, you're not going to believe this!"

"At this point, I'd believe anything," Hiroki said. His usual calm was gone, replaced by tension and worry. The sounds of weapon-fire clattered loudly through the coin, blocking out whatever he said next.

"Hiroki? Where are you?" Her thoughts buzzed and clamored loudly as she stopped in the street and listened. Nothing. "Hiroki? Are you there?" Her voice cracked in tension.

". . . welding the inner doors of the west lock. We'll hold them off as long as . . ." Static. ". . . wish we could see what the hell we're . . ."

Noguchi slapped the receiver, hard. "I can't hear you!"

His next words came through clearly. "Get everyone to The Lector," he said. And the com fuzzed out. "No!" she breathed. "Hiroki?"

He was gone. There had to be another way! The Lector wasn't an option anymore, there was nowhere to go

Noguchi ran toward the main well, where Riley and Mason had been only a few moments before. Riley would still have his weapon, they could

Riley lay facedown in the dust, the late sun shining on the pool of red that had formed around him. The dry soil drank deeply; even as she watched, the blood drained into the earth, leaving a wet stain of crimson mud. A large hole had been punched through Riley's back, the ragged edges raw and meaty. His rifle lay nearby.

She ran to the fallen form and crouched next to it. She pressed numb fingers to Riley's throat and gagged on the thick, metallic scent of fresh blood. No pulse.

"Shit," she whispered. She looked around, eyes wide. The warriors, like the one that had saved her life

She reached for Riley's rifle quickly, stood. And heard a sound right behind her, nothing so much like a sharp intake of breath. It wasn't Riley, that was certain. She turned in slow motion-

-and saw nothing. She let out a sigh of relief. There was a lot to be worried about, but no immediate threat, at least.

That was when the earth rose up, the dust wavering in the dimming light, to knock her to the ground.

Chapter 18

Tichinde led the willing yautja into battle as the light grew shallow on the arid world. The kwei oomans had barricaded themselves behind a heavy door, their stingers on the outside but controlled from within.

Their weapons were hot and deadly, their fire had already taken two of the warriors before Tichinde had decided to pull back and organize a stronger attack. Tricky devils, to hide behind the door and kill from a distance.

There were now only six other students left. They crouched behind one of the ooman structures and looked to him for command. Any doubt Tichinde had felt after watching two of his yautja fall evaporated as he saw the eager Hunters before him; Mahnde and Daec'te had been slow and foolish, but these warriors would go on to the victory Hunt.

"Skl'da'-si, you will be hult'ah and stand behind." Skl'da'-si had the best eyes; they would need sharp vision to watch for any ooman who might be waiting to ambush.

The yautja tilted his head and stepped away from the rest.

"It is time for the Hunt of naiv-de," the new Leader growled. He raised his voice steadily as he spoke the truth aloud to the others. "Time to kill until the pyode amedha trophies sit on our spears, until their thwei flows in our honor and the fight is done. A thousand stories will be sung in our names, for we will conquer!"

Tichinde flared his mandibles in pleasure at the low hisses that came from his warriors. They were ready.

It was Etah'-dte who began the chant of the Midnight Kiss. One by one, the yautja raised their spears and voices to the sky, the screams true and harsh in the dry dead air of the ooman world. Tichinde howled loud and long with his warrior brood; the Soft Meat would die in scores this night, and he would Lead the slaughter.

The Hunt was all.

Noguchi scrabbled backward on her elbows from her bizarre attacker. There's nothing there-!

Even as the thought popped into her head, the magnified dust rippled and changed. One of the warriors suddenly towered over her, its thick arms high over its head. The spear it held was pointed at her.

Earlier, in the ship, she had forgotten in her panic that she'd had a rifle strapped on her back. She remembered now.

She swung the heavy rifle up.

Too slow. Time expanded, flowed like thick oil. It took a millennium to thrust the weapon against her shoulder and aim-

Darkness sprang and covered the dragon.

From the main well structure behind the creature, the metallic black bugs shrieked and swarmed and fell on him, their talons fast and sharp.

Noguchi had not seen them there, hadn't heard them come. It didn't matter. She jumped to her feet

and stumbled backward, watched as the warrior hit the ground and screamed horribly. The nightmare insects cried and tore at their prey. A pale green fluid, the dragon's blood, sprayed the dark animals. They threw back their obscenely long heads and screamed.

Fuck this!

Noguchi turned and ran.

Roth stood behind Cathie at the ops panel near the south lock when Ackland shouted from his position near the heavily fortified entry.

"Get ready! Something's coming!"

Roth gave Cathie's shoulders a light, reassuring squeeze before she picked up her carbine and joined the other armed men and women at the door, Creep at her heels.

Her heart thudded dully in her chest as she ran the dozen meters or so. Hiroki's broadcasts had been coming in from the ops console for the last twenty minutes or so. His team was doing their best to ward off the attackers, but they had wasted a lot of their ammo on thin air; the going belief was that the alien creatures had some kind of invisibility cloak. The camera angle was such that only a few of the team could be seen-not what they were fighting.

Roth took a position toward the front of the group and trained her weapon on the reinforced plexi door, arms steady. The tension around her was heavy; they didn't know enough about the aliens, what they were after or what they could do. Maybe they wouldn't be so easy to kill . . .

Reuben Hein, one of the geotechs, was on watch. His face was pressed closely to the loophole in the wall. He held up one of his dark hands for silence as the seconds ticked by.

Roth felt a trickle of sweat run down the nape of her neck; she closed one eye, finger rested lightly on the trigger.

"It's okay, don't shoot!" Hein called. "It's Noguchi!"

Roth hadn't realized how nervous she had been until his words flooded her with cool relief. She and the others lowered their weapons and stepped back from the door.

Noguchi had obviously been in a fight; her clothes were rumpled and dusty, her normally sleek hair was plastered to her head in strings, her face flushed. She walked in quickly and surveyed the situation.

"Did you see them? What the hell are they? How many were there?" Ackland half blocked her entrance, his red face betraying the fear he was hiding.

"Too many," said Noguchi. She turned to the assembled group of ranchers and company people and spoke clearly, her voice one of authority. "Fall back to the inner doors and get someone with a welding torch over here. Seal all of the doors-upper level, too except the east lock. And no one goes in or out without my authorization."

She looked at Hein. "Are we organized enough to get this done without tripping over each other?"

He nodded. "I'll make sure of it."

"Are the children here?"

Loren Gaunt spoke up. "Yeah, they're eating back in the conference room with Davidson and Jonson.

Noguchi exhaled slightly, and some of the tension left her shoulders. She picked out Spanner in the crowd and walked over to him, her revolver extended butt first. "Please load this for me. And get me some extra rounds for it. More of the armor-piercing hunting rounds like it had before."

He took the weapon carefully. "How much extra ammo you think you'll need?"

"Ten speedloaders. And seal those doors ASAP"

She walked back toward the ops panel, not noticing the effect her words had on the group. Ten speedloaders? A low murmur rippled through the room.

Roth followed Noguchi to the back to tell Cathie what was going on.

The Japanese woman stopped near the board and spoke calmly to one of the staffers.

"Downey, do you have that sat-link hooked up yet?"

"Little Cygni's still interfering-but it'll be below the horizon in the next hour."

Noguchi nodded at that and turned to Weaver. "What do you have on the cameras? Can you get me a fix on Hiroki and his team?"

Cathie stepped up behind Roth and grabbed her hand, both of them watching the conversation. Weaver looked up at Noguchi slowly and said nothing; her brimming eyes said enough.

Noguchi threw her comset on the panel and took the one that Weaver held out. She stood behind Weaver's chair and looked at the scant visual.

"Hiroki! This is Machiko, do you read?" Her voice held an edge of panic.

From their position, both Cathie and Roth could see what little there was to see on the small screen. A med kit lay open on the floor, its contents scattered. There was a white cable in one corner of the visual-which Roth realized, with dawning horror, was a human arm. The body of the fallen person was offscreen. Cathie's grip tightened in hers. Muted sounds of gunfire rattled through the com.

"Hiroki, this is Machiko! Do you-"

"Ma . . . iko?" The reception was terrible, but Roth felt her spirits lift slightly; he wasn't dead . bzzt. "-you in the tower? Friedman, get down!"

More static.

Noguchi grasped the com tightly, as if doing so would help somehow. She spoke in a rush; it was maybe the first time Roth had seen her with her cool exterior completely blown. The nitrogen queen was terrified.

"Listen, Hiroki! Tell your team to stand by, we're going to open the doors and pull you in, do you read me? Tell your team to stand by!"

Hiroki had backed up so that part of his profile was visible in the screen. He held a rifle aimed offscreen and pulled the trigger uselessly.

"No time," he spoke in a half shout. Onscreen, Hiroki held the rifle up by its barrel, like a club. Static. ". . . team left, anyway! Just . . . and Friedman." Static. "I don't think we've hit any . . . them! Ammo's gone, us, too, I . . ."

He said something else, but his words were drowned out by the sound of breaking plexi. Hiroki held his empty rifle higher.

Someone, Friedman, shouted offscreen. "... they come!"

"Stay safe, Machi . . ." Static.

Roth watched as huge, dark shapes, the alien warriors, swarmed onto the screen. Hiroki brought the rifle down, hard, to no effect. The attacker he had tried to fend off knocked him to the floor easily, as if he were a child. Mercifully, he fell out of the camera's range. But the pool of red that flowed sluggishly into view must have come from Hiroki.

Noguchi made a strangled sound deep in her throat and looked away. And then Cathie was crying, and Roth turned to comfort her as best she could.

The mighty yautja burst through the shoddy ooman defenses with no further losses. There were only two of the Soft Meat still upright, and they fell in the span of a breath. Tichinde himself took out the smaller of the two. The ooman tried to stop him with a dead burner, like a staff-there was no contest.

The new Leader relished the decapitation of the small creature; it had put up a fight, however meager. Its skull would look fine on Tichinde's trophy wall, once it was polished clean of the sickly pale flesh.

Tichinde howled, the head of the ooman dripping thwei from his spear. Perhaps the Soft Meat were not as deadly as the yautja had been told. If this was the best they could do, he and his warriors would have many trophies to take home.

Chapter 19

Scott figured that the ranchers and staff were probably holed up in the main operations building; there was no one in sight as they stumbled through the empty streets toward the structure. Twilight had fallen over the town with no respite from the heat.

Scott felt a sense of deja vu as they walked. Deserted town, lights low, unknown dangers-he looked over his shoulder several times to see if The Lector was still there. He was aware that there was no reason it wouldn't be, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was in deadly danger and that there was no escape from it.

They were near the first set of holding pens when they heard the shriek.

From behind them somewhere, a long, shrill squeal that seemed to echo in the still air rose in pitch and

then dwindled into nothing. Not human, whatever it was. Those things in the ship? Scott glanced at Tom. He had gone a deathly white, his eyes huge in his face. "What the fuck-?"

Before Tom could finish, the horrible cry came again. Closer. Gaining.

Scott grabbed Tom's arm and they ran for the nearest holding pen. His gut had twisted at the alien scream; this whole thing was some kind of bad dream, one he didn't want to be in anymore.

I'd like to wake up now, please.

The entry to the pen stood open. They scrambled in just as another long howl came-louder, closer still-and slammed the heavy door shut.

Inside, the dark, stuffy room stank of perspiration and rhynth shit. At least they seemed to be alone.

"What are we gonna do?" Tom managed, his voice nearly a gasp.

Scott shook his head, tried to catch his own breath.

The only light in the large room came through a row of small, dirty windows set high on one wall. Other than the door they both leaned against, the only other way in was through the loading hatch-which was closed and locked.

"We're going to stay here," Scott said finally.

"But the other people must be-"

"Fuck the other people. The other people have guns, you heard the shooting. We don't. Do you want to go back out without a weapon?"

Another scream from outside. Tom's silence was answer enough. They would wait. If somebody wanted in, they could knock and ask politely and if the voice wasn't human, they sure as shit weren't gonna get an open door.

Noguchi sat on her bed and stared at the floor, one shaky hand on her forehead. She didn't feel much of anything; at first there had been a huge sadness, but it had been replaced with a kind of dull acceptance.

Hiroki was dead. He and the others had sacrificed themselves for the rest of the colony, and she had failed to use the time he had bought for them; she had failed at everything.

Part of her mind kept shouting at her: Organize! Get this under control! Get yourself together!

It was the same voice that had pushed her through most of her life, the driver of the strong Machiko who allowed her to hold her head up. It clamored in her thoughts now, directed her to get up, get up now! and get going-but she let it run itself in circles.

Where was there to go?

Noguchi felt as if she had been sitting there for hours, but she knew it had been only a few minutes. Funny; all she really wanted to do was lie down and sleep until she woke up at home. On Earth, back in the tiny apartment she'd left a million years before . . .

Would that be so bad? Just to give up and wait there until help came, until the damn company sent someone to pick them up? They could probably hold out, just do some heavy reinforcing of the locks and then sit tight. Maybe she could even stay here, in her room. The people downstairs could make do without her. They would figure out something. Hide away, do nothing, wait. Yes, that felt right

"Ms. Noguchi?" A soft voice crackled over her com.

Noguchi felt her stomach tighten at the sound. Why did they need her, it wasn't fair! She couldn't run a battle, she was an overseer for Christ's sake!

"Ms. Noguchi, this is Weaver." The hesitant voice called again.

Noguchi sighed. "Yes, what is it?" It didn't matter, none of it did.

"I'm sorry to interrupt or anything. I thought-I mean, I know you and Mr. Shimura were friends, and I'm sorry to bother-"

"What?" She wanted to feel angry, but there was still nothing.

"There's something you should see. I could transfer it to your screen, it's the feed from the security cam on the southwest side of the tower. It's dark, though I've boosted the gain-I guess there are a lot of lights out over there-"

Noguchi turned wearily and looked at the console on her wall, already sorry she'd admitted to being there. Fuck these people. They didn't even like her. What did they expect? Why did she have to take care of them? Why her?

The screen snapped on.

It was a bonfire. At first, Noguchi didn't recognize that it was a picture from anywhere on Ryushi; she was reminded of old holos she had seen on Earth, of tribal dancing, ritual stuff.

But the dancers were the warriors. The dragons. Well, no, not really dragons, aliens.

There were five or six of them, the creatures who had killed Hiroki and the others. They ran and stumbled and jumped high in the air all around the fire, which was probably built with debris from the west lock. Sparks flew, flame cracked and rose into the early evening sky as the aliens danced and circled. And they carried spears . . .

There was no audio, but Noguchi could imagine the howls of victory. For the spears they held high in the air were decorated with their conquests. As she watched, one of the warriors danced past the cam with one of the black nightmare-bug skulls jammed onto the point of his spear.

And the next warrior-

She quickly looked away, then returned her gaze to the screen. She didn't want to believe what she had seen, but it was true. Fuzzy and distorted by the heat and bad lighting, but there.

Hiroki's decapitated head on the tip of the creature's spear, the sharp, bladed end running through his neck and out of his mouth.

For just a moment, she thought she might vomit.

The alien danced from view, but Noguchi had seen what she had needed to see. The nausea passed. Something new, some new feeling was filling her up. It wasn't sorrow or sickness, although she felt both of those things. No, it was dark and solid and throbbing, like a huge, black machine had started running deep inside, at the core of her being. It was a physical sensation, this feeling, a rumble of newness.

It was many things, but the easiest to understand was the anger. She watched the celebrating warriors and felt the apathy get eaten by the new machine, chewed and burned away, fuel for the thing at her center. It cleared her mind for what she would need to do.

She was going to kill them. All of them. Not just for Hiroki's death or the lives of the ranchers or her career-she felt almost selfish about her reasons, but in the end, it wouldn't matter. They would die because they dared to try her. She was a woman of honor and they stood against her.

Roth and Cathie stood near the table where Spanner sat, Noguchi's gun in front of him. A lot of the others watched also, although there really wasn't much to see. Spanner had already filled eight speedloaders, and was working on his ninth. He fed the rounds in slowly and the metallic clicks were loud in the quiet room when he closed the latch knob. It had been pretty silent here since Hiroki's last transmission.

Noguchi had been gone for twenty minutes or so, which was just as well. Roth hadn't liked seeing the new overseer choke up. Tears would have been okay, but Noguchi had just-swallowed it and gone inside of herself. It was too bad; Roth had seen an iron thread in Noguchi during the setup of the barricades, and had hoped they would all see more of it. Bitch or no, she was competent under stress. Or so they had thought. They were gonna need that, given what they were up against.

Ackland had made a short speech after Noguchi had walked out, about how they were all going to have to pull together and decide what their next move would be. But he was dry-mouthed and scared, he didn't have any suggestions after that, and finally he sat back down. He didn't know what to do, either.

