The blazing midmorning sun swept the storm clouds from the sky and drenched the world with its orange rays. The film of water covering the ground and the buildings drifted skyward in a ghostly white steam. The skeletal girders of the crumbling skyscrapers of old Demeter stood silently, refusing to tell the tales of their past glories. The structural supports reached heavenward for salvation like agonized hands. Wreaths of vines climbed the naked, rotting steel as spears of grass thrust through the cracks in the pavement in the jungle's war to reclaim its stolen land. A few shabby souls shuffled through the decaying streets while the rest sought refuge from the brutal sun in whatever ramshackle shelter they could find.

A short, stocky man who called himself Shrike leaned in his chair against a faded, cracked wall, fanning himself slowly with a wide-brimmed hat. His eyes were closed and his bronze face was inclined toward the sun. A thin line of silvery hair wreathed his otherwise bald head, and a pattern of dark stubble trying to assert itself into a beard. The sun shone like gold from the sweat on his skin. He was wearing a battered, sleeveless jumpsuit and had a rifle and a sack sitting propped against the wall next to him.

He was sitting across the street from a decayed skyscraper. The walls of the ground floor had been haphazardly patched and had the words "Zurch's Pub" had been painted crudely across the entrance. Scratchy, antiquated music mixed with the sounds of many different conversations to create a nearly monotonous humming noise.

A strong gust of the wind howled through the dying buildings with a sound like a thousand screaming souls, making the superstructures creak ominously. Shrike’s eyelids flicked open and he looked upward with his golden eyes. The wind had blown billowing, sparkling cloud of dust and glass fragments from the buidlings above him.

"Shit," he muttered.

Shrike casually nestled his hat on his head, keeping the brim low over his eyes. A few seconds later he was bombarded by thousands of bits of debris. After the short shower had passed, he took his hat off and leaned back against the wall. Before he could resume dozing, he spotted a large luxury sedan moving slowly toward him, attempting to avoid the worst parts of the cracked, buckled road. The man put his hat back on. His eyes followed the car from the safety of the shadow beneath the brim.

The car was long and sleek, coated with a silvery, sparkling paint. The windows were an opaque silver as well. The car decelerated in front of the bar, and the gentle humming sound of its engine died away. A tall, bulky man in a leathery suit dripping with Earther style got out of the car and scanned the street quickly from behind bloack sunglasses. Another stepped out a few seconds later and did the same. The two looked nearly identical.

The bodyguards moved slightly away from the car, allowing a much thinner man to exit the car. The third man had closely cropped black hair with splinters of gray. His suit was more elegant than that of his bodyguards', and off-white in color. His beady black eyes passed over the man sitting against the wall without a hint of concern..

Then he turned to his bodyguards. "Let's get this over with quick. I can't stand this damn heat."

"Yes, sir, mister Baker," one of them answered. The other reached back into the car and pulled a large, sturdy bag from the backseat. Baker turned toward the bar and began to walk toward the black doorway. His guards followed him.

Shrike raised his hand to his mouth. "He’s going in, get ready," he said quietly into the pin-sized microphone stuck to his palm. "Two guards with him, possibly one or two more in the limo."

"Roger," a voice crackled in his earpiece.

The Baker stepped into the bar, the conversations around the dimly-lit room continued, unconcerned by his appearance. His first reaction was to clamp a handkerchief over his mouth an nose to protect him from the burning stench of sweat and alcohol. His bodyguards stood a few feet behind him, their hands hovering near their bulging jacket pockets.

Baker blinked, trying to hasten his eyes’ adjustment to the shadow. He scanned the dank bar with its battered tables and worn customers. He saw a scruffy, bearded man sitting in a corner near the rear entrance of the building smoking a tightly wrapped blue cigarette. The two made eye contact and the man nodded slightly. Baker walked toward his table, his bodyguards following close behind.

Baker hesitated when he reached the table, looking down at the dirty chair with distaste.

"I haven’t got all day, Baker," the man said, his voice coming out in puffs of smoke.

Baker sat down, grimacing at the thought of the defiling of his suit. "I hate meeting in places like this, Ashe" he muttered. Baker’s bodyguards stood with their backs to the wall, scanning the room with the cybernetically-enhanced eyes hidden behind their sunglasses. With improved peripheral vision and heightened light sensitivity, they would be able to react to any aggressive move against their charge.

