"Cut the c.r.a.p..." MacArthur replied. His mouth snapped shut. The unmistakable sound of a double sonic boom rumbled across the valley. His eyes jerked up into the sky.

"A lander!" Buccari shouted. "That was ours!"

A thin cheer rose from the rocks. Joy was short-lived; the mortar harrumped harrumped into activity, a screaming whistle followed, and the first of many explosions showered rock and dirt over their heads. The mortar rounds landed with accuracy, exploding around the dug-in humans. Granite rocks shielded them from the direct effects of the blasts, but the rocks also provided a mult.i.tude of hard surfaces. Shrapnel careened from all directions; ricochets screamed and pinged crazily. into activity, a screaming whistle followed, and the first of many explosions showered rock and dirt over their heads. The mortar rounds landed with accuracy, exploding around the dug-in humans. Granite rocks shielded them from the direct effects of the blasts, but the rocks also provided a mult.i.tude of hard surfaces. Shrapnel careened from all directions; ricochets screamed and pinged crazily.

MacArthur heard Buccari cry out and was immediately at her side.

"Where're you hit, Sharl?" he asked, near panic. Buccari's head was back, mouth gaping, struggling to breathe.

"I'm...I'm okay, Mac," she gasped, sucking air. "Get back." "You're hit!"

"I'm fine, Mac," she wheezed. "I slipped and knocked my wind out." She flexed her left arm and wiggled her fingers.

MacArthur gently pulled her away from the rocks and saw blood trickling down the granite boulder. Frightened, he peeled the shredded, red-sodden jumpsuit from her shoulders. Another round exploded nearby, and another. He ducked low, clasping Buccari in his arms as killing shards buzzed about their shelter.

A brief lull ensued. A smattering of return fire from the humans filled the void. MacArthur shifted his position and carefully examined the lieutenant's injuries.

"You're lucky," he said, exhaling with relief. "The bleeding is already stopped, and I can see metal. The fragments were spent when they hit you. Bite on this!" He handed her his knife scabbard. "I'm going to dig them out."

MacArthur was quick. Warm splinters of shrapnel dropped to the ground, clinking wetly on the rocks. He wrapped hide and strips of b.l.o.o.d.y material tightly around her torso.

"That's all I can do," he said. He made her put on his coat.

"Thanks, Doc," Buccari breathed heavily as the pain receded. "Will...will I still be able to play the accordion?" She sat upright and leaned gingerly against the rocks. A mortar round thudded to ground close by, and more shrapnel screamed around them. She ducked into his arms, moaning in pain and fear. MacArthur hugged her pa.s.sionately.

The mortar fire stopped, and he pushed her away, not looking at her face. He tried to hide his tears.

"What's wrong, Mac?" she asked. "We're going to get out of this, I know we are. The fleet's coming. You heard the lander."

He smiled sadly. "It's funny, Sharl. That's what's bothering me."

"What? Why?" she mumbled, wincing.

MacArthur moved to his knees.

"Sharl," he said, holding her hand. "We belong to different worlds. The fleet's back. You can-you'll have have to return to your world. You're an officer. I'm a grunt." to return to your world. You're an officer. I'm a grunt."

"Bulls.h.i.t, Mac!" she responded, green eyes flaring. "This is our world! Yours and mine. It's a new world, and we'll write our own rules-our own philosophies."

MacArthur looked at the bloodshot eyes staring out from her scarred and blackened face. He stroked her tangled, singed hair. "We better worry about one problem at a time. That shoulder's going to make it hard for you, if we have to climb down the back side."

"Don't worry about me... Corporal."

MacArthur smiled, but the smile evaporated with the realization the mortar fire had not just paused-it had ceased. He jumped to his feet and peeked above the rocks. "Sandy! Terry! Anything happening on your side?" he shouted.

"All clear here!" Tatum shouted. "The bugs are still b.u.t.ts up in the rocks."

"Look!" Buccari shouted, clambering up to join him. "The drone!"

"Colonel!" the subordinate shouted. "The drone! Birds are attacking."