Cathie kept a firm grip on her arm as the silent tension grew. Roth knew her spouse didn't want her to step forward, although she was as qualified as anyone else, maybe more so. She didn't want to lead the colony, but someone would have to. Much as she wished it would have been Noguchi, Roth didn't think she was going to come back.

Spanner continued to load the bullet holders methodically. High velocity hunting rounds, jacketed slugs that would punch through a wall. Someone would need them.

Noguchi stepped into the room quietly.

"Ms. Noguchi--" Ackland looked and sounded confused.

She had pulled her hair back and knotted it tightly at the base of her neck. She wore a fully padded coverall, the kind that the rhynth workers wore during gelding time; the suit was designed to dull impact from stray kicks, and had saved Roth herself from a lot of injuries. She had strapped a carbine to her back and wore knee and elbow leathers, as well as gloves. A comset hung loosely around her neck, and her eyes were cold and hard.

Roth grinned nervously, and felt Cathie's arm slip around her waist. Noguchi was back-and looked like a woman to reckon with.

"Who owns the fastest hover bike?" she said, her voice cool. Cool, strong, authoritative.

Roth said, "I guess that would be me."

Noguchi nodded at her. "Where is it?"

"East lock. Keycard's in it."

Noguchi smiled briefly at her, the expression calm and yet somehow chilling. The nitrogen queen was back, only this time, there was something else under the icy facade.

Ackland laid a hand on Noguchi's shoulder and turned her roughly to face him. "That's it? You're taking off? What about the rest of us?" His voice was heavy with anger, his composure blustery. "I thought you were supposed to be in charge! Where's your sense of responsibility?"

Noguchi took a deep breath. And then she punched Ackland low in the gut, hard.

Chapter 20

The anger rested in her like a dormant but wild animal, waiting to be awakened and used. Noguchi knew she had bigger things to deal with than this overblown rancher who stood fuming, his fat finger pointed at her chest. But she had had more than enough from him. She took a breath and jabbed. It was a reaction more than a decision.

Ackland folded, gasped, and fell to the floor.

She heard the people all around step back; two or three applauded.

"Responsibility?" Her voice sounded strange to her ears, cold and furious. "Hiroki is dead, Ackland! And a big part of this shit sandwich is on your plate! If we live through this, you're going to find out what happens to people who are responsible!"

Ackland was still on the floor, face red, trying to catch his breath. The anger suddenly coiled back to a resting state, left her exhilarated and exhausted all at once. Ackland was an annoyance, but nothing to slow down for.

Like a headache.

She raised her gaze and looked around at the watching crowd. The faces she saw weren't angry, just somber. Maybe Ackland wasn't quite as popular as he thought. The only important thing now was getting the job done, the job she was responsible for, hunting down the things that had disturbed Prosperity Wells. But not simply for vengeance.

For honor.

Noguchi raised her voice so that everyone could hear. "Weaver, you're in charge until I get back! The rest of you will follow her orders to the letter, is that clear?"

A few of the ranchers nodded. It would have to do.

Spanner had holstered Hiroki's revolver to a rhynth-hide belt with pouches for the extra ammunition carriers. Noguchi smiled briefly at him and strapped it on without another word. No one spoke.

Several of the ranchers and employees followed her down the long hall to the east lock, but she didn't have anything else to tell them. She had an idea, but the details weren't quite worked out yet; she had told Weaver the basics over the com, so help on this end was covered. But judging from how fast Hiroki and his team had been taken out, time couldn't be wasted on planning; she'd have to play it mostly by ear.

Noguchi reached the lock and peered out of the loophole window; the bike was only a few meters from the entry. The deepening dusk was deceptively peaceful-looking, quiet.

Roth stepped up behind her, expression set. "I could come with you," she said softly.

Noguchi considered it, then shook her head. "No. If I don't come back, someone will have to come up with other plans. You'll help most by staying here. Talk to Weaver, she'll fill you in."

Roth nodded. "Let me cover you, then."

"Okay. I'll signal here in approximately twenty minutes; if I haven't called, weld this lock and keep a CDS going to the corporation's sub-HQ. If -you keep backing up and sealing the doors as you go, you might be able to hold out until they give up, or until my idea pans out."

Or they get in . . .

It didn't need to be said. Roth nodded again and shouldered her rifle. Noguchi opened the door and broke into a run in the hot night air.

The pain had been flowing away for a long time, how long he didn't know. Or where he was,. or what exactly had happened. More than once, he had risen from the dark to feel that he was still alive, still nan'ku. There were straps on his body, which conjured images of a snarling dark creature in bands of dlex.

Queen. Kainde amedha.

He surfaced briefly with the familiar image and then decided to sleep a little more. He must still be unwell, although he felt that his strength had somewhat returned. The sickness was sensory; the smells in consciousness were alien, strange. The air was wrong. And he sensed no yautja nearby . . .

Dachande slept, but left his inner eye open and watchful. He would investigate the situation later. Soon.

Noguchi jumped on the bike and stabbed at the key at the same time. Her adrenaline was in overload, her breath shallow. Everything around her had slowed down, but she was at light-speed.

She jammed the accelerator down and flew toward The Lector, free from fear. Death wasn't so scary once decided on; Noguchi didn't want to die, but the odds weren't in her favor. After seeing Hiroki's head on a spear, she had accepted the futility of the situation. She would probably die-but not without company.

There was an overpass ahead, the second-story walkway between the sewage treatment plant and the main well. Noguchi floored the pedal; the shadows there were thick and secretive.

She was halfway through when the dark exploded to life.

The attack came from her left. A high shriek, then something big and heavy hit. The bike tipped, veered toward a wall in the dark, claws ripped, the bike righted-

-and she was back in the open. The creature had fallen off of the unbalanced bike. There was another shriek behind her. She got the impression of great speed from behind, as the thing ran-

Noguchi grabbed for the rifle on her back and circled wide. It was one of the bugs. Because everything had slowed, she saw it in perfect detail as it ran. Long black skull with razor teeth, an impossible body, segmented, black, metallic. There was only the one.

She flew straight at it, a part of her mind screaming at her to get away, fast.

She aimed the rifle . . .

The creature's head blew apart in a spray of blood. Another jumped out from the heavy shadows, ran at her-

-she hit it, heard the cry of pain and rage. It clutched at the cycle, scrabbled up, loomed above her.

There was a meter-thick beam under the walkway, barely visible in the dark. Noguchi ducked low and flew straight at it.

The bug's howl was cut short and the bike lifted again.

Noguchi circled back and headed again for the ship, heart pounding. In spite of the physical reaction, she felt calm. Very awake, but not panicked; she felt in complete control, she knew exactly what she was doing . . .

She slammed on the brakes suddenly and cried out, enraged by her own stupidity. "Shit, shit, skit!"

Miriam Revna. She had forgotten.

The commas had been out for several hours before Miriam heard the shots echo through the compound. There had been gunfire before, but it hadn't been so close. Several times, she had heard

weird screams, alien sounds.

Miriam held the bonesetter tightly and tried to breathe deeply. She had stood by the door for what seemed like days, and she was exhausted. The patient had not regained consciousness, although his readings had jumped several times, indicating a raise of bodily functions-increased heart rate, blood pressure, temperature. The readings could be wrong, though, probably were; she had never seen a creature quite like it. Neither had Kesar . . .

Kesar.

Miriam closed her eyes and breathed deeper. She didn't want to think about him, not yet. She wasn't ready to admit that he . . . she wasn't ready to grieve.

The two commas in the lab were notorious for fussing out, sometimes for days at a time. They had never bothered getting them fixed-the lab was only a few dozen meters from the main transmitting antenna, not a hassle to walk. No one had tried to contact her, although she wouldn't know, of course. She was scared, and she missed Kesar more with every second.

A hover bike pulled up outside, and Miriam heard running footsteps. Perhaps it was Kesar-She knew it wasn't somewhere inside even before she heard Machiko Noguchi's voice. "Dr. Revna! It's me, Machiko!"

Miriam gripped the bonesaw closer and went to the door. She punched the entry button and looked outside, cautiously.

It was the overseer. She wore a padded coverall and held a rifle. Her gaze scanned from left to right as she edged into the lab, facing out.

As soon as she was inside, Miriam hit the control and the door slid shut.

"Machiko, I heard shooting! What happened?"

The younger woman turned to face her. Miriam was struck by the changes she saw in Noguchi's cool expression. Something huge had occurred, something that had made everything different. It was in her eyes, in the set of her mouth

"Things are bad, and they're about to get worse." In spite of the circumstances, Machiko Noguchi sounded calm. "Can you handle a hover bike?"

Miriam shook her head and set the cutter on a table. "No. I never learned. Kesar was going to teach me, but we never-"

"Do you know how to use one of these?" Machiko cut her off, held up the rifle she carried. "I don't have time to get you back to ops."

Miriam shook her head again.

Machiko handed it to her anyway and spoke quickly. "It's a semiautomatic, so it does all the work for you. Just point it at what you want to shoot and squeeze this trigger." She motioned at the crook of the

rifle. "You only have six rounds, so don't waste any on warning shots." Miriam took the rifle hesitantly and frowned. "Ms. Noguchi, I'm a doctor, not a soldier . . ." "This isn't war," Noguchi said softly. "This is survival."

Miriam felt tears in her eyes, but wasn't sure why. "Who might I be-shooting at?" The words were strange in her mouth.

"Your patient's brothers. Or something that looks like a two-meter-tall black insect with a banana-shaped head full of teeth." Machiko said. She walked over to the patient and the table of artifacts and picked up the odd shield she and Hiroki had studied before. She held it up toward Miriam.

"The unclassifieds that Roth brought in-Kesar's report said he thought they might transport eggs, or spores, to host bodies. Is it possible that when those spores grew up, they'd look like this?" She pointed at the strange animal etched into the surface.

"It's impossible to say," Miriam said slowly. She felt horribly confused. "Why?"

"Because I've seen some of these things tonight. There were dozens, maybe hundreds of them in The Lector. And I think Ackland's rhynth were infected" she paused-"or impregnated by these things. And they've spread it to all of the herds on the ship. I think our two unclassifieds are connected somehow."

Miriam looked at the etching and then over to the specimen strapped to the table. "Not biologically. They're quite different in chemical makeup."

Machiko nodded. "There's no time to worry about it now, anyway" She looked at the Injured alien. "We ought to shoot that thing," she said. "But maybe we'll need it as a hostage later." She walked toward the door.

"What are you going to do?"

Noguchi turned. "I have an idea or two. Listen, I want you to stay here, okay? Outside is not safe. Keep the door locked. I'll come back for you as soon as I can, but if you haven't seen me within the next hour, start thinking about how you can get to ops. Wait until daylight, and take the rifle when you go. I'll tell the ranchers to watch for you."

And she was gone, just like that.

Miriam set the heavy weapon on the table and stood with her eyes closed for a moment. It was all like a dream, surreal and frightening. None of this could be happening. She looked at the alien creature on the exam table and tried to get her thoughts in order.

Kesar was dead. Thinking anything else was folly. Perhaps the broken-tusked alien had something to do with it, but there was no anger in her heart, only a soft, wishful ache.

"It's so wasteful," she said quietly. "We could learn so much from one another . . ."

There was a sudden scratching sound at the door, a sliding knock.

"Dr. Revna! It's me, Machiko!"

Why had she come back?

Miriam hurried to the door. "Machiko? What happened?"

She hit the entry control and stepped back. "Did-"

Words escaped. The patient-no, it was a creature like the one on the table-

Miriam turned and ran, even as the armored monster clutched for her.

The weapon, table, trigger-!

She ran, but the thing screamed behind her, too close.

She was going to die.

Chapter 21

After the initial conquest, Tichinde left the yautja to circle the ooman dwellings and get a feel for where the others might be. There were many in the same structure as the first group, but he wanted to be certain that there weren't more, perhaps waiting to ambush them.

He walked. And heard the sound of machinery behind him, coming closer. Tichinde blended with the shadows as they had all been taught and waited to see what would come. He patted the mesh sack on his belt; there were already three ooman trophies in it; there would be more.

A single ooman drove a small aircraft into view, landed it, then ran to one of the dwellings, a short burner in its hand.

Tichinde pressed the loop control on his shiftsuit, one that he had salvaged from the wreck, to record the language spoken. The tiny ooman shouted and then entered the building at the beck of another ooman inside.

A short span passed and the flyer ooman came out and went away. He thought it was the same one-they looked much alike to him.

Tichinde waited a few breaths and then walked to the same door from which the creature had come. He pushed the loop control on the arm of his suit and listened to the odd language spill from the copier.

There was movement inside. And the door opened to reveal a lone ooman, defenseless. The creature's face distorted in reaction and it howled.

Tichinde ran forward and screamed for blood.

The ooman stumbled back, turned, and ran for a table. A table with a strange burner on it.

Tichinde raised his bladed staff high, ready for the final cut-

-and there was something familiar here, a scent he knew, but it didn't matter because the ooman must

die-

-the ooman raised the burner slowly and fired at nothing, the shot far and wide, then another-

-and Tichinde brought the blade down, prowess and certainty in the fatal cut-

Noguchi heard a shot, then another. It came from the lab, or somewhere near it.

She had stopped at the main control hatch for the front six buildings of the compound and studied the numbers, not certain of the proper codes for what she needed to do. She'd punched buttons, pretty sure that she had gotten it right, and checked her chronograph.

The shots made her jump; they were accompanied by a shrill and primal scream.

Noguchi jumped on the bike, turned it back toward the lab, and hoped she would get there in time.

Dachande opened his eyes at the sound of the yautja death cry and growled softly.

Tichinde. And he pursued the creature, the ooman whose smell had become familiar.

The desperate ooman ran to the table in front of Dachande's resting place and snatched at a burner clumsily. Tichinde towered over it in classic pose, ready to deliver the death blow to the panicked ooman. The ooman who had nurtured him through the dark, what could have been his final moments until dhi'ki-de.

Dachande lifted one of his arms. The strap holding it snapped. He thrust his talon forward and caught the staff right below the blade.

Tichinde's head jerked up in surprise. The ooman fell to the ground.

With a quick shove, Dachande rammed the staff upward and knocked Tichinde backward.

Tichinde jumped up and popped his wrist forward, extended the double bladed ki'cti-pa toward Dachande.

The Leader growled in fury. Tichinde would raise a weapon against him? Had he lost his memory?

Dachande freed his other arm easily and struggled, tried to leap. His lower body was still bound

Tichinde jumped to meet him, ki'cti pa raised to slash.

And the world exploded into a million flying pieces.

The sounds of battle were unmistakable. So was Miriam Revna's scream.

Noguchi stamped the pedal and ducked.

Miriam cried out and fell to the floor as the wall cracked open in a roar of thunder and shattered around her. A chunk of something sharp and heavy gouged her right calf. The pain was horrible. The terror was worse.

The thunder ceased. Miriam pulled herself around a table leg and turned to see what had happened.

Noguchi had come through the wall. The bike was turned on its side and Machiko was propped on her elbows, pistol aimed behind Miriam.

The doctor snapped her head around and saw that the attacking creature was sprawled facedown on the floor. It didn't move, but she could hear its labored breathing.

The patient was still on the exam table, pinned there by one remaining bond across its abdomen. He fumbled with the strap frantically.

"Lay down flat, Miriam!"

Noguchi had her gun pointed at the struggling patient. Her finger tightened on the trigger. The doctor stood up, right in the line of fire. "Jesus, get down!" Noguchi's heart pounded.

Miriam didn't even look back at her. She held both of her hands up and walked slowly toward the tethered warrior.

Dachande redoubled his futile attempts at freedom as the ooman came at him. The creature held its odd, clawless hands open and moved slowly. The other, dressed as a warrior, had a weapon on him-but the approaching ooman blocked the small warrior's efforts.

It could be a trick, a ploy to calm him before the Soft Meat ripped him open . . .

But the slow-moving creature was the one that had tended to him; the kicti-pa was unmistakable. If it had wanted him dead, wouldn't it have struck when he was injured and unaware? There was a thick bandage of some kind around his chest-not the work of a Hunter. A healer, then.

Dachande stopped his labors and held still, but kept his body tensed and ready. He hissed a warning to the ooman.

And it leaned toward him, very slowly, and unlatched the restraint.

Miriam unhooked the bond and stepped back, careful not to move suddenly. The creature had growled at her, a foreboding gurgling sound, but didn't attack when she was in reach.

"What are you doing?!"

Miriam kept her eyes on the patient. "I think it's okay," she said softly.

The creature studied her for several long seconds. Miriam held still, not wanting to frighten it.

"Are you insane?" Noguchi was furious. "They killed Hiroki and six others!"

She didn't move. "They did. He didn't."

Miriam was scared, in spite of her intuitive feeling that the creature wouldn't harm her. Intuition wasn't a lot in the face of death.

The patient moved fast. It slammed one clawed hand down on her shoulder.