Stang was sitting in the table next to Baker and Ashe, her back to them. She felt the butterflines rising in her stomach as Shrike muttered, "Get ready" into her earpiece. She was pretneding to be engrossed in a Verdencian Times article about the local basket weaving competition while nursing a Stygian gin. She slowly and carefully pulled a golf-ball sized object from her pocket. One of the bodyguards was barely a foot away from her, his hand hovering very near his sidearm. She was in the most dangerous position, but she had drawn the shortest straw...

Ashe leaned back in his chair. It creaked loudly, but supported his weight. "Nobody gives a shit here, " he said confidently. "The cops stay in the new part of the city and any Vipers that have business here have bigger fish to fry than you and me. Besides, I got my own security guys. Lighten the fuck up. Now, what have you got for me?"

Baker dropped the bag on the table and pushed it over to Ashe. Ashe opened it up and pulled out a wad of bills.

"Quit looking," Mara said softly, gently pushing Cor’s bristly chin toward her.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, looking into her green eyes. "It’s just that it’s hard to concentrate with all that’s been dropped on us the last couple of days."

"Well you’d better concentrate," she said, squeezing his hand. "We don’t want to get killed now."

Cor looked past her at a figure in a hooded cloak at the bar. "Christ, Sarmauch sure is putting the booze away," he said as the figure threw down another shot. "He’d better not get wasted."

Ashe dropped the money back in the bag will a disgusted sneer. This shit loses value by the minute," he said. "You wanna deal with me, you gotta get serious." He pushed the bag back across the table at

Baker peered into the darkness around him. "I'm looking for a mercenary," he said in a steady, authoritative voice. "Someone called Shrike."

"Who wants to know?" a voice said from the crowd.

"I am Vincent Baker, acting provisional administrator of Verdencia, and I have a job for him."

A man lounging in a nearby table nursing a slightly phosphorescent drink looked up at Baker with bright blue eyes. An attractive, somewhat sallow woman was sitting next to him, gently stoking his clean-shaven cheek. "Didn't know the government hired mercs," he said as he jerked his head away from his companion's touch.

"I'm prepared to pay handsomely," Baker said, "and I may even throw in a little something for anyone who can tell me where he is."

The blue-eyed man looked at the woman and laughed. A slight, confused smile crossed her painted lips. He looked back at Baker with a toss of his bright blond hair. "I know where he is, mister administrator, sir."

"Where?" Baker asked suspiciously.

"'Bout three feet behind you."

Baker half-turned. Leaning against the doorway was the short man who had watched them enter. He took off his hat and walked up to Baker. His head barely came to Baker’s chest. "I'm Shrike," he extended his broad hand.

Baker hesitated, then smiled. "Of course," he said, shaking Shrike's hand. "Sorry, I just expected someone more...physically intimidating."

Shrike brushed by him and walked toward the table where the blue-eyed man was sitting. He threw a glance of distaste at the woman who was fawning the blue-eyed man. "What do you expect coming from a high-G place like Fenris?" He took a seat facing Baker and motioned to the last empty chair at the table. "Let's talk business."

Baker looked at the three at the table at the table and at the other vagrants filling the bar. They were all watching him. "Can't we discuss this an an place a little more private?"

"I get it," Shrike said, leaning back in his chair. "You're feeling uncomfortable because you don't know everybody." He began pointing to random dirty faces. "That's Mart and Jane and Jake...don't know that guy." He motioned to the blue-eyed man with his head. "That's Gabriel, an associate of mine. Don't know the slut. There are a couple of others but they aren't here."

"Mister...Shrike..." Baker began.

"Look," Shrike said sternly. "We got tickets on a liner to be off this shitball planet in three hours. That doesn't give you very much time to change our minds. So sit down and start talking or leave. Is that clear enough for your bureaucratic brain to absorb?"

Again Baker hesitated. "Fine," he said simply. He pulled out the chair and brushed off the seat before sitting down. "This is the deal. We want you to bring someone into custody for us. We want this person under suspicion of aiding insugents. We know where he is, but right now we can't spare the manpower to go find him."

Shrike rubbed his bristly chin.

"Gabriel," the woman said softly. "I'm gonna need some soon."