"Not birds," Longo snarled. He scanned the skies with binoculars. "Birds do not carry weapons. Command the drone back to us and lower its alt.i.tude. Order the soldiers to blast those creatures!"

Longo watched anxiously as the mountain flyer closed inexorably on the descending machine. He could not afford to lose his last drone.

"Make it go faster!" Longo shouted. "Faster!"

"It is already at maximum speed, Colonel," said the subordinate. Both officers watched the drone technician anxiously, praying for the soldier to perform a miracle.

Ironically, if only the bear people had made the drone climb, the hunter would have been frustrated. As long as they continued to lower the machine's alt.i.tude it was possible for Braan to continue pursuit. The hunter dove at the noisy craft, closing on his objective, planning his tactics. Gaining speed by pulling in his wings, the hunter accelerated and swooped below the helicopter, pa.s.sing it by. Braan curved his membranes and started an arcing movement, giving him an upward ballistic trajectory. Pulling in his wings, the creature carved a graceful, parabolic path, all the while spinning his body to face the approaching drone. With gravity killing his vertical momentum, Braan pulled the pistol from the holster and, holding it with both clawed hands at arms length, sighted down the barrel at the onrushing machine.

Braan, the-leader-of hunters, fired one shot at point blank range before the drone crashed into his body.

"It hit him!" MacArthur shouted, binoculars pressed to his eyes. The drone halted in midair, pieces of metal peeling away, theplane of its rotor blades tilting. Captain's limp form was dashed aside, tumbling from the skies. MacArthur focused on the falling creature, but he could still see the drone veering crazily. The drone wobbled, seeking to stabilize itself, but then it rolled in a jerking spiral over onto its back. MacArthur thought the spinning blades would strike the hunter, but Captain had fallen clear.

"Come on, Captain! Fly!" MacArthur exhorted. "Come on!"

One of the creature's wings slipped open, and Captain rolled in mid-air. The hunter's line of fall deflected, but it remained precipitous.

"You can do it!" MacArthur was yelling. "Fly, you little b.a.s.t.a.r.d! Fly!"

The hunter's wings stiffened. The plummet turned into a swoop, and Captain sailed unsteadily over the ground, wobbling through the ranks of the konish soldiers. The drone exploded beautifully in the background. The humans cheered. MacArthur screamed in joy.

But not for long. The scattering soldiers, recovering from the drone's crash, shifted their attention to the flying creature. Soldiers scurried to position, raising blasters and rifles. Captain struggled to the east, following the rolling terrain leading to the cliffs beyond. As he cleared the last konish soldier, the blasters opened fire. The hunter dipped and climbed, swerved and turned, covering more than half the open ground to the cliffs, but he was losing speed, the evasive maneuvers eroding his velocity. When he was almost to the cliff's edge, a blaster beam spun him around! Captain collapsed into a curled ball and fell with a sickening slide onto the rocky ground beyond the gra.s.sy swell of the ridge. He had almost made it.

High overhead, the orbiting hunters screamed fiercely.

"He's still moving!" MacArthur shouted, standing and staring through the field gla.s.ses. "Cover me!" Dropping binoculars and rifle, he sprinted down the rocky terrain. Captain had crashed short of the cliff's edge, but the cliff dweller had made it over the rise of the ridge; the konish soldiers could not see the fallen hunter. If MacArthur could reach the boulders at the foot of the high ground, he could make it out to the downed animal; the curve of the ridge would protect him. He bounded down the hill.

MacArthur heard a laser beam sing by his head and realized his beard was on fire. He dove behind rocks, slapping at his burning hair, feeling layers of skin slip from his cheek. The smell was nauseating. He heard loud noises and looked back. Chastain and Buccari were following him down the slope, jumping from rock to rock and providing furious covering fire. The lasers stopped, but konish infantry cannon erupted, and explosions rippled all around him.

MacArthur rolled across an opening in the rocks and hit the flat gra.s.sy crown of the ridge on his feet, running downhill, trying to put the rolling hump of the ridge between him and the aliens. Another laser beam sang past his neck, and then he was below their line of sight. A hundred meters distant, Captain staggered toward him, limping severely, wings dragging. The cliff's edge fell away to MacArthur' s right-a vertical drop. MacArthur closed the distance to the hunter in sprinter's time, ignoring the dizzy precipice.