Dachande inspected the ooman thoughtfully. This was what he had wanted to Hunt all of his life? It was ugly, but certainly not dangerous-looking. It was stupid, too. Approaching a warrior with no weapon didn't indicate a particularly high intelligence. Or it was incredibly brave and ready to do battle. Small as it was, if it wanted to fight, perhaps it was also mad?

The armed one babbled at the ooman next to him. Dachande got the impression that the defenseless creature had kept him from being killed. The ooman with the hand-held burner lowered the weapon slowly.

Overcoming a lifetime of yautja lore was not a thing he wanted to do-but good warriors stayed open to new information. Perhaps the Soft Meat on this world were different.

Dachande decided. He placed one of his claws on the ooman's shoulder and shook, the symbol of greeting.

The ooman shrank slightly, and the other raised its weapon again. Dachande took his claw away and waited.

After a pause, the tiny ooman stretched itself high and returned the gesture. Dachande tilted his head at her. Fascinating!

Then it was that Tichinde clattered his mandibles and slowly got to his feet. Dachande's anger flared. The s'yuit-de! He would die!

Dachande jumped past the ooman and whacked Tichinde's skull. The blow knocked the student to the ground.

Tichinde said nothing, but scrabbled at the pouch on his belt.

Dachande snatched the sack from the idiot yautja and held it up. Trophies.

Ooman trophies.

His rage was blinding. Tichinde had Hunted with no supervision-and had Hunted ooman!

Dachande lifted the yautja by his tresses, the fury boosting his strength. He could smell his own musk, hot and heavy with the desire to kill. He raised one fist and smashed Tichinde in the mouth.

Tichinde tried to pull away, responded with a weak blow to Dachande's gut.

Dachande howled in his face, a shriek of pure disgust and outrage. He struck again.

Tichinde was his student, once. He had broken the rules of the Hunt. There was only so much slack Dachande could give him, even as a Leader. Now the rope must be pulled taut. Now, Tichinde must be destroyed.

It was the law.

It was a matter of honor.

Chapter 22

Noguchi watched in amazement as the two huge warriors fought. The broken-tusked "patient" was the more skillful-and was winning easily.

Myriad half thoughts ran through her mind. The patient was grateful, the other was with the killers, the broken tusk was better, older, brighter perhaps, the doctor was insane, they had to get out

Miriam stood a few meters from the battle, just stood there and watched.

Noguchi ran forward, pistol ready, and grabbed the doctor by the arm.

"Come on!"

The monsters could slug it out to the death for all she cared; they had work to do.

She and Miriam ducked through the shattered wall and ran across the compound. Noguchi steered them toward the main garage, to the east. The med center was closer to the holding pens, but they would need a flyer for what she had in mind and the hover bike was totaled; there would be other bikes at the

garage-

Except Miriam can't ,fly one and they won't carry two people.

Noguchi wanted to scream. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

And on the heels of the panic, she remembered the copter.

The copter! She ran faster.

Miriam had trouble keeping up; blood ran down one of her legs. The compound was completely dark now. Many of the building lights had been broken at some point, and the few remaining only seemed to add to the shadows. A faint breeze had sprung up, hot and fetid. A death wind, full of carrion stench.

Behind them and ahead, shapes moved and shrieked. It was hard to see what was happening. Noguchi guessed that the two alien races were fighting.

Maybe they won't even notice us-

A giant black bug leapt in front of them from a shadow and raised its strange arms to attack.

Miriam screamed.

Noguchi pointed and fired twice. The first shot was too high. The second tore out the bug's throat.

Blood sprayed.

A drop of the fluid spattered against one of Noguchi's padded suit arms and hissed, ate through the fabric and burned her skin.

Acid, some kind of acid--

The noxious substance ate deep into her flesh. As they ran forward the garage, Noguchi felt her own blood soak into the coverall. She ignored it as best she could; they were almost there.

They reached the garage, Miriam now stumbling badly. Noguchi half dragged her toward the back of the building. The copter was usually kept at the med center, on the roof's helipad; the doctors used it to get to emergencies. But Noguchi remembered that it needed some minor adjustment after the weapons collecting run.

I just hope it wasn't engine trouble

Noguchi laughed sharply as the rounded the corner, a short bark of relief. It was there! She looked around for trouble, but the yard seemed clean.

Miriam stumbled behind her and fell.

"Oh, shit, I can't get up, I'm sorry, Kesar, I'm sorry, I can't--- " The doctor tried to hold it together, but she looked close to a breakdown. Her face was the color of dust, her eyes rolled upward.

Noguchi pulled Miriam to her feet and dragged her to the copter.

"It's okay, Miriam, you're going to be fine, okay?" She hoped she sounded soothing. "Everything will be fine, really, okay?"

They reached the vehicle. She opened the door and hustled Miriam in, still talking. "Don't worry, we're going to get out of here, okay? I'll help you fly this thing, just tell me what to do and we'll be fine."

That seemed to cut through the doctor's hysteria. Revna raised her tear-streaked face to Noguchi, eyes wide.

"Kesar always flew. I don't know how."

Dachande didn't want to spend too much time on Tichinde, much as he felt the idiot deserved to die slowly. He had to find the other yautja, if there were any. Find out what was going on, how he had come to this state. It did not feel good, what had happened.

Tichinde fell again. His tresses were matted with thwei, two of his mandibles broken and crushed against his worthless, dying skin.

Any fight the student had in him had fled. He tried to crawl away.

The sight of the yautja slowly inching from his Leader was infuriating. The kwei would die as an animal, a coward, rather than go out like a warrior.

Dachande waited no longer. He snatched Tichinde's bladed staff from the floor and raised it over his

head, aimed it at the base of his student's upper spine. Brought the sharp blade down-Shiiink!

Dachande jerked the blade from the body in a patter of blood and then spit on the corpse. The Leader donned the kwei's armor and took his weapons; he left the bandage on his chest. There was some pain there, perhaps the dressing would help. After a second's hesitation, he pulled the recording loop from Tichinde's chest; there might be a use for it later.

Armed and ready, with a fire in his gut that screamed for justice, Dachande stepped into the dark night to find his other students. Perhaps Tichinde had been alone, but he doubted it. Hunting alone was not common behavior to the young.

And if they were here, in the ooman camp, on a Hunt-nothing would stop him from the lessons he would teach them.

"What?"

Revna nodded. "He was going to teach me-" Noguchi tuned her out for a second. Okay, she can't do it, we're fucked--She searched the myriad of buttons and switches on the console and found one that said Eng. She flipped it.

The copter's engine hummed to life.

She tapped her comset. "This is Noguchi in copter'-she looked over the board quickly-"copter one. Do you read me, tower?"

A hiss of static.

And then Weaver's welcome voice. "We copy. What's happening?"

"Miriam Revna and I are at the garage and neither of us are checked out in a copter. We could use some help here."

Weaver sounded calm. "Okay, we got you. Hit the switch that says Eng." "Did it."

"Do you see the button that says comp? Punch that."

Noguchi spotted it and did what she was told. A small screen flickered on with program questions. She and Revna both sighed at once.

"Okay, we're on a roll," Noguchi said quietly.

"David, get over here." Weaver's voice was distant, then came back through the com. "I'm going to let Spanner talk you up, okay?"

"Fine. What's the situation there?" Noguchi touched her arm lightly and grimaced at the pain. At least the bleeding seemed to have stopped.

"We're all set for your signal. Everything's locked up, for a while at least. But you should see what's happening in the southwest quad; looks like an all-out war."

"Consider the signal given. Wait until we get off the ground, and then go as soon as you hear it. Good

luck."

"Copy that, boss."

There was a pause; Noguchi waited for Spanner to come on and tapped the comset, anxious to get out of there. She turned to look at Miriam

-a dark shape popped up in front of the copter, a nightmare bug. Its teeth dripped and gnashed as it plunged one claw through the windshield.

Scott and Tom had stayed quiet for a long time. The sounds outside of weapons fire and death cries were incentive not to move around much. The monsters were out there and maybe if they stayed under their rock here long enough, they'd eat each other and go away.

Scott figured out that they were in the southwest quadrant of the compound, in one of the two empty holding pens. There were six others, full of bellowing rhynth; their cries mingled with the alien screams.

Harmony a la hell.

"I'm starting to think we were better off in the ship," Tom whispered.

"Yeah, right. Stuck in the spider's web waiting around for dinner. Their dinner."

Scott cracked the door slightly to see if anyone was coming to help. So far, they had seen nothing. Well, no people.

Strange humanoid creatures were at war with the bizarre animals that had taken over the ship. It was too dark to make anything out clearly, but the situation was obvious; between the screams and the weapons, there was one fuck of a battle going on out there. They couldn't tell who was doing what to whom and for what reasons, but it was bad.

Scott was exhausted and he felt like shit. They had been stuck there for what felt like days. He wanted a shower, a steak, a few beers, and a soft bed. No way he was going out there to get it, but it helped to take his mind off of the situation at hand. Which looked like Armageddon. It was all so . . . unreal.

Tom groaned softly and shifted to sit on the dirty floor. He was sick, had been coughing and having cramps for over an hour, but he was trying to keep it to himself; the look on his face expressed enough. Scott looked at his friend, worried, then back out at the bloody combat.

Something screamed piercingly and then was silenced.

"Hang on, Tommy," Scott whispered. "We're going to be okay."

Yeah. Maybe we'll sprout wings and just fly back to Earth.

Noguchi jabbed her leg forward and up and pushed as hard as she could. The bug barely moved, but it was enough. Maybe.

She pulled the trigger four times, fast. The animal's head exploded, sent a spray of deadly blood across the windshield and onto the console. The noise of the gun hit her ears like hard slaps. The plexi material began to smoke immediately and the small compartment filled with a foul and acrid stink.

Noguchi whipped her head around. Nothing else coming at the moment.

"You okay?"

Revna held up one shaky hand and nodded.

Noguchi took a deep breath and strapped herself into the chair. "Buckle up, Miriam."

She ejected the spent shells and slammed another speedloader in before she looked down at the controls and took a deep breath.

"Let's do it, Spanner. What's first?"

The copter rose in a series of sharp jerks before Noguchi turned it toward the south end of the complex. Miriam still wasn't sure what the plan was, but she was glad to get off of the ground.

She felt her injured leg carefully and winced. It was a bad wound. Each second that passed left her weaker, dizzier; she had lost a lot of blood, maybe too much

Miriam applied pressure to the wound with part of her jacket and prayed silently that she and Kesar would be together soon.

Dachande ran through the oddly structured system of ooman buildings toward the sounds of battle. He ached all over and at least two of his ribs were broken, but he put the pain aside for now.

Shattered buildings and other rubble littered the grounds. Dachande hopped over the torso of a fallen drone; its life fluid still hissed on the soil.

He heard burners and screams in the distance, to the left. He cursed mentally and ran in that direction.

The syuit-de! They Hunted oomans, worse, they did so without proper surveillance. It was bad enough to have broken the law; to use poor strategy and tactics only compounded the error.

The other two Blooded must certainly be dead; they would not have allowed this. As sketchily trained as these yautja were, the bugs would be more than just a minor challenge. Armed oomans would be worse.

A small torrent of the Hard Meat appeared suddenly, leapt from the dark shadows to scream at him. Dachande pulled his burner. He was in too much of a hurry for prowess feats.

There were four. They circled him.

The first darted forward, teeth chittering. The outer jaws spread wide, the smaller teeth on the inner rod gaped.

Dachande burned it, the hollow thump of the weapon exploding the drone's gut into bloody bits. Without turning, Dachande took out the second and the third. He shot one, and used the spear in hiju position to disembowel the other.

The final drone screeched, turned, and ran. Unusual behavior, but they sometimes did that when there was a queen nearby. It was not fear, for they had none, but instinct to warn the nest.

Dachande sped on. Perhaps a few of the students would be salvageable. If not, he would have to kill them. Whatever they had stepped into on this world, they had sunk up to their necks in it and the stink was bad. Real bad.

Roth loaded food and water packs into the AVs with the others. With any luck they'd be back the next day, but they had taken almost everything. Most of the ranchers were seated and ready; just a final check and they could move.

Weaver had outlined Noguchi's plan briefly; it was shaky, but there was a chance it could work. Only a few people had protested-Ackland's voice above the rest, of course-but Weaver had shut them up with a few well-chosen words. Roth had liked "or we'll kick your fucking ass" in particular.

Roth stood cover outside the east lock as Weaver directed the last few people to either an AV or a ship loader. The largest piece of machinery, one of the carts that had carried most of the building supplies for the shield wall, now held thirty-seven people. Most of the transmitting equipment was also loaded-they would continue the CDS from the desert.

If they got that far.

Creep whined softly at the sound of one of the children crying. He kept saying that it was too hot outside. Roth silently agreed; she was reminded of the thunderstorms in southern Texas, where she had grown up. The stifling summer air would get even hotter as the clouds pressed down; as a child, she had waited eagerly for the first drops to fall, filled with the joy of expectation. There was a wild feeling in the air that had always made her think of carnivals in the dark, although she didn't know why. And then the rain, heavy and warm-

Weaver interrupted her thoughts. "We're ready."

Roth nodded and whistled for Creep to get on the bike. Cathie was watching some of the children in one of Harrison's AV; they would hook up later.

A low rumble shook the ground with no warning and then grew louder. Roth hopped on a bike and started it up, the sound quickly lost in the rising tremors that beat through the soil. Goddamn if that didn't sound like thunder; Roth hit the accelerator and headed east, the AVs and loaders behind.

Miriam opened her eyes and looked down when the noise rolled over them. There was an ocean of

life directly below them; the entire compound was moving, undulating in a quake of heaving bodies and animal cries.

Noguchi had stampeded the rhynth.

Chapter 23

Dachande heard the rumble and immediately ran for the nearest structure he could climb.

Directly after he had attained Leader, he had taken a group on a Hunt and he had heard the same rumble; it was the sound of many animals running in mindless gry'sui-bpe. The yautja had clambered onto a low rise and watched as a herd of four-legged hosts had stampeded past in front of them. Had they stayed on the low ground, they would have been trampled.

He spotted a ladder bolted to a tall structure and ran for it.

He had not found the students yet, but before he could do so, he needed to avoid being crushed by the stampede. He hoped the students would understand what the sound meant and seek high ground or protection.

He growled in irritation as he climbed the rungs of the ladder. If they paid attention to his lessons, maybe they wouldn't die. If they had not listened, then they deserved to die. That was the way of it. His hope was not all that good.

Considering how well they've learned so far . . .

Dachande climbed as the rumble thickened into an all encompassing roar.

Noguchi buzzed the pens as low as she dared and hoped the locks had opened according to the codes she'd set.

The rhynth had been in the hot sunlight all day without food and a minimum of water. The sound of the copter must have echoed loudly in the pens. It only took one spooked animal to get it going. And as soon as one rhynth jumped forward, the rest followed.

The animals tore through the doors she had unlocked.

Within a few seconds, all of the rhynth joined the stampede, headed straight through Prosperity Wells. Anything small enough to get in their way was trampled, crushed, kicked aside.

The searchlight on the copter illuminated the scene dimly. Noguchi only glanced at the panicked herds; she had her hands full piloting. Miriam Revna cried out in delight.

"They just ran over about two dozen of the unclassifieds!" It was hard to hear over the clatter of hooves and the bellows of the frightened rhynth.

Noguchi smiled tightly and pulled up on the control stick. She wanted to check and see if the ranchers had gotten out-

She veered east. All she needed to see were the lights of the AVs-

Noguchi allowed herself a short rush of relief. The low red and white lights were visible. The ranchers and staff were headed away from town into open desert.

It was working! Her plan was working!

She circled the copter back toward The Lector to make another run on the animals. The colonists were headed to relative safety, and the rhynth were stomping everything in sight. Maybe she wouldn't have to sacrifice anything else.

Of course, there were still the creatures on the ship to deal with-and it was probable that a few of the other kind had survived. But to take out the majority . . .

As they neared the transmitting tower, Miriam sat up straighter and pointed. Noguchi shot a sideways glance at what the doctor motioned at-it was one of the warriors. It had climbed the ladder and was almost to the top-and there were three or four of the huge black bugs clambering up after him.

Miriam saw the broken-tusked warrior nearing the top of the transmitter and pointed. He still wore the cast she had strapped him in for his damaged ribs.

"Machiko, look!"

"What?!" The stampede was deafening.

Miriam shouted louder. "It's my patient! We have to save him!"

Noguchi whipped her head around. "No fucking way! Those things are the reason we're in this mess!" She looked back at the controls.

Miriam chewed at her lip in frustration. How could she make Noguchi understand? It was important, the most important thing in the world right now. She could not have said why.

"He saved my life, Machiko!"

Noguchi opened her mouth and then closed it. "Look, I don't" "Please! Machiko, he risked his life to save mine!"

The doctor looked at her patient, getting closer to the top now. The dark, segmented creatures were also getting closer.

"Please!"