"Shut up," Gabriel answered. He leaned forward over the table. "How much you gonna pay?"

Baker nodded to the bodyguard with the bag. He stepped forward and dumped a dozen bundles of paper money on the table. Gabriel's eyes lit up, and there were murmers from the onlookers in the bar. The woman with Gabriel stared at the pile of money while rubbing her hand across his chest. Shrike remained impassive. He casually picked up a stack of bills, flipped through it, then tossed it in Baker's lap.

"Don't insult me," he said evenly. "This shit's worthless. We want hard currency or nothing at all."

Gabriel drew a breath to speak, but a sharp glance from Shrike stopped him.

Baker looked into Shrike's yellow eyes for a moment. With a flip of his finger, the bodyguard holding the bag gathered up the money and put it away. Baker stared at Shrike for another few seconds. Gabriel shifted in his seat uncomfortably but Shrike's countenance remained unchanged.

Baker sighed and held out his hand to the other bodyguard. He large man produced a small felt pouch and placed it in Baker's hand. Baker loosened the draw strings and turned it upsidedown. Several small shimmering stones spilled out on the table. The woman gasped and reached for them instinctively. Gabriel slapped her hand away and looked expectantly at Shrike.

Shrike reached for one of the stones slowly and deliberately. He held it up to the light of the door and examined the refraction of the light.

"You get the other half when you bring in our man."

Shrike's eyes shifted from the stone to Baker. The faintest sign of a reaction rippled over his face. Gabriel stared, open-mouthed, while pushing away his amorous companion.

"This guy must be pretty dangerous for you to want to shell out so much money," Shrike said flatly as he dropped the stone on the table.

Baker shrugged. "It's a political thing. He's a dissident who used to write for The Ranger until he fled into the jungle. To get him back in custody would be a hell of a PR stunt. We need him alive."

"Why us?"

Baker leaned forward slightly, clasping his hands together in front of him. "Frankly, we were impressed by your handling of your last job. Your capture of the Taewoo organ ring leader was very well executed."

"It was, was it?" Shrike said impassively.

"Yes, it was." Baker answered without changing tone. "You cornered a dozen armed criminals and managed to apprehend them with no bloodshed and minimal property damage."

"That’s how the P and G gutworks wanted it."

"I know, and that’s why we want you. Most mercs blow things up and expect the rest of us to pick up the pieces. You have professionalism and restraint. This is a delecate situation and that’s what we need. You also have persistence. I understand you tracked Taewoo for quite a time before coming here."

"It’s all we’ve been doing for the last three godamned months," Gabriel said plaintively.

"Fine. I trust that you plan on giving us a name for this person you want us to capture?"

Baker's hand went into his his coat pocket. Both Shrike and Gabriel tensed instinctively. The relaxed when Baker produced a small, silvery disk.

"Everything you need to know is on this disk." He paused. "You do, I trust, have a portacomp."

Shrike snapped the disk from Baker's hand and pocketed it. "Of course we do." With a sweep of his hand he gathered the gemstones and put them back into the pouch. "We'll get your man to you."

"Thank you for your services," Baker said as he stood up. He walked up to the door, then turned around. "There's a lot about Verdencia that you don't know, Mister Shrike. Don't get messed up anything that does not concern you." With that, he turned and walked back out in the sun, followed by his bodyguards.

"Wow," Gabriel said. "That's a hell of a lot of money for just one guy. They must really want him bad.It almost makes it worthwhile for another boring-as-hell assignment."

Shrike was looking down at the pouch, fingering the stones through the fabric. "Bet there's more to this job than meets the eye."

"Gabriel," the woman said plaintively. "I need some..."

"Alright already! Jesus!" Gabriel said in an irritated tone. He pulled an inch-long tube filled with a blue translucent fluid from his pocket and gave it to the woman, who grasped it eagerly with both hands. "Now get the fuck out of here." She left immediately, staring at the tube with an excited smile on her face.

Shrike had watched the entire exchange in silence, but with a look of obvious disapproval.

"What?" Gabriel said defensively. "She got what she wanted and I got what I wanted! What's the big fuckin' deal?"

"You're going to rot your cock off if you keep chasing tail like that."

"They're not so bad...not by the time you've picked the scabs off and the pus is running free, anyway."

"You're quite the little perv, Gabe," Shrike said condescendingly in spite of the smile on his face.