Captain still held the pistol in his hands. MacArthur grabbed the weapon, stuck it in his belt, and picked the cliff dweller up in his arms like a child. The battered creature's eyes were tightly shut. He chirped softly, plaintively, and was silent. MacArthur turned to start his way back to the rocks and saw konish soldiers charging over the ridge, pouring laser and cannon fire into the rocks where Buccari and Chastain were hiding. MacArthur, hugging the hunter to his chest, fell to his knees behind a low wall of boulders and watched two of the kones fall to return fire. Their ammo's gotta' be about gone, thought MacArthur, panic setting in.

Soldiers detached from the main body and made for MacArthur' s position. Still hugging the dweller, MacArthur pulled the pistol, raised to his knees, and fired two shots at the lead kone. The alien's helmet shattered as the giant fell backwards, and his mates moved to take cover. MacArthur took aim at another soldier and pulled the trigger; one round exploded from the pistol barrel and then-click, click, click! The Marine looked around in desperation. He had no choice. He put his head down and jumped to his feet, not feeling the weight of his burden. Protective cover was only a stone's throw away. The Marine looked around in desperation. He had no choice. He put his head down and jumped to his feet, not feeling the weight of his burden. Protective cover was only a stone's throw away.

Four strides into his sprint, he was. .h.i.t! And hit again! An electric, numbing jolt ran up his spine. Agony! He pushed his legs to move, but they refused to obey. Explosions! Explosions lasted forever, and he drifted into merciful unconsciousness.

Buccari felt searing pain deep in her shoulder. Every time she fired the a.s.sault rifle, it pounded her torn muscles. She wiped perspiration from her eyes and fumbled with her ammo belt. There was only one clip left. Chastain, from his position below her, jumped around a boulder and fired his rifle. A salvo of answering laser beams rang through the air. Bullets splattered the rocks, exploding their surfaces into shards and chips of granite. Chastain slumped behind the boulders and looked up at her, his face red and blistered, his beard smoking. He was crying.

So was she. Buccari felt the grip of panic. Her own hair was singed short and blisters were rising on her cheeks. In the open, on the ridge beyond the rocks, MacArthur lay sprawled on his back- not moving. Captain lay next to him, wings draped over the human's still form.

"He's down, Jocko!" Buccari shouted. "We can't save him! We can't!"

Chastain said nothing, his shoulders shaking. Cannon sh.e.l.ls exploded in rolling waves around them, showering them with rock splinters. Laser beams cooked the air. Chastain leapt to the side and fired his a.s.sault rife, the quick burst emptying his magazine-the metal clip rang on the ground. He jerked behind cover and resolutely shoved in another ammo clip. Buccari knew it was his last. More cannon sh.e.l.ls thudded among the rocks, and shrapnel tap-danced over the mountain granite.

"I don't want to leave him either, Jocko!" she shouted in despair. "He wouldn't want us to die, Jocko. Not when we can get away."

Gunfire erupted from higher up. She broke her stare from the attackers and looked up to see Tatum making his way through the boulders along the back side of the ridge. She figured he was starting the escape. With one arm he needed a head start. If Tatum could make it, then she could, too. She turned back to the aliens and steeled herself to take another shot. She heard her name being called. Tatum was yelling at her! She turned back to him. He was cupping his one hand and bellowing, but the noise of the battle was too loud. A lull struck, and she could hear some of his words.

"Hang on... cliff dwellers..." he shouted.

Cliff dwellers? Tonto and X.O.? What could they do? She looked down at Chastain. His rifle pointed at the ground. He was staring into the sky. She followed his gaze. Cliff dwellers! Hunters! Hundreds of them-thousands! Like a thin layer of smoke from the west, still far away. A shrill whistling drifted on the wind. The konish soldiers stopped firing, all staring at the oncoming horde.