Noguchi didn't say anything. She veered toward the tower. I must be out of my mind, that's it, I finally went insane

Noguchi steered the copter toward the tower in disbelief. What the hell was she thinking? Dr. Revna was a nice lady, ordinarily she wouldn't mind doing her a favor, but this-?

She watched as Broken Tusk kicked at one of his pursuers and then stabbed the closest one; the bug screamed and fell. He refused to give up fighting, she'd credit him that much.

But she could barely fly! Even a trained pilot would have doubts about trying to hover next to a tower. And to save an alien that they knew almost nothing about.

Except it had saved Miriam's Life.

Right.

It would break every rule in her book, to risk their lives on this. And she had about a second to decide.

Below them, the rhynth ran on.

Dachande kicked at one of the drones and then used the spear to take out the gut of another. It fell, still kicking-but there were two others.

He heard a ship over the sound of the running hosts but he ignored it. He had enough to worry about. On the ground, the bugs were no match. But fighting while hanging one-handed and almost upside down.

The metal he gripped let out a high groan; he could feel the structure shift under the combined weight of himself and the drones.

Again the weak substance creaked-and started to separate from the building. If he didn't think of something, he would be on the ground in a few breaths. Fighting the Hard Meat and in the path of the stampeding hosts. The Black Warrior must wish for Dachande's immediate company.

And the Black Warrior eventually won all battles.

Noguchi lowered the copter toward the tower. Which had started to quake dangerously. It was collapsing under all the weight.

"Shit--",

Miriam fumbled around the console for a second and then hit a button. Her next words blared incredibly loud.

"Grab the strut! We'll take you to safety!" Noguchi winced. The doctor had found the PA.

She lowered the ship a little more. It was hard, but not as hard as she had expected. On the other hand, a series of red lights had lit up on the control panel. She was too intent on the task at hand to figure out what they meant, but she also didn't want to find out the hard way.

"Grab on!"

Noguchi screamed to be heard. "I can't do this forever, Miriam! He doesn't understand" The copter dipped, and then pulled up again. He had grabbed on to the strut. Noguchi let out a cry of disbelief. It had worked! Broken Tusk had jumped to the copter! Now what the fuck are we going to do with him?

And then everything happened at once. A dark shape lunged at them. Noguchi just had time to register that it was one of the bugs before it landed on top of one of the compressors, on the same side as Broken Tusk. It scrabbled to hold on, screamed.

The copter tilted alarmingly and Noguchi jerked the controls instinctively upward-there was a rending screech of metal as the tower collapsed--and everything turned the wrong way as--the copter went down.

Chapter 24

They were both sleeping when the stampede hit.

Scott hadn't thought it was possible for him to nod out, but he was exhausted, hung over, and probably coming down with whatever Tom had. There was still fighting outside, but the pen they had holed up in seemed safe. The sounds of battle had almost become a background drone, and had moved away after a while.

Scott had been dreaming that he and Tom were explaining what had happened to them to a doubtful audience of company people back on Earth. They were all sitting around a huge wooden table in a dim conference room. At first, the suits had seemed interested as Tom spoke. Except Tom kept saying all of the wrong things, and every time Scott opened his mouth, nothing would come out.

And all at once, the people started slamming their fists down on the table. One of them, a very tall man in a black shirt, kept yelling, "Liar! Liar!" And the sounds of their knuckles hitting wood get louder, more insistent, deafening.

Scott snapped awake as the table broke.

"Oh, shit-" Tom jumped up and lurched to the door. Even in the dark pen, Scott could see that Tom didn't look too good, pale and strained.

Scott pulled his aching body off the floor and joined him. By now, the noise had drowned out all else. He looked out the crack in the door and felt his mouth gape.

The rhynth weren't running past the pen, at least not the front. But they could see the dust kicked up by the animals to their right, maybe six or seven meters away. The whole building shook as the thick stream of animals tore past, headed north. Tom said something that Scott couldn't catch.

"What?!" Scott couldn't hear his own scream.

Tom shook his head and pointed.

At first, Scott wasn't sure what he was looking for. Tom was motioning at a transmitting tower, two structures away.

Tom finally pointed straight up, and then back at the tower.

Scott looked at the top and felt his heart jump. A copter hovered there shakily. It was involved in some kind of rescue mission; there was a person trapped on the tower, being pursued by-Scott peered closer. The alien creatures from The Lector.

They watched as the person on the tower-who seemed to be some kind of giant-reached for the strut of the copter and made it. Scott grinned widely as the stranded person made it to the copter in a breathtaking leap and looked at Tom. Tom laughed without sound and clapped Scott on the back.

The excitement on Tom's face melted suddenly into horror.

Scott looked back at the copter just in time to see it spin down toward the ground, toward them. Something had gone very wrong; one of the creatures had jumped on the roof of the copter and the pilot had panicked. They watched as the flyer spun out of control to crash, a few dozen meters past them to

the left.

The explosion was loud enough to be audible above the stampede; it was getting quieter, the majority of the animals already gone.

By silent assent, he and Tom opened the door and ran toward the crash, the stench of burning fuel and cooked dirt heavy in the air.

The hot night had just gotten hotter.

Noguchi opened her eyes as the thunder fell to the sound and heat of a bonfire. Above her, the Ryushi night sparkled with stars. She had a sunburn and there was something wrong, she couldn't move

"Miriam?" Her voice was barely audible.

A face appeared over hers, familiar, bearded.

"Conover."

"I should've guessed it'd be you!" The pilot had to shout to be heard over the final remnants of the stampede. "You're lucky to be alive, lady!"

Noguchi remembered all of it at once as Conover unbelted her and half lifted her out of the wreckage. Broken Tusk, the rhynth are stampeding and the people went to the desert and Miriam-"Who the hell taught you to fly?" Behind Conover stood the other one, Strandberg. He looked sick.

"Nobody, yet," Noguchi said. She sounded weak, hated that she did. All around them were bits of burning wreckage; the main part of the copter was behind them, still on fire. The flames crackled and danced.

She leaned heavily on the pilot as they stumbled away from the smashed cockpit.

"Where's Miriam?" she said. The doctor hadn't been next to her when she had come to. It was an effort to look around; her neck didn't seem to want to hold her head up.

Strandberg stepped forward and grabbed her other arm.

"Listen, we gotta get out of here! The bugs will be back soon!"

On closer inspection, she could see that Strandberg was sick. He looked like she felt; shaky, pale, nauseous.

The last of the rhynth had gone. Besides a fading rumble, the only noise was the hiss of fire-and somewhere close by, the piercing trill of a nightmare creature.

"Miriam," she said again. "Broken Tusk, Miriam had to save him-"

The pilots ignored her and started pulling her toward one of the holding pens.

Noguchi pushed them away and turned back to the remains of the copter.

"Dr. Revna, the woman who was in the copter with me! I'm not leaving without her!"

Conover's voice was both apologetic and irritated at once. "I didn't see anyone else," he began. And then stopped.

"Oh, Jesus-"

Noguchi glanced at both of the pilots, who stood with looks of awe and terror on their faces. She spun back around and felt her heart sink. It was Broken Tusk, surrounded by flames. He carried Miriam Revna in his arms.

Dachande hit the ground, hard, but shouldered the impact well. It helped that he had the time to jump before the ooman flyer had crashed.

He stood and winced at the tight feeling in his chest; he had probably rebroken what had started mending.

But the host stampede had passed, and the drones were nowhere around, at least for the moment.

Dachande looked around at the burning pieces of material and walked around them slowly. The oomans had been trying to save him; there was no question. And they had probably died for their efforts.

He saw a fallen form on the ground, thrown clear of the wreck. Dachande approached it carefully. It did not move.

The small figure was turned on its stomach, but he knew what it was before he turned it over. It was the ooman who had tended him, then released him. It was the ooman who had tried to save him from the drones and had lost its life trying. There was no question that it was thei-de; thick thwei dripped sluggishly from deep gashes in its face and neck, and its position suggested a snapped spine.

Dachande scooped the tiny body up and paused for a moment, uncertain of what to do with it. Now that the animals were gone, he heard sounds of ooman language from somewhere near; past the largest part of the burning flyer, just a few paces away.

The other oomans would want it. For such a brave being, they would want to properly care for it before it's u'sl-kwe, final rest. It was no warrior, but it had a sensitivity that Dachande had never seen before, except in the smallest of children.

He carried the ooman to the others. There were three. One he recognized as the armed ooman from before. The other two were bigger, but unarmed. They held very still as he approached.

The small warrior held no weapon against him now; it ran toward him, the hold of its body frantic.

Dachande could see that it was not an attack. The warrior reached him and then gently stroked the face of the dead one that he carried, its composure one of sorrow.

It repeated something over and over as it touched the dead face. Dachande suddenly remembered the animal loop on his forearm, and tapped it quickly.

The ooman's language babbled back at it. The warrior looked up at him and then motioned for him to set the corpse down.

Dachande did it gently; the ooman had shown him respect. He would do no less for it in its death. Noguchi stared in shock as she heard her own voice spill out from behind the creature's mask. "I'm sorry, Miriam."

She pointed to the ground and then back to Miriam's body. Broken Tusk carefully set the doctor's body down and then stepped back.

Noguchi knelt over Miriam, could already see that it was too late.

That's okay, Machiko. Someone-else you cared about, someone who depended on you, dead. No big deal.

Just because it's your fault.

She allowed herself one second of pure grief. Her head dropped into her hands, and she let out a soft moan of despair and sorrow. The pain was sharp and cruel, the guilt tremendous and stabbing. And she didn't have time for it.

Noguchi stood slowly and took a deep breath. The pilots kept their silence, in respect or

embarrassment she didn't know. She turned to look at the warrior, who also gazed at Revna's broken body; his odd mask flickered with strange shadows.

"It's time to put an end to this," she said quietly.

Broken Tusk stepped toward her and put one clawed hand on her shoulder. Noguchi did her best to return the gesture, although she couldn't quite reach.

It looked like she had an ally, at least for a while.

Chapter 25

Scott and Tom followed the Noguchi woman through a deserted alley in the dark town. Scott wasn't sure where they were headed, but Noguchi moved with certainty.

He glanced over his shoulder from time to time, wary of the huge alien that brought up the rear. They had left the dead woman behind, soaked her corpse with fuel, and set it ablaze.

After listening to Noguchi's summary of what had happened in the last twenty-eight hours, Scott hurried to talk to her.

"Are you saying that they"-he tilted his head back at the giant "let those bugs loose on a populated planet so they could hunt them?" He kept his voice low.

Noguchi nodded. "Just a theory, but it fits. Except

I don't think his kind knew there were humans on Ryushi. And from his actions, they weren't supposed to be shooting at us. We haven't been here that long, and it looks pretty certain that they were here before."

Her voice was edged with dry sarcasm when next she spoke: "I imagine we would have remembered if they'd visited recently."

Tom stumbled behind them. Scott stopped and started to turn back, but the giant stepped forward and set the pilot back on his feet as if he weighed nothing.

Tom nodded at the creature, waved a hand, and moved to join Scott and Nogushi.

She continued talking. ". . . and I imagine our presence probably screwed up their plans."

Scott raised his eyebrows. "Screwed up their plans. Oh, that's great. I feel so much better knowing that this whole fucking mess was an accident."

Noguchi shrugged. "Hey, at least he's on our side."

"Until he gets hungry," Scott mumbled under his breath.

Noguchi stopped at the end of the alley and waited for the giant to catch up to them. She kept her revolver barrel pointed up.

"Okay. The stampede started just around the corner here; we're going to walk through its path and see if there's anything left alive that shouldn't be."

Swell.

Scott looked around for some kind of weapon. Besides a few small rocks, they were out of luck. They'd have to stick close to the woman.

The giant hefted a large spear and seemed to wait for Noguchi's signal.

"Go."

The alien and Noguchi crouched out into the open compound, weapons ready.

Scott's heart raced; he looked over at Tom, who shrugged. They stepped out together to join the other two. It wasn't as if they had a whole lot of choice here, now was it?

"Holy shit," Tom said.

Scott forgot his fear for a second or two.

The stretch of open ground was littered with dozens of bodies, rhynth, bug, and giant alien. Large patches of soil were eaten away to reveal charred black splatter-like stains, as if the blood from the corpses was toxic. The rhynth were cut or blown open, chests shattered, throats slit. The black bugs were mostly crushed, so also the giants.

The only light was from a sole street lamp that hadn't been broken or shot out. The resulting mix of dark and death and shadows was forbidding, ominous. Ugly.

"When you kill something, you don't fool around," said Scott.

Noguchi wasn't listening. Her gaze darted from side to side, her revolver still up.

The giant's head was cocked to one side, his stance ready. The two of them moved forward slowly.

The pilots stayed close.

The four of them made their way cautiously down the ravaged street, stepped over torn bodies and corpses smashed down deep into the cracked earth. Apparently this was where the fight had ended.

After a moment of tense silence, Tom whispered loudly to Scott as they followed their armed escorts.

"Do you think the stampede got them all?"

Scott started to reply, but stopped short. He had heard something behind them-the cry of a bird, perhaps, a chittering sound

Behind one of the storage buildings, sudden movement. Scott felt his mouth go dry. He had heard it before

"Run," he said, hardly able to get the word out. "Run.

Dachande heard the Hard Meat and spun around. He sprinted past the two ooman strangers toward the threat, staff forward. He was dimly aware that the small warrior was right behind. It shouted something at the other two.

They came in a single-file stream, flowed from around a structure, ten, maybe twelve. Dachande leapt to greet them.

Two arrived first, angled in from the sides. Dachande spun, swung completely around, cut them both through their midsections in one strike. He didn't watch them hit the ground; there was no need-they were dead and all he need do was avoid the throes.

He extended his kicti-pa and slashed through the throat of the next drone nearest, to his right.

The drone's death cry was garbled through its own thwei.

A split second later, he jabbed the staff point through the jaws of another, twisted the sharp blade and dug a hole through the top of the skull. The weapon's metal was proof against the Hard Meat's thwei, but there was no time to hesitate and enjoy the kill-when you fought the ten thousand, you did so one at a time, but you also had to do so quickly

He thrust the spear's butt back, hard, and knocked one behind him down, then turned and slashed its gut. Digest this, foolish creature!

The kicti-pa blurred again, jammed backhand into yet another Hard Meat chest. The drone howled, fell, did not die but did not rise again. Acid pumped into the dark air, pooled, smoking.

Dachande jumped forward, stabbed the throat of yet another, and then spun to meet the next. Death fell all around his feet as he and the Hard Meat danced.

Noguchi heard what sounded like a bird and turned; Broken Tusk was faster-he ran past the two pilots toward the main storage shed. He was eager and if he had any fear of the dark monsters, it was not apparent.

"Follow the tower around to the east lock!"

She would just have to hope that the pilots listened. She hurled herself after the warrior.

Several of the bugs streamed from behind the shed and toward Broken Tusk. He stepped in to battle without hesitation. Too many of them, ten, twelve. She aimed at one of the bugs-

-and it was dead before she fired. She took aim again-and again, her target had fallen already.

She took a step back, transfixed by the swift movements of the giant warrior.

Here was no inexperienced novice; every step was measured, every strike timed and sure. Within the space of a few seconds, most of the bugs were down, dead or dying. She had enough training to recognize a Master when she saw one. This one's skill had been gained in battle, against deadly enemies.

Broken Tusk whirled and jabbed, crouched and slashed with precision and confidence. Never a misstep, never a hesitation. He was no dojo tiger, covered in padding and fighting for points.

Wherever he had come from, they had a martial arts more complex and dangerous than any she'd ever seen. It was like a choreographed dance-

Except we don't have all day.

She aimed and fired several shots, then aimed and fired again. The last two shrieked and stumbled. Broken Tusk hesitated, confused perhaps, then finished them both with slashes to the gut.

"Sorry." Noguchi ejected the spent rounds and slapped in a loader. "But we've got to go."

Broken Tusk stared at her for a second, then raised one claw-in understanding or camaraderie, she couldn't know. She returned the move, then started toward the east lock.

The warrior caught up to her easily, then slowed and strode at her side as they rounded the front of the ops building toward the lock. He made thick growling noises, strange, but somehow not threatening.

Ahead, the lock was open. Conover stood by the control panel inside, face pale.

Noguchi heard now familiar chirping noises behind them, not far.

"Hurry!" Conover shouted.

Noguchi and Broken Tusk ran through the entry together. The door slammed down.

A second later there were several thundering crashes. The metal door shook as the nightmare creatures threw themselves at it, but it wouldn't give.

Noguchi collapsed against the frame and closed her eyes. They were safe, at least for the moment.

Safe-and fucked. They hadn't gotten them all.

The plan hadn't worked.

Chapter 26

So what's the plan?"