"So I take it we're not leaving this little paradise just yet?" Gabriel asked as he lifted his drink to his lips.

"Nope," Shrike said as he stood. "Come on, let's get out of here and find everybody else."

"I'm sure Sarmauch'll enjoy the extension," Gabriel said as he gulped the last of his drink. He grimaced and jerked his head as the liquid burned its way to his stomach.

"Well, that's his problem," Shrike said as he headed for the door. "I'm sure that these little rocks will more than convince him to put up with the climate."

"War, heat, jungles," Gabriel said as he followed Shrike out the door. "Who could ask for anything more? Jesus," he said as he stepped from the soft twilight of the bar to the sharp daylight. He quickly put on a pair on angular, silver sunglasses. The shadow of his hat was sufficient for Shrike.

A few yards from the entrance from the pub was a squat vehicle. It's yellow paint was mottled with spots of rust. Its overall appearance was not far from a perverse cross between a leopard and a frog.

"Who's driving?" Gabriel asked.

"I am," Shrike said as he pulled back the convertible top. "You're too loaded to drive."

"I'm not loaded," Gabriel said as he climbed awkwardly over the door into the passenger's seat. "I'm just getting warmed up for the party after we catch this newspaper guy."

Shrike put his finger on the ignition button. The microscanners checked his fingerprints and the car immediately sputtered to life. With an ominous grinding noise the car lurched forward and began to crawl down the road.

"Why can't we ever rent a good car?" Gabriel complained.

"It's a waste of money," Shrike answered as if explaining to a child. "We're only here for a week or so, so we don't need a Mercedes-Lexus. This is fine."

"Frogmobile, ho," Gabriel said bitterly.

As they drove slowly down the potholed streets, the quality and opulence of their surroundings gradually improved. The rancid structures of a forgotten age gave way to warehouses, refineries, and small factories. Then those melted into the glimmering, bustling Demeter commercial district. Shoppers worked their ways up and down the broad sidewalks thoughtfully shielded from the sun by proprietors.

"Hey, what's that?" Gabriel asked.

He was pointing to the large statue of a woman standing on a pedestal in the center of an elaborate fountain. It was made of a black stone which shimmered in the sunlight. The figure was standing proudly erect, clad in foreboding body armor. Its face, horribly scared on the left side, was held high, with a look of grim determination on its face. The statue and fountain was part of a well-kept park that dominated the square.

Shrike squinted. "I think that's the local hero around here. I think that she--"

"Hey!" Gabriel said suddenly. "There's Sarmauch!"

Shrike moved the car through the moderate traffic and pulled into a parking lot within a hundred feet of the statue and the cloaked man reading the plaque embedded on the pedestal.

"Hey Sarmauch!" Gabriel shouted as he jumped out of the car and hurried toward the statue. Shrike was more nonchalant.

Sarmauch waved back with a gloved hand. He was wearing a brown hooded cloak that kept every inch of his paper-white skin in shadow. Thick sunglasses protected his pale eyes from the harsh sun. He spoke with a thick accent. "I dint think ya'd be back so early."

"Me either," Gabriel said, slightly out of breath.

Sarmauch turned back to the plaque. "Did ya know that Hill was infaulfed in this place's leeberation?"

"Bryan Hill?" Gabriel said with slight interest, his gaze sliding from the plaque to the figure of a passing woman. "Our do-nothing prez?"

"He wasn't always a moraun," Sarmauch said. "He was waun auf the guys who lead helped clean out the McAfee Caunspiracy after his adventures here."

"The years have not been kind."

"Yea," Sarmauch answered. He looked up at the statue. "This wauman is credited with capping aufer a hundred bad guys."

"Yeah?" Gabriel said, barely continaining his impatience. "She’s got a nice butt. So who is she?"

"They daun't know her last name, but they called he--"

"Hey Sarmauch," Shrike interrupted, "where's everybody else?"

Sarmauch shrugged, looking down and his short companion. "Stang and Mara are ouff shaupping saumwhere, ya know how waumen are, and Cor is sitting over there on a bench."

"Come one," Shrike said. "I got some news for you guys and I don't feel like repeating it a million times." The trio began toward lounging figure sitting in a park bench drenched in the shadow of a large, leaning tree.