"Keep firing!" Buccari screamed. She stepped around the rock and took aim at a konish soldier. The a.s.sault rifle kicked her shoulder and the soldier collapsed. The others followed her lead, and the confused kones tried to direct their attention in both directions. Laser blasters, their power diminishing, raked the rocky mountain while cannon sh.e.l.ls exploded without interruption.

"Colonel Longo!" the subordinate shouted, nervously looking at the black cloud spreading across the sky. "Power cells are running down. Should we not consider withdrawing?"

Longo stared at the leading elements of the mountain flyers. The first arrows struck, and Longo realized the situation had swung badly out of control. A torrent of short, metal-barbed shafts rippled across the gra.s.sy ridge-a thin, swift downpour of pain. Longo looked at his thigh; a black-fletched arrow protruded from his haunch. Pain coursed through his leg.

"Blasters!" Longo screamed. "Shoot the flyers! Shoot them!" Shoot them!"

Kones swung their weapons to the new enemy. None of the soldiers had been killed, but most had received painful wounds; several had been incapacitated by multiple wounds. With the fear of death expanding in their souls, the konish soldiers swept their fading beams through the ma.s.sed flying creatures, raking dozens of them from the sky, praying their power cells would last. Another wave of arrows splattered across the konish lines. Four kones went to their knees, still trying to fire their weapons, knowing they were dying.

And another wave. Longo counted six arrows in his own body; the one in his neck prevented him from issuing orders. He, too, was dying. More hunters fell from the sky, small bodies burned and broken, many with arrows still nocked in their bows. More kones succ.u.mbed. More arrows, more arrows-more arrows.

The kones lay dead, mountainous carca.s.ses bristling with black shafts. Sprinkled around the bulky bodies of the kones were dozens of small wasted forms, the twisted and charred bodies of dead hunters. A horde of living hunters-sorrowful victors- descended from the skies and formed orderly groups.

Buccari ran down the hill toward MacArthur's limp form. Chastain beat her there, along with X.O. and Tonto. Chastain threw his jacket over MacArthur's torso. The hulking Marine looked up and moved to stop her.

"No, Lieutenant. It's real bad," Chastain sobbed, tears rolling down his blistered and blackened face. "Mac's not going to make it."

"He's alive?" Buccari asked.

Chastain nodded, holding her tightly by the shoulders.

She shook loose and staggered the short distance to where MacArthur sprawled, his legs angled grotesquely. The body of the dead hunter embraced the Marine, both forms covered by Chastain's jacket. Captain's black eyes stared vacantly into the blue sky. As Buccari stumbled up to the fallen warriors, X.O. moved to close the fallen hunter's eyes, all the while whistling a shrill, mournful wail. Tonto stood near, visibly trembling, but also whistling mournfully.

MacArthur' s chest heaved in shallow, pained breaths. She knelt down, putting his face in shadow. He blinked, his eyes focused, and he turned his head to her. His hand lifted from the ground.

"Hold..." he gasped. "Sharl...hold my hand." Tears rolled across his tortured face. Buccari took the strong, callused hand in hers and held it to her cheek.

"Let me...touch you..." he whispered. She relaxed her grip and felt his fingers glide over her face, lingering on the line of her scar. "Mac," she sobbed. "Mac, I..."

"In truth, you're beautiful, Shar-" His hand tightened around her wrist, and the light in his gray eyes faded out.

Chapter 44.

Citizens Ca.s.sy Quinn stood on the new planet, more resolved than bereaved. She had work to do-hard work-on a new planet, a planet with limitless potential, something she had dreamed of, something she had trained for. But she had forgotten about gravity. Her heart struggled to force blood to her extremities; her legs felt leaden, her head ached, and she was cold. Patience, she told herself, it had only been two weeks since they had landed.

"You okay, Commander?" G.o.donov asked. They had finished checking the lake station survey instruments. "You're pale." "I'm okay, Nes," she replied. "Just tired."

"You should take some time off and relax," he said. "You've been working too hard. Enjoy the scenery." He waved his hand at the hanging glaciers and snowcapped mountains. Bronze-tufted ducks, alarmed at their presence, ran along the water's surface and glided across the smooth surface of the lake. A large fish rolled its belly at them.

"I'm too excited to relax," Quinn answered.