Noguchi didn't answer. She continued to take deep breaths, her eyes closed. The giant alien stood at her side, still enough to be a statue. Its face was turned to watch the woman, but the odd mask it wore covered most of any expression it may have had. Given the faces of some of the dead ones who'd lost their masks in the stampede, Scott was just as happy about that. Ugly bastards.

He stepped away from the door and started to pace. He was feeling pretty goddamn tired of not knowing what was going on.

"Look, lady, I realize that you're under a lot of stress, but you do have some idea of what we're going to do, don't you? The stampede didn't work out quite the way it was supposed to, obviously. Now if I were you, I'd start worrying about what-"

"What?" Noguchi had opened her eyes to reveal an icy anger. "If you were me, you'd worry about

what?"

He shut up. Then, "Well, shit. What next?" "Lay off, Scott." Tom sounded bone-tired.

Scott looked at his friend and felt his anger spark higher. Tom looked worse than he had before. Whatever he'd picked up was making him really sick. The younger pilot had fallen into a chair and rested his head on a console; his body shook.

Scott stopped in front of Noguchi and lowered his voice. "My friend is sick, okay? We have to do something."

Noguchi smiled softly, humorlessly. "No shit. But unless you or your friend come up with some brilliant revelation, I suggest you shut up; I'll listen to you when you've got something to say."

She closed her eyes again.

The spark fizzled. She was a cold bitch, but he didn't have any ideas to contribute. And he sure as fuck didn't want to lead this little party.

"Right. Sorry, okay? I don't feel so good. It's been a bad day."

Noguchi nodded, then walked toward an ops panel. "The colonists made it out safely, that's something. We've got power here, and supplies; we can hold out for a while here and come up with something."

"There's a screen still on over here," Tom said.

Scott and Noguchi both walked over to where the ailing pilot sat. The giant remained at the door, motionless.

Across the top of the small console was a series of numbers.

"That's my code," said Noguchi. "It's a hyperstat from the corporation substation! The ether driver got through."

She leaned in front of Tom and punched a few keys excitedly.

Scott blinked. Ether driver? What the hell was that? Some new equipment the company was too cheap to put on their ship? Shit.

He read over her shoulder.

Attn: Machiko Noguchi, Prosperity Wells/from BAE-683 Takashi Chigusa, New Osaka. re: possible XT specimens. Take steps to preserve all specimens of species described in Revna's report; nearest Marine ship will enter area at approx. 5/14. Keep BAR 683 apprised. Await further instructions.

YFNT677074/TC

Noguchi slammed her fist against the screen and stalked over to a chair. She plopped down and put one hand to her forehead.

"Five weeks," she said softly. "All we have to do is survive for five weeks."

As if on cue, there was another slam to the lock. A creature screamed, the sound muffled through the thick metal.

"And preserve for them 'all specimens,'" she said. She laughed. It wasn't a funny noise. Christ. Don't lose it, lady. We need you.

It was looking hopeless. Noguchi had never felt so frustrated in her life, or so angry. There was nothing she could do

"Well, fuck this!" Conover had started pacing again. "I say we scram out of here and join the colonists!"

She looked up at the red-faced pilot and shook her head. "Yeah? And how long before the bugs run out of food and head into the desert looking for more?"

Conover dropped his gaze and said nothing.

"I don't know about you two, but I'm tired of fucking with all of this. I want to finish this, and I want to finish it now." She wasn't sure how, but there had to be a way-

Conover snorted. "Sure, great. You gonna burn down the whole complex?"

Strandberg coughed loudly. "That wouldn't work, too many of them would"-he coughed again" would get away. It'd have to be something fast."

Noguchi started running off possibilities in her head. Maybe they could formulate some kind of bomb, or gas-

Conover jerked his gaze at Broken Tusk. "Why don't we ask the hulk over there? Maybe he's got a death ray or something."

Strandberg shook his head. "I'm serious. I think Ms. Noguchi had the right idea with the stampede, crush them like bugs-" He broke into a fit of coughing.

Noguchi looked at Strandberg with sympathy; he really didn't look well, and he had at least tried to be helpful-

The pilot had regained his wind and raised one hand weakly. "Something big enough to take out the complex and the ship at once-"

Conover interrupted angrily, "Forget it! I can't even believe you'd bring it up!"

Noguchi stood and faced the asshole pilot. "Don't hold out on me, Conover! If you know something that might stop those things-"

Strandberg started coughing again.

Conover glared at her and jabbed a finger in her general direction. "Look, I have some shares in this little investment along with everyone else! There is nothing we can do, okay?"

Strandberg tried to stand up, and fell to the floor. His coughing suddenly turned to hoarse choking sounds, and he spasmed and convulsed, clutched at his chest.

Heart attack or epileptic seizure

Noguchi took one step toward him and felt a hand on her shoulder. Broken Tusk. He hissed and hefted his spear.

Conover rushed to his friend's side and then stepped back at the sight of blood on Strandberg's abdomen.

"Tommy-?!"

Noguchi gasped. The convulsing pilot screamed again and again. And at the same time, there was the sound of ripping, shredding, the sound of flesh parting--

A creature the size of Noguchi's forearm burst through Strandberg's chest in a spray of red. Dripping with blood and slime, the animal looked surreal, its head dominated by rows of teeth. It coiled its long, flesh-colored body in the frame of Strandberg's bloody rib cage and screeched at them.

And jumped

Chapter 27

Dachande watched from the door as the oomans battled verbally. Although they did not give off a musk, the anger was clear. He imagined they were worried about their deaths and the proper manner of them, not an unreasonable concern in the situation. There might not be any witnesses to carry the tale to their friends and relatives, no one would know if they had died bravely or not, a concern to any warrior, of course. But in the end, they would know, just as he would know. All beings died, later, sooner, no one escaped the Black Warrior. But-if it happened in battle, did you meet the gods with blood on your blade, your laughter at Death still echoing around you? That was the thing; that way lay honor.

He had counted five of his students crushed into the soil on their way here, their weapons destroyed or missing. There was no way to know if there were more still alive, but he guessed not. He was vaguely disappointed in their performance, but they had been served with what they earned. Especially if they had followed Tichinde. The nature of would-be warriors was to obey the strongest among them and Tichinde had been that. Unfortunately, when a Hunt needed strategy and tactics, strength did not make up for stupidity. Even a good teacher could fail and that rankled, but one worked with what one was given.

Dachande watched the ooman debate with interest; the small warrior was in charge, and the other disagreed with whatever the small one wanted. He waited to see if there would be physical combat, but for some reason, the larger ooman did not strike. Dachande guessed the small one must be a Leader to merit such respect. He decided to support the warrior; from its actions so far, it was surely braver than the others. Certainly it stood in better balance, it flowed better.

When the third ooman fell and went into z'skvy-de, Dachande moved. The oomans had no experience with such things and did not recognize the eruptive phase. The small warrior stepped forward, but he stopped it, quickly explained the situation, and stepped past.

The larger ooman stood in his way. He pushed it aside and reached the ooman host just as the kainde amedha lunged forth.

The newborn creature snaked across the floor and almost made it under a table before Dachande lifted his spear and brought it down, hard.

He could feel the young drone's back snap beneath the weapon. Hot intestine squirted, blood hissed.

Dachande stepped away and looked at the oomans. He waited.

Scott couldn't seem to catch his breath. He was sprawled on the floor next to Tommy, where the giant had shoved him and Tommy was

"Oh, Jesus, no," he whispered. His voice sounded faint, far away.

Tommy still quivered all over. His fingers clenched and unclenched, and then nothing.

The giant had squashed the alien parasite quickly and neatly. It was over, that fast. And Tommy lay next to him, the slick innards of his body exposed, his eyes open.

Scott turned away and dry-heaved a few times, the retching bringing only sour spit. And then he understood.

He sat up stiffly and put a hand on his stomach. And coughed. And started to cry:

Noguchi grabbed someone's coat off the back of one of the chairs and draped it over the dead pilot. She shuddered and stepped back.

Conover's shoulders shook with grief.

Noguchi looked up at Broken Tusk, who watched mutely, and then back at Conover.

Broken Tusk had known. Her theory had panned out. For what that was worth at this point.

She crouched down next to the crying pilot and put a hand across his back. She kept her voice low, but didn't hesitate.

"I'm sorry about your friend, Conover. But I need your help right now, okay? Before Strandberg—"

She cleared her throat and started again. "He was about to tell me something-something that could wipe out the bugs; I need-"

Conover turned his tear-streaked face up to look at her. "You don't get it, do you? What happened to Tommy-that thing that was inside of him. We were together on The Lector. That means I've got one of those things inside of-"

The pilot's face crumpled in despair. He buried his face in his hands and started to sob loudly.

Noguchi let him cry for a moment, then patted him gently on the back. She felt like a real bitch for what she was about to say, but there was no way around it.

"You're not dead yet, Conover. We still need your help."

He continued to rock back and forth. "Leave me alone. I'm doomed, I'm a dead man." Noguchi stood up. "Maybe if you help us, I can help you."

Conover looked up at her and wiped his eyes with the back of one hand. "Are you a doctor? You gonna perform surgery and make me all better?"

Noguchi shook her head. "No, I can't do that. But you can have a shot at revenge-" She took a deep breath. "And I can make it quicker, easier for you."

The mixed look of pain and self-pity and gratitude on the pilot's face made her stomach clench. Conover was an asshole, but he didn't deserve to die for it. If she had one of those things inside of her . .

"Okay," he said quietly. "Fuck it. Yeah, okay"

Scott sat at the terminal, his eyes gritty and his hands trembling. He was going to die. He was going to die. The thought was a repeating loop in his mind, a horrible and constant statement of looming black truth. He was pregnant with a monster, he was going to die-

Scott shook his head and finished the sentence he had typed onto the screen; almost done. His stomach hurt, and with each second, it got worse. He coughed into his hand and tapped a few more keys. Real, or in his mind?

"Everything you need is on the disk," he said. His voice sounded dead, too.

Noguchi nodded. She sat next to him and watched carefully as he worked.

"Thanks, Conover."

"Scott," he said softly. It suddenly seemed very important that she knew his name. Because he was going to die.

"Thanks, Scott."

He felt a few more tears trickle down his face and into his beard. It had been like that for the last twenty minutes. Knowing you were about to die was bad, very bad.

"It's going to be tough getting in," he said.

"We'll find a way."

Scott nodded and glanced at the giant. It was back by the door, spear at its side.

"I don't doubt it," he said. He coughed, the painful spasm filling him with dread. He took a deep breath

and coughed again. It was getting worse. He smiled weakly at Noguchi. "You know, if this works, the company's gonna be really pissed." She straightened slightly and then laughed. She seemed surprised by the sound. So was Scott. You can still make a pretty woman laugh, Scott. "Fuck the company," she said. "Yeah."

On a sudden impulse, Scott grabbed at a piece of paper on the console and a pen. He made a quick sketch, studied the drawing for a moment, and then added a few more details.

He folded the paper in half and handed it to Noguchi.

"It's a going away present," he said. He coughed and pressed one hand to his stomach. He tried not to think about it-

You're going to die-

"It's a map of the ship," he continued. "I should have thought of it before."

She slipped the paper into a chest pocket and nodded. Behind them, at the door, the shrieks of the alien bugs had gotten louder.

"Sounds like every bug in the place is trying to get in," he said. "Well. All but one of them. It's already

in."

"We're ready to go." She stood.

Scott nodded and coughed again. He was going to die.

A kind of calm slipped over him, a sense of unreality that made him feel far away from all this. It didn't matter, not really. He should be scared, had been scared, but now, in this moment, he was somehow floating above it, watching himself as if he were someone else. It was a done deal, end of the line, and while he had never dreamed it would happen this way, here it was and what choice did he have?

At least he had helped. Maybe it would even make some kind of difference-he wouldn't be around to see, but at least he wouldn't be in pain, and the damn repeating line would end.

The giant alien walked over to meet them when Noguchi stood. It gestured with its spear at Scott.

Noguchi's voice came from the creature: "I can make it quicker, easier for you."

Noguchi held up one hand. "No. I made the promise, I'll do it."

The giant seemed to understand. It stepped back.

"Weird," said Scott. He coughed-and with it came an odd nauseous feeling. Like he had swallowed something alive.

"Just do it, okay?"

Noguchi held her pistol up. "Close your eyes, Scott. Count to three."

Scott closed his eyes. He sensed the barrel of the weapon behind his skull and he clenched his eyes tighter. He was afraid. But he was ready.

"I'll remember you," said Noguchi gently.

"One. Two-"

The warrior looked away from the fallen ooman and stood still for a moment. Dachande said nothing, but after a short span, he growled a time reminder at the standing ooman and motioned at the door. The Leader had done what a Leader had to do; there was no cure for an infected host and the larger ooman's death was quick and honorable. It had not fought or tried to run.

He moved to the dead ooman, judged where the unborn Hard Meat embryo was, and raised his spear. Looked at the remaining ooman.

The ooman nodded and turned away as Dachande drove the spear downward. Felt the blade hit the harder substance of the embryo. Felt it struggle to escape the point, then give up.

He pulled the blade free, hammered the shaft of the weapon with his free fist to shake the blood from it. Done.

The other ooman walked to join him. Glanced down at its dead comrade, then away. It looked tired. It motioned at a side entrance with its weapon and nodded at Dachande.

He nodded back and followed the small warrior to crouch by the entry. The drones still scrabbled madly outside the main door, but there were no sounds outside this one.

The warrior raised its burner. Dachande readied his staff.

The door opened.

Chapter 28

Roth yawned and glanced at her chrono for the third time in fifteen minutes. They were out in the middle of nowhere in a quick and dirty makeshift camp and she was watching the darkness for monsters. Monsters.

Life sure wasn't what you expected, at least never for more than a few minutes at a time.

The suns would be coming up soon, which meant her shift was about done. In the dim predawn light, she leaned against Ackland's AV and whistled softly for Creep. The mutt had wandered over to stand watch with Leo, an older Chinese man who always seemed to have candy in his pocket.

After a few seconds, Creep padded quietly through the maze of vehicles to join her. She scratched his

head.

"How's Leo, dog? Still awake?"

Creep whuffled softly and sat down, tongue hanging out. "I heard that, Roth," a voice crackled in her ear.

"You been feeding my dog crap again, Leo?" Roth spoke quietly. Most of the camp was still asleep, except for her and five others. On any normal night, they would've swapped jokes and insults, maybe taken turns napping. But the day before had been too long and too frightening. The shift had been tense and silent, and except for one false alarm when a few stray rhynth had wandered into camp, uneventful.

Leo chuckled. "Yep. You don't give him anything good; if I were him, I'd be hungry for something besides soypro in a can, too."

"You'd make a good dog, Leo."

There was a short pause and then Kaylor came online. "Sorry to interrupt, folks, but shouldn't Noguchi be here by now?"

Roth sighed. "Yeah, we know" Kaylor had a bad habit of stating the obvious.

Leo cut in. "Maybe someone should go back . . ."

He trailed off. No one replied. Roth concentrated on the twins suns as they sneaked up on the far edge of the desert and began to lighten the clear sky.

Twenty minutes later, the door to Ackland's AV banged open.

Roth jumped. She had been lulled into a trance by the silence and purity of the early morning. Asshole.

Within a few minutes, the camp was up. Bleary-eyed ranchers and their children stumbled out into the almost-cool air and trotted off to relieve themselves behind various rocks and low shrub.

Roth shouldered her rifle and rubbed at her eyes.

Sleep would be bliss, but she wanted to stay awake for a while and watch for Noguchi.

"Jame?" Cathie walked over with two cups of coffee.

"Thanks, hon. Get any sleep?"

Cathie smiled. "An hour or two, at least."

She handed Roth a mug and kissed her lightly. "I figured you wouldn't be ready for bed quite yet."

Roth motioned with her head at a small group of people who had gathered by Luccini's AV, Ackland and Weaver among them.

"What's the deal?"

Cathie shrugged. "Ackland's being a dickhead, what else?"

Jenkins arrived and took over from Roth. They nodded at each other.

As soon as the shift was covered, Roth and Cathie walked over to join the circle; several other ranchers had also stopped.

". . . and I think it's suicide!" Ackland looked blustery and irritated, as usual; Cathie was right, he was a dickhead.

"What's suicide?" Roth asked.

Weaver's cheeks were flushed. "Oh, nothing. Ackland is being a coward, that's all."

"Bullshit," said Ackland. "There's nothing we can do until the Marines show up, that's all! If one of you wants to go back and get killed, that's fine by me!"

Paul Luccini spoke up. He didn't talk much, but people tended to listen when he did. "The Marines might take a while, Ackland."

Cathie stepped in. "In the meantime, she could be hurt, or in need of help."

"Those are the chances she took when she accepted the job," said Ackland. His voice was now patronizing and slow, as if he were addressing children. "The Chigusa Corporation is responsible for the safety of the colonists, not the other way around."

A red haze seemed to settle over everything for Roth. She took a deep breath, tried to control it, but something snapped while Ackland spoke.