"Is it just me," Gabriel said as they walked, "or has our little friend Cor gotten really scary since we got here?"

"It might just be the heat," Sarmauch volunteered.

"Well he should lighten the fuck up," Gabriel said, lowering his tone as they approached.

Cor was sitting with his elbows on his knees, staring down at the grass. His dark hair dangled over his face. He did not acknowledge his friends’ advance.

"Hey, Cor," Shrike said, slapping his shoulder lightly, "Wake up, man."

Cor leaned back in the bench and looked up at Shrike with a neutral expression. "What's up, boss?"

"I got something to discuss with you guys," he said.

Sarmauch pulled the hood off his head. His white hair cascaded over his shoulders and his transluscent skin was beaded with sweat. "Smitmen, it's so damn haut aun this planet. I can't wait ta get out auf here." The dull roar of a distant explosion rumbled though the square, causing a wave of apprehension to roll over everyone in the area. "I really can't wait ta get aut auf here."

"This'll be fun," Gabriel said as he sat next to Cor.

Shrike paused for a moment, rubbing his eyes as he collected his thoughts. "Well, guys, to put it simply, we're not leaving yet."

"What dya mean 'We're naut leaving?'" Sarmauch shouted in his thick accent, made worse by his anger. "This planet is the last place I want ta be!"

"Cool it," Shrike said calmly. He managed to maintain authority although he was a full seven inches shorter than Sarmauch. "It was a good deal, it'll take a couple days at the most."

"Scra the deal! A planet like Verdencia is naut what I wald caunsider an enjoyable vacation spaut!"

Without a word, Shrike handed Sarmauch the pouch.

Sarmauch opened it with annoyance. His demeanor changed when he looked inside. "Are these real?" he asked as he put his hand inside the pouch to feel the gems.

"Yep. And that's only half of our bounty. Get the other half when we bring the guy in."

Sarmauch's thin white eyebrows rose over the rim of his glasses. "I guess that I daunt really need ta leave right now..."

"I hoped that you'd see it my way," Shrike said as he took out the disk. "This has got the info we need. Pop into the portacomp and see what it's got when we get back to the hotel."

"Ya gaut it," Sarmauch said with a nod.

"What about you, Cor?" Shrike said.

During the conversation, Cor had been staring at a balding heavy man and a young pregnant woman arguing several yards away. Their voices were barely audible because of the distance and the din of the square. Then the man punched the woman in the face, knocking her down. He stood over her, screaming at her. His flabby face had become as red as a beet.

Cor stood bolt upright. "Fine and dandy," he said to Shrike. He then strode quickly toward the red-faced man, his dark eyes burning.

"Oh, shit," Gabriel said quietly.

The man did not notice Cor until it was too late. Cor punched him in his chest, abruptly cutting off his screaming. Cor followed up with a punch to the nose and a vicious kick to the side of the knee. The man collapsed, holding his knee, trying to scream.

"See?" Gabriel said self-righteously. "I told you he was being scary."

Cor knelt by the man. "You should be nicer," he hissed in his ear. "You never know who may be watching." With that, he stood up and returned to he group, leaving the woman staring at him, bewildered.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Shrike said with a hint of reproach in his voice.

"Doing the right thing," Cor answered simply. "Let's find Stang and Mara."

"Where are they?"

"They said they'd be at the Buell's Outlet," Cor said, walking toward the opposite side of the park. "Let's go." He never looked back at the man and woman.

"Yea," Sarmauch said quietly to Gabriel, "Cor's gaun zaunko."

As the four of them walked down the sidewalk bisecting the refuge of green in the sea of gray, Gabriel suddenly darted away from them. He ran into the path of a shining frisbee being thrown by two girls. He jumped up, caught it, and whipped it back to the thrower. He then pranced toward back toward the group waving his hands in the air.

"Am I awesome or what?" he said loudly.

"You're barely average," Shrike said with a smirk.

"They're a little yaung for ya, aren't they?" Sarmauch said.

"Yeah," Gabriel said, looking back at the girls who had resumed their game, "but they will get older, and maybe they'll remember me as the cool guy in the park if they ever see me again."

"In an ald-faulks haum, maybe," Sarmauch said.

They arrived at the edge of the park. In front of them was a large, ornate building that boasted the busiest piece of sidewalk on the block as people streamed in and out of its doors. The word "Buell's" written in large, fanciful script dominated the facade.