The Legion scientists walked along the lakesh.o.r.e and rounded the forested point of the protected cove, receiving welcome shelter from the cool lake breeze. The settlement clearing spread before them. Kateos and Doworn.o.bb, helmets off, reclined on sun-washed gra.s.s above the sandy beach. Doworn.o.bb waved.

"Good-ah news!" Doworn.o.bb shouted. "Master Huhsawn has regained-ah consciousness. We just-ah receive radio transmission from your fleet-ah. The doctors say that-ah he will-ah live."

An oppressive weight lifted from Quinn's shoulders. Nashua Hudson's survival had defied logic and reason. His flesh cooked and his bones crushed, the ensign had been evacuated on the first EPL off the planet and immediately taken at full military thrust tothe medical facility aboard Tierra del Fuego. Tierra del Fuego. The accelerations and stresses of planetary escape worked against success; Hudson died enroute and was revived-twice. Fleet doctors and equipment could perform near miracles on a living being, but could do little for a dead one. Hudson's infirm body and nearly orphaned soul made it back to the fleet and were welded together. Healing would take much longer. The accelerations and stresses of planetary escape worked against success; Hudson died enroute and was revived-twice. Fleet doctors and equipment could perform near miracles on a living being, but could do little for a dead one. Hudson's infirm body and nearly orphaned soul made it back to the fleet and were welded together. Healing would take much longer.

"Wonderful," Quinn said, a catch in her throat. "That means so much."

"To us, too, Commander," Kateos said, standing. "Hud-sawn is our good friend. We go with you." Doworn.o.bb stashed the remains of their picnic in his suit pouches. They walked in silence past the circle of ash and charcoal that marked the perimeter of the settlement ruins. The palisade gate frame still stood, as did the blackened stone foundations of most the buildings. Guilders working on the new construction moved nervously from the paths of the kones. At least they no longer ran and hid.

"Ah, there are Dawson and Gol'berg with their babies," Kateos announced, brown eyes widening. "Come, my mate, and let us say h.e.l.lo. I want to hold a baby."

"Again!" Doworn.o.bb smiled at his mate's tender enthusiasm.

"Excuse me, Commander," G.o.donov said, as the kones trotted away. "I should get started across the river if I'm going to catch the next apple. Fenstermacher has a ferry leaving in a half hour."

"All right, Nes," she answered. "I'll be back on Eire Eire in three days." in three days."

She found herself standing alone. Reconstruction banged and clattered about her; rock walls were being cleaned and rea.s.sembled. The lodge roof had already been framed with new timbers. Winter was near; the survivors of Harrier One Harrier One worked feverishly to restore the settlement. worked feverishly to restore the settlement.

Quinn self-consciously forced herself not to stare at the bare-chested men working the timber and rock. She was no prude, but she still was uncomfortable with their hairy, burnished bodies. Laser Corporal Tatum smiled at her as he hurried by with a tree trunk held firmly by one Herculean arm over his sinewy shoulder. The man's head was covered with reddish-blond hair pulled into a ponytail that approached his waist; his wide mustaches flowed into a thick beard, and his chest and back were pelted with a wiry, rust-colored gauze. His face was florid, the skin peeling and peppered with freckles. Quinn had to remind herself that the kones and the cliff dwellers were the aliens.

In the midst of the ruins, next to a large campfire, stood three konish tents. Et Silmarn, without his helmet, stood close to the fire, watching the activity. She walked up to the n.o.blekone, anxious to share the fire's warmth.

"Governor," Quinn said in halting konish. "I use your fire."

"Good-ah day, Commander Quinn," Et Silmarn replied in Legion. "You speak-ah my language better with-ah each day. We soon not-ah need Mistress Kateos's translator. Please join me. It is cold-ah. How do they work-ah with bare skin?"

"Work keeps them warm," Quinn said, although she wondered the same thing.

"It-ah goes well," Et Silmarn said. "Perhaps Sharl is correctah to rebuild-ah. I should not-ah have demand-is "demand" right word?" Quinn nodded. "Should not-ah have demand-ah Sharl move all humans to Ocean Station for winter."