"You bastard!" She stepped forward and poked him in the chest with one trembling finger. "You can't shove this off on the company! You had me lie to Doc Revna about where we found those creatures! And it was your idea to sneak those rhynth past quarantine!" She took another step toward him. "I'm ashamed to admit to my part in it, but I take responsibility for my stupidity! What's your excuse?"

Ackland held up his hands, as if to defend himself. "Hey, look-you know what a hardass Noguchi is, right?" He searched the assembled ranchers for support. "I was just trying to protect my investments. Our investments."

Luccini spoke again. "Fuck the investments. I've got a family." Several others chorused agreement.

Weaver glared at Ackland. "You can say what you want about Noguchi, but when it came down to it, she risked her life to save all of us-including your ass!"

Ackland opened his mouth, his fat face angry-and then closed it again. He turned and walked away.

"He'd better pray she's still alive when this is all over," Cathie whispered to Roth.

Roth nodded. The rush of adrenaline was gone, had left her exhausted. She caught Weaver's gaze.

"Are you looking for volunteers?"

Weaver considered it for a moment and then shook her head. "No. Not yet, anyway. Machiko told us to wait, so we'll wait. If she'd not here by late afternoon, though . . ."

"Right. Let me know, okay?"

Roth and Cathie walked over to a makeshift table that had been assembled and stacked with trays of rolls and a couple of pots of coffee.

"Do you think she's still alive?" said Cathie.

Roth started to say no, but then thought better of it.

"If anyone could survive that place right now," she said carefully, "it'd be her." Dawn had come.

Broken Tusk stepped past her, out into the open compound, and then motioned for her to follow.

Noguchi crouched outside of the door and pointed left, then right with her handgun. It was clear.

She could still hear the screaming bugs around the corner to her right; they continued to slam into the main door, apparently unaware their prey had escaped.

Noguchi and Broken Tusk circled to the back. From behind them, Noguchi heard several loud cracks as the door finally gave up the fight.

Looks like they got tired of waiting for us to let them in-Broken Tusk glanced back at her. She pointed forward and he moved on.

Noguchi covered the rear as they headed to the other side of the ops building. They hurried, but didn't run. She took her cues from the warrior; he had dealt with these things before, and he stepped cautiously.

In spite of the situation, part of Noguchi could appreciate the dawn. The compound was illuminated softly by the early light, so unlike the Prosperity Wells sloe had known, harsh and glaring. It seemed tranquil and cool, like a dream

-or a memory

Pay attention here, Noguchi. Daydream when you don't have to worry about being eaten. Good thought, but a little late.

She didn't see the thing until it was almost on top of her.

Dachande heard the splintering of the weak door behind them as they circled. He wasn't sure of what the ooman warrior had planned, but he knew what he needed to know and it was simple: kill everything that got in their way.

The ooman pointed past him and then turned its back again; it watched for threats from the rear.

Dachande glanced upward and then went on. They should step a little faster. The drones would run through the ooman structure quickly, and then come back out. They were stupid, but good at finding live meat.

Dachande heard a cry from above and looked up again, too late.

A single drone howled and jumped, its long body twisted in the air. It landed behind him. In front of the ooman.

Noguchi spun. The hellish creature reached for her. She whipped her arm around, tried to aim, no time, fired

Missed.

The nightmare bug towered over her, shrieking.

Slime dripped from its metallic jaws. Its huge mouth opened, exposed a set of inner teeth, razor sharp. Noguchi stumbled backward as the inner jaws snapped forward and smacked into her chest. Something ripped. Hot pain seared her skin, blood flowed--she shoved the gun like a punch as the creature prepared to leap-

Before she could pull the trigger, the bug convulsed and shuddered wildly. A thick silver blade had suddenly appeared in the middle of its segmented torso. The thing's acid blood sprayed across the dusty floor, flowing toward her.

Noguchi passed out.

Dachande speared the drone in the back and then tossed the body across the ground. It wasn't dead yet, but it would be.

He spun, searched for others. He could hear the attacker's cry answered from structures all around. They would be here in seconds.

He scooped up the ooman and ran.

He had not had time to study the ooman dwellings properly, save the tower he had fallen from the night before-but the two larger oomans had been in one of the buildings nearby, he was sure of it. With luck, it was still safe. And the warrior had seemed to want them to head in that direction.

The warrior weighed almost nothing, hardly more than his staff. It made a low sound of pain as he pounded the dust. Speed was of the essence; he could not fight with it in his arms. The drone had clawed open the ooman's soft armor, armor now soaked in thwei. Red blood unlike his own. How different they were.

He heard screams from where he'd left the dying bug; it had been found. Dachande ran faster. She was flying.

Noguchi opened her eyes and blinked hard. Her abdomen felt shredded and her head ached.

Broken Tusk carried her. They ran through the compound, incredibly fast. Something had happened, she had been attacked-

She lifted her head slightly and panicked for a split second before she realized that the gun was still clenched in her fist. She winced at the pain in her chest and belly and closed her eyes again. Broken Tusk had saved her, but there was nothing she could do until he put her down.

From somewhere not so far away, the nightmare creatures howled.

Dachande saw the open entry to some long, low structure directly ahead.

The drones hadn't spotted him yet. He ran to the building, scanned the interior quickly, and ducked through the ooman-sized door.

It was empty. He set the warrior down carefully and then closed the door. He fumbled for a minute with the latch mechanism, and finally smashed the door hard enough to drive it into the frame. It was a flimsy barrier, the drones would get through it in seconds-but they didn't know where he was, not yet.

He turned to look at the ooman, and was surprised to see it sitting up. It still held its small burner-not aimed at him, but not down, either.

He approached it carefully and crouched down next to it to study the wound. The ooman seemed to protest at first, but relented quickly; it lay down.

He pulled the soaked padding away from the warrior's body and touched it gently. The ooman moaned.

"It's not going to kill you," he said. The ooman didn't reply. He tried again. "No thei-de, understand?"

It didn't understand. It babbled for a minute and then fell quiet again. Frustrating.

Dachande lifted the rest of the weak armor away from the warrior's chest and then hissed, surprised. If ooman anatomy was anywhere similar to yautja, this warrior was a female; he hadn't thought of it before. It had a pair of what were obviously milk glands.

Stupid! Of course it's female!

Yautja females were bigger than males; it was apparently the reverse for oomans. It had never occurred to him. That was stupid; simple mistakes like that could lead to bigger ones, fatal ones.

It also explained why this warrior was smarter than most of the yautja he taught. Females of any

species were usually smarter than the males.

Dachande assessed the wounds; minor. There was a fair amount of blood, but it had already stopped flowing, and most of the acid burns had been slowed by the armor.

He used some of the torn armor to stanch the wound and then sat back on his heels and studied the ooman. It watched him, curious perhaps.

They didn't have much time, but Dachande thought they could spare a few seconds.

He pointed at his chest and gave her his honorary name. "Dachande."

The ooman shook her head.

"Dah-shann-day." He stretched it out.

The ooman tried, but couldn't make the right sounds. Dachande shook his head.

She reached out hesitantly and touched his shortened mandible. The new style masks covered only the nostrils, leaving the fighting tusks bare. She said something in her own language, then repeated it.

Dachande tilted his head. It wasn't his name, but she seemed to understand the meaning. "Brr-k'in

dusg?"

The ooman exposed her teeth and then pointed at herself and spoke. Dachande tried. "Nihkuo'te?" The ooman shook its-no, her head.

He looked at the creature for a moment and then named her.

"Da'dtou-di." It was the feminine of "small knife." A brave name, and it suited her.

Da'dtou-di pointed at herself and did her best. "Dahdtooudee?"

Dachande hissed with pleasure. It was a start, and it was enough; it was all the time they could waste on pleasantries. Should they survive, they would talk later.

He stood. "Da'dtou-di," he said, "we must go."

The ooman got up, staggered slightly, and then nodded. She was all right. Dachande turned and walked to the door. He listened.

The drones had run past their structure and were assembling elsewhere. Which likely meant their nest was close by.

The Leader waited for Da'dtou-di to join him, feeling older than he'd ever felt before. His bones ached. He had been on many Hunts, dangerous Hunts, but for the first time, the outcome was not obvious. There were more drones here than he'd ever fought, and where there was a nest, there would

be a queen-the drones could do that, change to female when no others were around. And a queen was not an easy kill.

He sighed deeply. If his Final Hunt were not today, it would be soon.

Noguchi got to her feet carefully and fought off dizziness. Broken Tusk started to reach toward her, but she nodded and held up a hand. The wounds weren't as bad as she'd feared; the light-headedness was more exhaustion than anything else.

She joined Broken Tusk at the door and held her handgun ready. Her new name rang through her thoughts, Dahdtoudi. If someone had told her a year ago that she'd be fighting XTs with an alien warrior, the fate of a hundred people on their shoulders, she would have laughed for a week.

As it stood, she allowed herself a tight grin. It was actually pretty funny; she'd laugh later, if there was time. If she woke up.

Noguchi motioned at the door, then pointed toward the south, where The Lector sat. Broken Tusk tilted his head to one side in agreement.

Next thing you know, we'll be talking philosophy.

Broken Tusk growled something at her and then pushed her back from the door slightly. He had jammed it.

Noguchi stepped back and watched as the warrior took a deep breath-

-and the door flew open to expose one of the warriors, a twin to Broken Tusk, holding a spear, its arms raised to strike.

Chapter 29

Noguchi reacted without thinking.

She dropped her weapon to chest level and fired into the warrior's belly until her gun ran dry.

The warrior fell backward. Its strange gun discharged harmlessly into the air with a hollow thump and an eye-smiting flare. The spear it held in the other hand fell and clattered on the door stoop.

He had not had time to scream.

Broken Tusk jumped in a split second later, but it was done.

A low, guttural gurgle came from the dying warrior's throat, punctuated with a spew of thick, greenish, milky, almost glowing fluid.

Blood.

Broken Tusk hefted his staff and brought the weighted end down on the warrior's skull. The head split with a dull, wet crack.

Broken Tusk's posture indicated anger and sorrow, his huge shoulders tensed, head bowed. She had killed one of his people. Would he be angry with her?

Noguchi scanned the immediate area for other dangers and then looked at Broken Tusk again.

He was much more adept than the one she'd shot had been.

It dawned on her.

It would explain the difference in prowess, the difference in behavior Broken Tusk must be the commander.

Dachande was disgusted with himself. He had been so intrigued with the ooman female, so intent on opening the door, he had not scented the yautja.

It was Oc'd jy, one of his less adept students. The dead yautja's attack had been, as it seemed with all of their moves since they arrived, stupid. "Look before you shoot" was one of the cardinal rules. If you aren't sure of your target, the burner stays cold, the spear does not fly. Shooting a brother warrior accidentally was the height of bad manners.

And quarter-wit Oc'd jy breathing his last on the ground would surely have killed them both if Da'dtou-di hadn't fired first. No doubt of it. He was embarrassed that his students were so inept.

Dachande clattered a respectful appreciation to Da'dtou-di and then cracked Oc'd jy's head open. That his thick skull could no longer be any Hunter's trophy was a disgrace, and one he had earned. Too bad he had not broken Tichinde's. Ah, well. It was not likely anybody on this world would ever find the dead student, save for scavengers.

Dachande took a deep breath and frowned slightly. The yautja's musk, the h'dui'se, was weak, covered with the stench of dried feces and blood. At least that explained his inability to detect the student before . . .

He snatched the burner from the ground in irritation. A Leader should not make excuses; in Hunting, they did not matter-you died or you did not.

At least he had a decent weapon. Dachande checked it over and growled. Four more fires; not much, but better than his spear alone. Tichinde's burner had been empty.

He glanced at Da'dtou-di, who studied him carefully. He did not know contempt on an ooman face, but she probably felt it.

Da'dtou-di motioned again toward the nest as she finished reloading her weapon. Dachande tilted his head and stepped forward, slinging the burner over one shoulder. She was right; now was not the time for recriminations. He could dwell on his incompetencies later.

Maybe.

Noguchi pointed at the ship, only a few structures away, fifty or sixty meters. Broken Tusk moved again to the fore position.

They edged forward, Noguchi careful to check the roof.

They made it past the south end of the pen they'd been in before the first attack.

Broken Tusk walked into the open space between two of the pens.

Noguchi backed toward him cautiously.

He hissed a warning.

Noguchi spun, handgun extended.

Broken Tusk crouched, hissed again, his arms spread wide, spear pointed at the sky.

Two of the bugs sprinted toward them from the shadows of the alley, joined by a third. Then a fourth. And a fifth.

Dachande counted them quickly, then stood. Only five.

As the first two rushed to attack him, he sidestepped and thrust the bladed staff out.

The closest one caught it in the throat; it screamed, collapsed, hit the ground.

The second rammed its head directly into the durable blade; the top of its head sliced neatly from its body. Acidic blood fountained.

Da'dtou-di fired her burner from behind him, the sounds loud and sharp.

Two of the running drones fell. Four of five.

Dachande stepped in again to take out the last.

It seemed not to see its fallen siblings. The creature ran straight at him, shrieking. Dachande hopped to one side as the creature neared, spear held to the other side-except the drone hopped and matched his move. And hit him, running full speed.

Noguchi aimed past Broken Tusk and fired. The first two shots missed, but the third took out one of the black bugs, still a dozen meters away.

She trained and fired again, this time right on the target. A second fell, its corrosive blood sprayed and began to sizzle and eat into the nearest wall.

She tried for the last, but Broken Tusk was in the line of fire. Noguchi turned quickly, alert to other threats.

From The Lector or close to it, she heard what sounded like a hundred of the nightmares. They

shrieked and howled and pounded the earth, but none came into view. Noguchi spun, just in time to see the fifth bug barrel into Broken Tusk and knock him down. Dachande felt ribs snap as the drone tackled him. He'd lost his spear-The snarling bug drove its head downward, opened its mouth, exposed its inner jaws-he plunged his fist into its mouth.

The alien gagged and bit down. Dachande felt the dagger teeth pierce his arm but he drove his claws in deeper, dug deep into softer flesh-

The drone jerked its talons away from Dachande's throat and clutched at its own. The Leader brought up his other fist and slammed the bug's neck, hard.

The drone spilled to the side.

Dachande let the weight of the creature pull him over to land on top of it. He grabbed for the burner, that sent a shooting pain through his side-and brought the blunt end down on the bug's slender throat.

The drone let go of his arm and died.

Broken Tusk staggered to his feet and retrieved his spear. He turned and jogged toward her. His arm was dotted with green spots where the thing had bitten him.

If he felt any pain, Noguchi couldn't see it. She covered him until he reached her, and then turned toward the ship without her pointing to it.

He knew that much, and she had figured it out on the way.

They were going to where most of the creatures called home.

Dachande ignored the jabbing pain as they edged closer to the nest. The drones would surround their queen now, protect her. They made it past the second and third structure with no more attacks.

Da'dtou-di paused for a second to reload her burner. Dachande glanced at her thoughtfully.

She was the prey he had waited most of his life to Hunt. They were small but powerful, obviously more intelligent than the yautja had thought, and as brave as any warrior he had Hunted with.

Of course, Da'dtou-di could be an exception; she was obviously trained better than the other few oomans he had been in contact with. The kind one that had died, for instance, it was not trained to Hunt, and had been blind to the danger he could have represented.

He would have enjoyed Hunting oomans. But he was proud to Hunt at Da'dtou-di's side. This would be a tale to tell for generations to come . . .

The ooman saw that he watched her and raised her fist into the air. She exposed her teeth again at the same time, probably a sign of aggression.

Dachande still wore his mask, but he raised his arm also and then clattered, as loud as he dared, the Kiss of Midnight.

Kill or die. He was ready.

They crept into the open space in front of the shield wall as quietly as possible. Ryushi's suns beat down on the nearly lifeless compound. It seemed like hours ago that Noguchi had been thinking of how beautiful the town was. Not now. Especially since the heat of midmorning had taken on the cloying stench of rot and decay. A lot of bodies-humans, aliens, warriors-must be cooking in the hot sunshine.

The Lector seemed deserted from the outside. A lone dead rhynth lay on the ground in front of the ship, its intestines ripped out. It must have staggered from the stampede to die there . . .

Noguchi figured the bugs had nested in the ship, and that they waited there now, grouped to attack. Their actions reminded her of a bee colony, the way the drones of a hive lived only to feed and protect their queen.

She shuddered slightly at the thought; she wouldn't want to meet with whatever those monstrosities called "mother."

The distance to the ship slowly dwindled as they crossed the compound. Noguchi's heart thumped louder with each step. She stifled an urge to go back to the empty holding pen and study Conover's map for a while longer.

Like five or ten years.

Broken Tusk walked cautiously, but not too much so; Noguchi figured he knew something she didn't. That wouldn't take much.