The activity on the sidewalks came to an abrupt standstill when a loud blaring began echoing through the square.

"Smitmen," Sarmauch said quietly.

"Keep your eyes open," Shrike said cautiously as the four drew closer together, scanning the streets.

The blaring rose to a deafening pitch as a massive black APC rolled down the road. One car that was too slow to get out of the way of the metal bohemoth was unceremoniously rammed from the road. The shoppers who had been casually browsing the storefronts were now huddling near the walls of the buildings.

"There's military diplaumacy for ya!" Sarmauch shouted as the APC roared past them.

Three more APC rumbled past followed by a tank.

"Holy shit!" Gabriel shouted. "What the fuck's goin' on?"

The small convoy of war rumbled down the road and the blaring of their klaxons and the thunder of their powerful engines subsided. Life slowly returned to the square as citizens began to realize that the storm was over and continued their business. Cars sheepishly reclaimed the road. Activity resumed in the square, but more quietly than before.

"Let's go," Shrike said, hurrying across the street before traffic resumed in earnest.

The four of them trotted across the street, earning an irritated honk from a commuter anxious to get out of the area. Gabriel returned the his auditory reproach with a middle finger.

"Use the fuckin' crosswalk, asshole!" the motorist shouted from his cherry-colored vehicle.

Gabriel stopped and stood in front of the car. "Why don't you come out and make me, dipshit?"

This earned him another long bellow from the car's horn. Gabriel slapped his hands on the car's hood. "Come on!" he shouted.

Cor grabbed Gabriel by his arm and pulled him off the road. "Don't be an idiot, Gabe," he said evenly.

"How come you're allowed to beat people up and I'm not?" Gabriel said angrily.

"We don't need any more trouble than we already have," Cor said, releasing him.

"Knock it off," Shrike said. "We don't need any of this shit. Let's just find Stang and Mara and get back to the hotel, okay? Jesus."

"That waun't be ta hard," Sarmauch said. "There they are."

Two women were caught in the outward flow of customers from Buell's. Sarmauch waved emphatically. Recognition passed over their faces and they pushed their way through the bustling crowd holding large white plastic bags.

"Thank God," Gabriel said quietly. "I was dreading having to go in there and find them."

"Did you have fun?" Shrike asked.

Stang had golden skin and poker-straight black hair. She was dressed in a khaki jumpsuit that was sparsely adorned with military insignia. Mara's clothing consisted of a purple shirt and old gray pants. A silver triple-barred cross dangled from a chain around ehr neck.

"Yeah, it was pretty fad," Stang said. "At least we got out of the heat for awhile. Check this out," she said, pulling a shimmering black piece of clothing from the bag. "It's made of Drayon."

"Oooooo, ahhhhh," Sarmauch said sarcastically.

Stang punched him in the shoulder. "Moron."

"We need to meet back at the hotel ASAP," Shrike said authoritatively.

"Why?" Mara asked.

"We got a new assignment."

"I thought we were leaving," Mara said.

"We were, but we got an offer we couldn't refuse."

"Fad," Stang said. "More fun in the sun. We're gonna go get something to eat first, okay?"

"Well then meet us at the hotel in an hour, okay?" Shrike said, conceding.

"Oh super, I get to hang out with psycho for an hour," Gabriel said. "Speaking of psycho, where is Cor?"

"He's lauking at the car the APC's knaucked auf the road," Sarmauch said.

Cor was part of a crowd watching the driver of the vehicle, a young man, fade in and out of conciousness as blood saturated the rag being held to his head by a helpful bystander. The man’s lips had turned blue and his skin was pale as his body became flacid. Cor looked down the direction the APC's were heading with narrowed eyes.

The echoes of explosions began to ripple through the city.

The suite that Shrike had rented was fairly large but somewhat sparse. There were two separate bedrooms, a couple of extra cots in the main room, a culinary synthesizer, and a cluttered. Sarmauch was sitting on a bed with the portacomp. The small black box was sitting next to him. Wires ran from the box to the visor and the electronic gloves he was wearing. He held his hands a few inches above his lap. His fingers twitched slightly as he typed in his own virtual world.

Shrike was sitting in the main room watching the vidscreen from a large vinyl chair. Cor was lying on a cot in the same room with his arm over his face, allowing himself one eye with which to watch the vidscreen. Gabriel came out of the bathroom, adjusting his pants.

"Nothing like a good shit to clear out your head," he said.

"That explains a lot," Shrike said with a grin.

Gabriel glanced down at Cor then stepped over him and sat in a seat near Shrike. "Is anything good on?"

"Of course not," Shrike said. "They only have twenty-two channels here."

"Verdencia: A shitty place to visit, and I'd kill myself if I lived here."

"Hey, do you remember that little parade earlier today?"

"The one with all the military stuff? What about it?"

"Lots of fighting on the west side of the city," Shrike said. "The rebels attacked an armory."

"Who won, as if it makes any difference to my life?"

"I don't know. The local news is calling it a 'glorious victory' for government forces."

"That probably means they got killed."

"Probably."

"Honey, we're home," Stang called as she pushed the door open. Mara was following close behind.

"Nice of you to show up," Gabriel said, checking his watch.

"Bitch, bitch, bitch," Stang said as she tossed the bags into her bedroom.

Mara knelt down next to Cor and rubbed her fingers through his hair. He pulled his arm off his face a smiled slightly. Gabriel looked at them and smirked.

Sarmauch appeared at the door of his bedroom. "I thaught I smelled something," he said with a grin. The light from the vidscreen made his pale skin a sickly blue.

"What'd you find, Sarmauch?" Shrike asked.

"Here's the deal," he began. "The guy we want is about twenty clicks away fraum here in an extremely undefelauped part of the jungle. The closest we can get by rad is twelfe clicks, but that wald mean leafing our rental cars aun the side auf the rad in naut-sau-friendly territory."

"How much activity is there where we're going?" Shrike asked.

"There shaldn't be much," Sarmauch continued. "I mean, its pretty bleak out there. The clasest settlement is seven clicks away and that's saume kind auf religious caummune without rads or anything. Sau we shald hafe minimal trauble fraum the rebels."

"We still have to be cautious, though," Shrike said.

"But there's more." Sarmauch said.

"Wow, all this and more?" Gabriel said unenthusiastically.

"The guy we're suppaused ta get is Taum Flynn."

He was met with blank stares.

"Tom Flynn," Sarmauch said, straining to suppress his accent.

"Okay, is this supposed to mean something to us?" Gabriel said.

Sarmauch sighed heavily. "Waun auf the people respaunsible for leeberating Verdencia was a man named Scautt Flynn, okay? He's really famous around here. I crauss-referenced saume files and faund out that our Taum is Scaut's saun and that he has been writing nasty things about our client, the Ferdencian gaufernment."

"So this has a moral spin on it now, does it?" Stang asked.

"We're just doing a job," Shrike said. "We're not paid to figure out right and wrong. Besides," he said, tossing Stang the pouch, "this can pretty much buy off my conscience."

Stang looked at the glittering jewels. "Yeah, I know what you mean. When do we head out?"

"Well," Shrike said thoughtfully, "I'd like to get out there tonight so we can grab our guy, bring him back, and get out as quickly as we can. Things are getting a little too hot around here."

"I'm...not going," Mara said slowly.

There was a stunned silence for a few seconds.

"Uh, Mara, dear," Stang said, handing her the pouch. "Perhaps you didn't see what we're being offered."

"And that's only half of it," Shrike added.

"I'm not going," Mara said, pushing the pouch away. "I'm sorry but that's final."

"Why?" Gabriel asked.

"I've got my own reasons. You guys do your thing, but I taking the first shuttle out of here tomorrow morning." She turned and headed for her bedroom.

"I think you owe us an explanation," Shrike said.

Mara half turned. "No, I don't." She closed the bedroom door behind her.

The room was silent for a few moments. Cor had placed his arm back over his face.

"Gee, Cor," Gabriel said. "I thought you and Mara had something going. What’d you do? Piss her off or something?"

Cor moved his arm slightly and glared at Gabriel. Gabriel involuntarily took a step back.

"Well, Sarmauch," Shrike said with resignation, "print us up some contour maps of the area. Everybody get your gear charged and oiled and get some sleep. I want to head out of here no later than twenty-three hundred. That should get us there before dawn."

"I want a bed this time," Gabriel said plaintively. "Those cots suck."