As they neared the main loading entrance, her worries about what they would do if the door was closed vanished. The middle steel entry was halfway open as it had been when she and Mason had gone in-

Another pleasant thought. They reached the bottom of the ramp and Noguchi looked up into the black interior of the dock; the metal door was raised horizontally, exactly the right height to let the bugs come and go.

The bugs didn't seem too smart, but she wondered. Conover had spoken of one that was much larger than the others, that had slept near them when they were captives.

Queen?

She might have stood there for a lot longer, but Broken Tusk growled at her. Noguchi took it as impatience. She took a tentative step onto the ramp.

From somewhere inside the blackness, a low hiss.

Noguchi took another step, gun ready for the fast thing that moved. Broken Tusk was by her side, his weapon also out. He had slung the spear over his back.

The dark lock stirred, shadows shifted. She heard the clatter of alien movement, and then silence.

Broken Tusk moved in front of her. She let him.

They were halfway up the ramp when a sudden flurry of motion in the dark ahead of them surprised her. She fired into the dock, twice.

The gunshots clapped loudly in the still air. Whatever had moved wasn't moving now.

Broken Tusk made a few guttural sounds and then walked without hesitation to the top of the ramp. He turned and motioned at her to follow.

Noguchi joined him and peered inside. Nothing, at least nothing she could hear or see. It felt empty, too. But there was alien spoor all around. An odd, wet-metal smell. What looked like meaty chunks of slaughtered rhynth-or human.

She edged inside, adrenaline pumping. On the dark floor there were several of the unclassifieds that the Revnas had dissected, their spiderlike bodies curled and motionless. Dark shapes lined the walls. She looked closer and then shuddered. The Lector's crew, at least some of them, with chests ruptured, webbed like flies in the nest of a demonic spider. Some of them had not died easily, from the expressions locked on to their dead faces.

Where-?

A jagged hole at the rear of the dock answered her. The edges of the torn metal looked melted, scorched. All around it were bizarre formations of shiny black material. It stretched and hung in thick ropes, appeared both organic and deliberate.

It seemed twice as hot as outside in the burning sunlight with the humidity added. Noguchi took a shaky breath and then moved into the darkness. Broken Tusk walked ahead of her to the hole and waited.

She heard a chittering movement come from deep inside the ship somewhere, and steeled her nerves as she approached.

They were going to have to find the control room. Which meant going in, navigating a labyrinth of corridors, climbing two flights of steps, and unlocking a locked door.

Broken Tusk watched her for a second and then stepped into the hole.

Noguchi prayed silently to anyone listening, and followed him.

Chapter 30

Dachande went first.

He crouched down immediately and searched for life, sweeping back and forth with his burner. Nothing moved.

Da'dtou-di slipped in after him. He ignored her for the moment; she could take care of herself. What she lacked in skill, she made up for with intelligence; it would have to be enough.

He scanned the long dark corridor through the eyes of the mask. More of the alien spittle secretion, te'dqi, lined the steep walls. It was a brittle substance, but could provide camouflage for hiding drones.

The lenses showed nothing. He glanced at Da'dtou-di. Her sickly pale skin seemed whiter than before.

"Nothing, he said.

She babbled a short reply. The words were nonsense but the tone was watchful and ready. They crept forward.

Da'dtou-di stumbled behind him. Apparently oomans didn't see well in the dark. She followed closer.

At the end of the corridor, another door, open. Dachande heard the kainde amedha as they skittered somewhere beyond. He ducked his head to get through the portal and discovered that he would have to move in a crouch through the next hall; the ooman ceiling was lower here.

Dachande had gone into three nests before this one. But always with fully stocked burners and at least a handful of armed yautja with him. Not to mention that he felt like a month old Jet turd-his side ached from the drone attack and each deep breath burned somewhere inside. From his experience and the way he felt, the wounds were fairly serious. Well. Nothing to be done about it.

He wasn't afraid, Blooded warriors seldom were in battle. But he accepted that dying could come easily here. He hoped it would come with honor. The real pity would be that there would be no one to tell the tale. No one except a small ooman-assuming she survived as well.

They moved forward in the thick dark.

Noguchi tripped on something and caught herself before she fell. There was virtually no light. Every dozen paces or so, a small dim emergency torch set high into the wall illuminated just enough to make it seem darker. She could make out her own weapon and Broken Tusk's back; beyond that, nothing.

The warrior seemed to be able to see better. He must have done this a dozen times, and he obviously knew something about the aliens' behavior-

Noguchi felt her gut clench at the sound of movement ahead somewhere. She gripped her weapon tighter, her eyes wide and semi-blind.

They stepped into a second corridor, the air grew muggier as they progressed. Their footsteps were oddly muffled by the strange alien material that lay thick on the floor.

She should be in front, she knew that; Dachande had looked at the map Conover had given her, but his understanding of it couldn't be clear. Then again, he could see better, and was stronger-

As they neared the end of the second hallway, Noguchi heard another alien chitter, close.

From behind them.

Dachande whipped around at the drone's cry and pointed his burner.

Da'dtou-di had also heard it. She fired at the bug as it ran for them. The shot from her burner hit the drone in the shoulder and spun it around. It didn't fall. Dachande aimed his burner at the screaming creature. Light and heat spewed in a tight beam. The drone's back exploded outward in a spray of corrosive blood and cooked entrails. Footfalls. He spun. Two drones attacked from the front.

Dachande turned, got the first with his bladed wrist, a sharp slashing jab to the bug's throat.

The second clambered over its falling brother and reached for him. Dachande knocked it down, used the burner as a club to crush its jaws. Blood hissed over the durable metal and dripped to the floor, ate holes in the hard material.

Da'dtou-di inhaled sharply and fired past him, at a third drone.

And missed. The Hard Meat turned and sprinted away from them, down the third winding corridor, shrieking an alarm to the others. It was too stupid to be afraid so it must be a sentry.

Dachande cursed. Behind him, he was pretty certain Da'dtou-di did the same in her own language. He didn't need a translator to understand that.

Well, it just meant they'd have to hurry. He had hoped to make it farther . . .

The Leader picked up his pace and hit the hallway at a jog, Da'dtou-di right behind. Ahead, the Hard Meat waited.

She was terrified but ready. This had to be done or else the colonists would die-And you, too, Machiko. No shit.

At the end of the third hall, the corridor came to a T -junction. Noguchi pointed for Broken Tusk to turn left; she hoped she'd remember the rest as they came to it.

She moved blindly behind Broken Tusk. There would be a rung ladder on the right pretty soon-

-a bug hissed behind her. Noguchi turned and fired. The shots were deafening in the closed area. The alien's dying screams were quieter.

This was getting old real goddamn fast.

She turned again, just in time to see a bolt of hard light come from the warrior's weapon, accompanied by an echoey thud. It acted as a strobe, showed them a nightmare of dark limbs and shiny teeth.

More screaming.

Noguchi breathed the stifling air shallowly. Her body twitched and jumped as she searched the

darkness for the ladder. Her chest had started to bleed again. Maybe she was already dead and didn't realize it. Maybe they were in hell.

Dachande felt the ooman slap him on the back and turned.

Da'dtou-di pointed up, her face distorted. She seemed disturbed, as far as he was able to read her expression.

He eyed the flimsy ladder and then started to climb; the narrow rungs allowed him to take three at a time.

Dachande reached the top and looked down at the small warrior. She swung her weapon in an arc; dull light glinted off the small metallic burner.

He looked up again, reached for the floor of the next level-

-a clawed hand dropped down to cover his own. The black talons etched into his wrist, raising small fountains of his blood.

The drone bent down and hissed into his face.

Noguchi looked up just in time.

The bug leaned toward Broken Tusk and opened its jaws.

She aimed and squeezed. The AP bullet went into the alien's mouth and out the back of its head. It fell

Dachande stood up and hit the first drone to come at him with the weighted staff. It dropped, still alive but out of the fight. There was nothing behind it, at least for a few seconds.

He turned to cover Da'dtou-di on her climb, at the same time her weapon fire stopped.

A drone leapt at her, knocked her back against the ladder.

Dachande felt pure rage. He jumped from the second level, staff in front of him—

-and landed on the drone.

Like that, tarei hsan?

The drone did not. So he killed it.

Noguchi was dizzy. Broken Tusk stamped the life out of the bug that had grabbed her. He tucked her under his arm and ascended the rung ladder easily.

He set her down first and then pulled himself up after her. Noguchi reloaded her gun and then covered him, but the last few hissing shapes that were below

The ooman paused midway down the hallway and then pointed at a doorway with odd figures scrawled on it. Ooman language.

She spoke something. Dachande hit the animal loop on his suit to record, in case it might later be helpful. Da'dtou-di motioned at him and then again at the door.

She wanted him to stay here?

Dachande growled, but Da'dtou-di was adamant. It was important to her.

It had been a long time since he had trusted another in battle. And now he was being asked to trust an ooman, not even an un-Blooded yautja!

She held up her clawless hand again and then backed away a few steps.

Dachande tilted his head at her.

Da'dtou-di spoke again and bared her teeth at him. And then she turned and ran ahead. He could take her head off with a swipe of his wrist blade and yet she showed him her teeth. Brave Little Knife. If she risked his wrath it must be important to her indeed. Well.

This was her kind's ship. She surely knew things about it he did not. She must have a plan.

Dachande stayed.

He tilted his head, which she thought meant affirmative.

Noguchi felt a rush of relief. She didn't want to part with him in this hot, deadly maze, but she'd need a clear path to get back. She only had maybe a dozen rounds left. It did not matter how good the ammo was if you were out of it; she hoped Broken Tusk had more for his weapon.

"Hold the fort," she said, and grinned tightly. She was scared and she hurt, but it felt powerful to be doing something. Something that might kill the infestation in her town . . .

You hope.

"I'll be back when I'm done."

With that, she turned and ran. And prayed that he would be there when she got back.

If she got back.

The second ladder looked empty, but she couldn't see the top. The strange alien formations were thicker here, looped around the rungs and covered the wall.

She checked behind her again and started to climb, revolver in hand. A drop of odd, warm goo smacked onto her arm. Then another.

She looked up.

Da'dtou-di hadn't indicated if she wanted the door he guarded open, but Dachande opened it anyway. The ooman wanted him to watch it for some reason.

It was locked, so he pounded at the frame with the end of his staff until it cracked.

It was a tyioe-ti, an escape pod, small but large enough for the two of them. He stepped in and surveyed it quickly. Not a nesting area. Three oomansized chairs and a panel of controls. He'd never be able to squeeze into one of those tiny seats to fly this craft.

He turned and stood at the entry to wait for Da'dtou-di. And he heard a resounding crash from the direction they had come from, followed by a low, scratchy hiss.

Dachande tensed. It was a sound he had heard before.

A queen. Heading in this direction.

Was it the one they had brought on their ship, egglayer of their prey? Or had one of the drones shifted hormones and metamorphosed into a female?

Not that it really mattered, just at the moment.

He waited.

Noguchi looked up and stopped breathing.

One of the bugs had leaned down from the third level, its long, misshapen skull right above her. Another drop of slime fell from its jaws

She brought her pistol up and rammed the barrel into its mouth. She jerked the trigger again and again.

The creature didn't even cry out. It fell past her with a clattering thud. It was a small miracle that none of its acidic blood splashed onto her.

Her hands shook as she topped the ladder. Surely there would be another at the top, waiting to tear at her, to rip out her throat

Noguchi pulled herself up and on to her knees. The platform was coated heavily with the dark alien material, but otherwise empty.

She jumped to her feet and ran down the hall. At the end was another tee. Without hesitation, she took a right and continued on. The hot, sticky air made it a struggle to breathe. It smelled like rotten mushrooms in here.

It wasn't until two more turns in the twisted corridor that she realized she had gone the wrong way.

Dachande took a deep breath and waited. There was no doubt that it was the queen, or that she was headed toward him.

Drones were target practice, but a queen egglayer

No lone yautja had ever survived combat with one, unless he had a burner. Once, a dozen Blooded warriors had taken one down with only blades and spears, but the queen had killed nine of them before she died.

Metal creaked and groaned from below. At least he still had a fire in his burner. Two of them. A crest of shiny black appeared at the top of the ladder . . . Dachande pointed and fired. Missed.

The Hard Meat ducked and screamed, but was uninjured He took aim and waited for her to come up.

Nothing happened for several beats. Dachande remained ready.

Suddenly she howled and a dark shape sprang into view at the top of the ladder.

Dachande fired, his last shot.

The head of the creature exploded.

He roared in triumph and threw the empty burner at the bubbling mess. The useless weapon skipped over the platform and disappeared. He had killed her, had Hunted a queen and killed her! The stories of their intelligence and skill had been wrong, she had been an easy target

The queen hissed again and the crest of her unmistakable skull rose into view.

Dachande's eyes widened. But he had blown her to pieces-!

Decoy. She had sent a drone to take the shots; he had been tricked.

But how could she know that-- ?

It didn't matter. The deadly queen was alive, and she was coming. S'yuit-de!

He watched as two huge talons screeched across the metal platform and pulled the grinning monster into view.

Noguchi didn't bother with the map. She knew where she'd fucked up.

There was a second of initial panic. She'd actually left him there to wait for her, stupid, stupid-!

Noguchi brought it under control and turned back.

She was almost back to where she had taken the wrong turn when one of the nightmare creatures leapt out of nowhere to land in front of her.

She pointed and fired several times. The snarling animal shrieked and fell.

Behind it was another. She pulled the trigger again, and it toppled on top of the other. There were no others.

Idiot! Your ammo!

A cold hand clutched at her heart. The gun was empty.

She ejected the spent shells and loaded the final rounds, hands shaking harder now. Six rounds.

Noguchi came to the tee and ran straight. For one terrifying moment she felt totally lost, but then she saw the door. Yellow and black lines, just as Conover had said.

She aimed as carefully as she could and blew the lock off of the door. Bits of plastic and metal spewed and stung her face and hands. The door opened to reveal a room full of panels and screens. This was the central computer room, according to what Conover told her. The ship's brains.

Noguchi slammed the door behind her and ran to the second chair. Second chair, straight on, disk slot next to red and black strip

She hit the transmitter's power switch and waited for the panel to light up. She took Scott's disk from her pocket and held it tightly. The seconds stretched like minutes. Hours. Eons . . .

There was an empty coffee cup on the console in front of her with "Conover" stenciled on the side. She felt a stab of pity for the pilot; he had died bravely.

The screen glowed to life with a stream of numbers and letters at the top. She carefully inserted the disk into the slot and pushed the lock button.

The computer hummed and blinked. Noguchi felt her breath catch.

If this doesn't work, you're dead -

A light flashed: Dir .received / pil. S.Conover, 93630/navigational complete.

She slapped the board. "Yes, yes, yes!"

It had worked.

She turned just as the door burst inward.

Dachande straightened his back and took a deep breath. If this was to be his Final Hunt, he would die fighting. Combat against a queen with only a staff-it was an honor. He would fight and he would lose but that was the only choice.

From the way Da'dtou-di had gone he heard her weapon crash several times. He tuned it out. She would have to complete her mission alone.

The queen was huge, twice as large as a drone. Her arms were longer-she had a second, smaller set

protruding from her chest-her crown sleek and branched almost like antlers. Her double jaws held more than two rows of shiny teeth. And being female, she would know how to fight.

She moved toward him slowly. Her long, pointed tail dragged across the metal floor.

Dachande raised his staff and held it out slightly, legs spread wide. If she came at him like he thought she would, he would get in at least one clean cut.

The queen towered in the corridor, bent almost in half to move.

Dachande held steady. He said, "Come, Hard Meat. I killed your children. Come and join them." An unlikely boast and neither could she understand it, but smiling into the face of Death was said to sometimes unnerve even the Black Warrior.

A sudden noise behind him called for his attention, but he didn't take his eyes from her.

She swung her head to look past him and hissed.

Dachande's eyes flickered. Was there someone-?

The queen leapt-

Noguchi blew the bug's brains across the hall with two shots.

The dark jellied mass splatted against the corridor wall and ran down in clumps.

She jumped over the corpse and into the passageway. She sprinted for the tee.

It was over, or it would be soon. The barge was going to fall like a meteor, like an atomic-powered meteor and when it hit, it would take out what was left of Prosperity Wells. And the rest of the alien brood. There wouldn't be anything remaining here but a smoldering crater.

The escape pod should get them far enough out of town-

At the turn to get back to the ladder, the corridor beyond exploded into motion.

Noguchi let out a cry and then aimed at one of the bugs that sprang for her. The bullet knocked it down, still shrieking.

Two shots now, only two left-

Noguchi reached the top of the rung ladder down to the second level. The ladder was twisted, torn loose from the wall. Shit-!

"Broken T-!"

She stopped. Below her, the warrior stood. And faced one of the nightmare creatures, a giant, huge, it filled the entire corridor!

At the sound of her voice, the monster looked up and hissed, a horrible, raspy sound that chilled her to the pit of her soul.

-Queen-

It spun and lashed out at Broken Tusk as Noguchi aimed her handgun at it.

The impossibly long and heavy tail crashed against the warrior's chest. His spear flew and he was knocked flying.

She heard the sound of the impact from where she was. Broken Tusk smacked against the door he guarded and bounced off it. His blood seemed to glow against his dark armor. He didn't move.

Noguchi fired, her chest tight. The queen screamed and turned toward her.

The bullet missed.

Without thinking, Noguchi jumped to the second level, revolver in front of her. One shot left. One chance.

Her knees buckled as she hit the platform, but she didn't fall. The queen shrieked and started for her. Noguchi prayed that one bullet would stop her--fired-

-and the monster fell backward, screamed, and thrashed on the floor. Chest shot. Not dead, but down.

Noguchi ran to Broken Tusk. She dropped the empty weapon. The nightmare queen's tail lashed out and would have knocked her down if she hadn't jumped.

Broken Tusk took the lash again in the chest. Blood spattered.

Noguchi kicked at the door to the escape pod and stumbled. The inner hatch was open.

The queen screamed, a piercing howl. Her death chant, Noguchi hoped.

She bent over the injured warrior and got one arm under him. With strength she didn't know she had, she lifted with a grunt-

-and he slid with her into the pod.

Sweat ran down her face. She pulled again, and his feet cleared the door. No time, no time

She half fell into a chair in front of the panel and searched frantically for the control. Behind her, the alien screamed again in pain and fury.

Broken Tusk groaned and rolled toward Noguchi.

Noguchi found the button, right in front of her. In her panic she had missed it. Movement behind her. A scream that sent hot, charnel, rotting air across her back. She half turned, hand on the button

-and the queen was there, her head in the pod, her huge claw came down

-and embedded in the warrior's shoulder.

Broken Tusk screamed.

Noguchi slammed the door's override button.

The thick metal door closed. The grinning head seemed to rush at her--and then toppled to the floor as the pressure door, designed to seal the ship against hard vacuum, crunched the exoskeleton of the monster's relatively thin neck and beheaded the queen.

Her disembodied hand was still buried in the motionless warrior's back.

Noguchi hit the next button.

And they were free of the larger ship, flying.

The pain was bad, but Dachande let it happen.

He didn't understand it for a moment. It. Something. Da'dtoudi, was she here? Had they killed her? He felt oddly weightless for a short time

---flying-And then the floor rose up and slammed against him.

There was a burst of new pain. Gravity returned, with more aches than he'd ever had. He was hurt, badly hurt.

Then a rush of hot, clean air. Light assaulted his eyes. His breathing mask was gone. Too much of the planet's combustive oxygen flooded into his lungs. He couldn't last more than a few hours breathing such potent air.

He coughed. Warm liquid ran down his throat, but it still felt raw, wounded. A shadow moved over him. He was lifted slightly and pulled.

He growled in pain but couldn't seem to form a protest. The air blinded him. He was outside.

He opened his eyes slowly and focused on the face that hovered over his.

Da'dtou-di!

He felt a burst of pride. She had survived, had helped him.

Dachande started to speak and coughed again. More pain.

He reached for the loop on the arm of his suit, but his fingers had grown clumsy.

Da'dtou-di placed her fragile hand under his and moved it for him.

Noguchi's throat felt tight. There was a stone in her chest, heavy and painful. Pale blood covered the warrior, his breathing slow and labored. He was dying.

They had made it. The pod had landed with a jarring impact somewhere in the east desert, far from Prosperity Wells; the chute had opened at least. But ...

Broken Tusk raised a shaky hand toward his other wrist, but couldn't seem to maneuver it well. Noguchi guided it for him.

It was the recording device. She felt her eyes brim as her own voice spilled out.

"Hold the fort. I'll be back when I'm done."

Broken Tusk grabbed at the alien claw, still embedded in his shoulder. "Hang on," she said. "Help will be here soon, the colonists will come-" She faltered and choked. Then gave him what she felt he needed. "We did it. We killed the bugs. The queen. You and I" She waved her hand, feeling helpless.

He pulled the queen's claw loose and looked at it.

She pointed at it, nodded, made a throat-cutting gesture.

He understood. She was sure of it, because he nodded in return. Then he grasped one of the long, spidery digits and snapped it off, groaned with the exertion. Hissing blood dripped from the finger.

Broken Tusk then motioned at the mark on his face, a jagged bolt between his eyes. He motioned at her and then at the scar again.

Noguchi nodded and leaned closer.

Da'dtou-di had to be Blooded. It was his responsibility, as Leader.

Dachande tore off one of the queen's fingers. It hurt to move, to breathe, to live, but this was important; it was all he had left.

Da'dtou-di came closer, closed her eyes. Something wet splashed on Dachande' face; he ignored it. It was time.

The warrior dipped one claw into the alien blood and then spat on the claw. His own blood mixed with the alien's acidic ichor. That was part of it. His blood would partly neutralize the potent chemicals from the Hard Meat. Moving with great care, he reached out and etched his mark into her pale skin, on the forehead, between her eyes. He managed to keep his hand from shaking long enough to draw his symbol.

She hissed in pain, but didn't move. She was brave, Little Knife. She had helped him and they had killed the queen. That was something to take and lay at the feet of the Black Warrior.

Dachande dropped his hand, exhausted. The animal loop played again, some ooman speak from long before. It didn't matter; he had been ready for a long time and now was the moment. He had no complaints.

He wished he could talk in her language, teach her what he could-be brave, Hunt well, respect your Leader. But she already knew most of that. The rest, she would surely learn. She was Blooded now, and somehow she would learn. Even though they had only been together a short time, he knew all about her.

The best student he ever had.

Tears fell before Broken Tusk even touched her. She started to wipe at her eyes, but then closed them instead. The dying warrior was going to give her his mark, she understood what he wished. She leaned down.

The pain was short and burning. A trickle of green blood ran down her nose.

Broken Tusk dropped his hand, and her voice spoke again from the loop, softly this time.

"I'll remember you."

Noguchi lowered her head and started to sob, the first real tears she had cried in a long time.

Behind them, a light appeared in the sky. A ball of flame plummeted through the Ryushi sunlight, headed for Prosperity Wells.

Noguchi glanced behind her as the explosion thundered through the desert. The air around her compressed suddenly. Fiery air washed over them with the sound, the roar and rumble of it.

When the sound died, the town was gone. As quickly as that.

She turned back to the warrior. Buried her face in her hands and rocked slowly, back and forth. Dachande had stopped breathing. Like the town, he was gone.

Epilogue

Dahdtoudi woke up early on the morning they came.

It was first light on the open plain that unfolded in front of her small home. She yawned and stretched as she climbed out of bed and glanced out the window. The air felt different somehow, electric.

Only two years before, she would have disregarded the sense of change as nonsense, superstition. But "quiet" didn't start to describe the experience of living on a world where she was the only human; she had developed a feel for Ryushi, the way an athlete could feel her body and its fluctuations. The air was different, no question. Something was going to happen.

Something.

She pulled on a coverall and slipped on her boots. She pulled her shaggy hair into a knot at the back of her neck as she walked into the tiny kitchen for a glass of water. The new well between her home and the near cliff was clean, the water sweet. No more riding twenty klicks for a shower at the old well, either.

Dahdtoudi drank the cool water slowly and thought about the day ahead. Yesterday, she had run through forms, so today was weight day. Also water day for the sheltered garden in the glassed shed behind the house. Tomorrow she would ride the east sector and check for visitors . . .

She finished and set the glass in the sink. It was feeding time first.

Dahdtoudi walked outside and almost tripped on Creep. The dog jumped and wagged his tail, excited to see her.

She scruffed the dog behind his ears. "I'm excited, too, Creep. It's been what, six hours since last we

met?"

Creep barked happily and followed her to the rhynth pen. He ran between her legs and almost knocked her over.

"Dumb dog," she said fondly. He barked again.

She couldn't look at the mutt without thanking Jame and Cathie silently. Creep had been good company, had kept loneliness from getting too big. They had acted as though it would be best for the dog, to be able to run free-but the gift had been for her, too.

"Good morning, kids."

The three rhynth that she kept turned their heads slowly to watch her approach. Spot, Milo, and Mim. They weren't as good at conversation as Creep, but they were tame. They also acted as transport; she had a flyer, but eventually her fuel would run out, so she saved it for emergencies. Keeping them as pets made it harder to eat meat, but it was a matter of survival. Besides, she only had to hunt once every two months or so ...

Dahdtoudi dumped some grain in their trough and scratched Mim behind her leathery ears. The beast snorted and started to eat as if she'd been starving.

"Should have called you 'pig,'" said Dahdtoudi. The rhynth ignored her.

She walked back to the house and sat down on the front porch to watch the suns rise. There was enough light for her to see the queen's skull, bleached by the hot suns where it perched on her roof. Her trophy, hers and Broken Tusk's.

Creep lay down next to her and nuzzled her legs.

"What's different today, dog? Something is different."

Creep glanced at her and then rested his head on his paws. She patted his side and smiled.

They had been here alone for almost two years. After Broken Tusk had died, she had joined the colonists for the long wait. It had taken nearly two months before help had arrived, and by then her decision was made, was firm. Was irrevocable.

At first a couple of the ranchers had argued with her, but they soon gave up.

The company hadn't tried to change her mind at all. She could have been charged with something, however trumped up the charges would have been, but the final word was that "her actions had been dictated by necessity." Her executive contract had been quietly bought out, which was fine by her. Chigusa was worried about liability and declared the whole thing a write-off. The old man wasn't stupid. He gave her a permanent, official position as a "caretaker," and pulled his interests out of the Cygni system. He never threw good money after bad, so it was said, and he was superstitious about staying on a world so cursed as this one. The galaxy was full of worlds and the old man owned hundreds of them. He would never miss this one.

Only Roth and her spouse and Weaver had seemed to understand why she wanted to stay.

So the colonists had gone to start over again in the Rigel system, and she was left alone to start over on Ryushi. And she had been happy. For the first time in her life, there had been no dragons. There was only peace.

"Everything I care about is right here," she said softly.

Creep sighed, most likely bored. She'd had a lot of time to replay conversations and events in her mind, and the dog had suffered the same stories for two years.

A flash of movement in the morning sky caught her attention. For several seconds she thought she was seeing things; it had been so long . . .

The flash grew brighter and brighter. She watched its progress as it ripped through the air, the sound far away. Creep sensed her excitement and sat up, whining softly.

The object fell gracefully in an arc to land to the west, maybe half a day's ride by rhynth, maybe less. Dahdtoudi Noguchi stood quickly and tried not to get her hopes up.

Probably a meteor, that's all . . .

But she didn't really think so. She went to get ready.

Seven hours later, she dismounted Milo and moved through the harsh sunlight toward a small stand of rocks. She carried her binoculars and carbine; the company had left her with plenty of supplies.

A thin stream of smoke still rose from where the object had landed, in a small valley set among a stand of steep rock walls.

Dahdtoudi slipped between the rocks silently and propped herself up on a baked stone. She scanned left to right until she picked up the smoke

A small vehicle on treads buzzed across the cracked dirt, maybe a hundred meters away. She zoomed in, her heart hammering.

Behind it was a trail that extended beyond her range of vision. A trail of spheres, oval-shaped

Dahdtoudi lowered the viewer and stood for a moment. She rubbed absently at the jagged scar between her eyes, faded white now.

"It won't be long," she said. She would make them understand, tell them of Broken Tusk's bravery and skill. And how everything had gone wrong . . .

Milo gazed at her. She stretched her sore muscles and then mounted him for the ride home.

The Leader sighed inwardly at the yautja assembled before him. They were as ready as he could make them, pumped and hungry to kill. They stood in line next to the ship, their burners loaded and blades sharpened.

But he also had orders to seek after Dachande's group on this Hunt, an extra pain he could have done without. That ship had never returned.

He had known Dachande. Old broken tooth had been a good Leader and a strong warrior, but something had gone wrong, and those in charge wanted to know what. As they always did when it was not they who had to determine it.

Vk'leita shook his head as he reviewed the young yautja. He had Hunted with Dachande, he respected him, as had many, but he was surely dead, and dead was dead, all that mattered was the way of it. More than a long cycle had passed, probably too much time to ascertain much of anything. The dead from that trip would be sun-grayed bones scattered by the local scavengers by now.

He nodded at the other Blooded, Ci'tde. Ci'tde would take the group on the initial scouting trip. The Hunt would start in earnest after the light fell away.

The Leader stayed at the ship and ran through some practice drills while he was alone. Young males took a lot of energy to train, and he relished the time away from them. Besides, he would have to check the ui'stbi, the geography, for remnants of recent Hunting. He could do some through the ships' gkinmara, but much would have to be done on foot. He was looking forward to stretching himself, covering ground, loosening up the ship-stale muscles.

He finished practice and then sat on the ground to clean his armor. The yautja would not be back until the suns had passed through their high point, so he had plenty of time . . .

Behind him, a sound of movement.

Vk'leita was on his feet instantly. The sound had come from the other side of the ship. He snatched up his burner and started toward the sound.

He reached the front of the ship and let out a warning hiss.

Nothing.

Suddenly a small figure stepped into view. Vk'leita pointed at the creature and almost fired--

—he lowered the burner uncertainly. The creature was no yautja, it was the size of a child-but it wore armor and a wrist blade. The creature moved slowly toward him, hands out.

Ooman!

The Leader raised his weapon again. The sickly, pale, ugly face of it It stepped closer and tilted its head to one side.

He could have fired. Had the other yautja been there, he might have, that was the proper response to a threat. But this small creature did not seem particularly threatening, even though he knew the stories. And neither did it seem to be afraid. If anything, it carried itself proudly, almost as if it were a warrior. Oomans were supposed to be cowards, sneaky, deadly when cornered, but seldom stand-up face-on fighters. And it made him curious.

"Who are you?" said Vk'leita.

The ooman pointed at itself. "Da'dtou-di."

Vk'leita flared his mandibles. The creature's accent was awful, strange, but he understood. Female? An ooman female? The name was "small knife," feminine form

Going against a lifetime of training, the Leader re-slung his burner and moved closer. This bore investigation. The ooman stood still.

When he was a few paces away, he stopped and eyed the ooman carefully. It wore tresses like yautja, and carried the weapon; its pieced-together armor was part warrior-he recognized the Hard Meat shell-and part unknown.

The ooman motioned at itself again. "Da'dtou-di," it said again. It reached up and touched its face.

The Leader peered closer. It had a mark on its head. It looked like-no, it couldn't be. He took another two steps and bent to stare at the ooman. It did not flinch as he practically stuck his mask in the thing's face.

The mark-

It was Blooded! A Blooded ooman! That couldn't be! It was not possible. But there was the mark, right there! and, and-the mark was-

Dachande's.

What the unholy pack?

Vk'leita growled. "You know Dachande? Where is he?"

Da'dtou-di shook her head and then pointed at him. She touched her own face again, now where mandibles would be if she were yautja. With one of her fingers, she mimed a break.

As if a mandible were broken. Dachande.

"Go on."

The ooman used her hands as teeth and made tearing movements with them. Then motioned "Dachande" again. Thei-de. Dachande was dead.

Da'dtou-di moved closer to him and then cautiously reached up to rest her tiny hand on his shoulder. She greeted him.

Vk'leita tilted his head, fascinated, and returned the gesture. This was unheard of. He was standing here as if he had a brain listening to a packing ooman talk to him in sign language, telling him about the death of a Blooded warrior. She was ooman, but she called herself Da'dtou-di in the warrior's tongue. She bore Dachande's mark, no way around that, no warrior would tell an alien what that mark meant, much less how to apply it, not under any circumstances. And she had come to him to speak of Dachande's death. But something else, too . . .

"Hunt?" Vk'leita asked. "You've come to Hunt with us?" He unsheathed his blade and made jabbing movements in the air.

Da'dtou-di tilted her head and exposed her small teeth. She raised one arm into the air and threw back her head. A long, strange cry came from her, of aggression and eagerness, he guessed.

The Leader listened to the eerie sound and then circled the ooman. She was little, but moved well; she carried the marks of a warrior, and she had known Dachande. He studied her thoughtfully.

This was unprecedented, but there was really only one option. She was Blooded. However it had come to be, there it was. The rules of the Hunt had never been stretched so much, he was sure of that. But what could he do? He was a warrior, he had his code and he had lived his life with it too long to deny it now. He would let her Hunt with them. Perhaps they could exchange languages, and he would learn Dachande's fate. Perhaps she would choose to leave with them, to return to their home and teach them ooman ways, surely that would be a great victory, to have found an ooman warrior?

Well. Perhaps covered much of the galaxy, didn't it? Who could say?

The Leader raised his own arm and howled. After a moment, Da'dtou-di joined him.

There was much that they could teach one another.