Cor stood at the open window, looking down at the liquid lights of the city from twenty stories above the ground. The illumination cast a yellow pall over his face and the humididty gave the air a golden hue. The twin Verdencian moons hovered in different parts of the sky, each in its own phase. A fire raged on the other side of the city as sirens and gunshots echoed through the skyscrapers. The warm night wind blew through the open window, forcing out the stagnant air that had become saturated with the smell of sweat. A buzzing worked its way through the closed door to Shrike’s room. It was time to go.

Cor turned and walked across the room. He put his foot in the middle of Gabriel's back and bobbed him up and down on his cot. "Time to wake up, Prince Charming," he said flatly.

Gabriel moaned and wrapped the pillow around his head. Cor picked his way across the nearly pitch black room and turned on the light.

"Ow, man," Gabriel said as the light assaulted his eyes.

"Let's get going," Cor said, squinting.

Shrike came out of his bedroom, trying to dislodge the sleep from his golden eyes with hard blinks. "Okay, everybody double check your stuff and let's get out of here."

Sarmauch pushed past him. "Naut 'till I get saumething ta eat." He examined the food synthesizer and began pushing buttons.

Shrike was about to knock on Stang's door when she appeared, looking haggard. "It's time to go already?" she said with a yawn.

"I hate these night jobs," Gabriel said as he pulled on his boots.

"Daus anybaudy want saume purple-flavored sludge?" Sarmauch said, holding a steaming bowl of lavender semi-solid food.

"You asked for it, you eat it," Gabriel replied.

Shrike looked through his backpack, double checking his inventory.

"So how are we getting there?" Cor asked.

"We're walking most of the way," Shrike answered, not looking up. "Sarmauch says there's a charge station on the way, so we can probably leave the car there. It'll be about an eighteen click hike form there."

Mara appeared at the doorway of the women's bedroom and watched them prepare. Her necklace was nestled between her breasts.

"Are you still sure you want to miss out on all this jungle fun?" Gabriel asked as he zipped his own backpack.

Mara nodded.

"Your loss."

"Did everybody remember their infrared?" Shrike asked, scratching his naked scalp.

"What's the fucking point?" Stang said. "The fucking plants give off heat. We can't see shit."

"Look," Shrike said. "It won't hurt to bring it. We may have to go stalking through houses."

"Whatever," Stang said. She brushed past Mara and retrieved her visor from the bedroom.

"And in the name of God, remember your beacons. We don’t want anybody getting lost out there in the bush." He turned to Mara. "Are you going to be here when we get back?"

Mara shrugged. "I doubt it. I have a ticket for the ten hundred off this rock."

"Well, why don't you just wait for us so we can all at least head out together?" Shrike continued. "We'll definitely be back by this evening."

Mara shook her head. "No, I'd be better off going by myself."

"Fine," Shrike said with a hint of irritation. "Let's get going, people. I want to be back by dinner."

"Great," Sarmauch mumbled as he stuffed his cloak in his backpack. Without the billowing folds of the cloak he appeared very thin. "More sludge." Then he turned to Mara and peered at her through his heavy sunglasses. "Well, gad luck ta ya, then." The two shook hands. Sarmauch's white skin was a sharp contrast to Mara's healthier tone.

"Yeah," Gabriel said as he tested the sights of his rifle by pointing it at the television. "Maybe we'll see you again sometime. I just hope we'll be on the same side."

Mara smiled and nodded.

"Leaving me by myself with all these men, huh?" Stang said with a pained smile. "What ever shall I do?"

"I'm sure you'll have them whipped into shape in no time," Mara answered.

"We are not whipped!" Gabriel said defensively.

"Alright, let's get going, people," Shrike said, holding open the door.

As the group left, Cor stopped a few feet in front of Mara. He opened his mouth to speak and halted. After a pause, he said, "Have a good life." Then he followed the others out the door.

Shrike looked at Mara from under his hat with mixed emotions in his golden eyes. "Later," he said with a lethargic wave of his hand. .

The five mercenaries walked down the austere but pleasant hallway. They each looked threatening in their own right, armed and dangerous. As a group they appeared absolutely menacing. Their steps were heavy from the extra gear they were carrying and their supplies shifted slightly with each stride, adding to the affect. A young mother sqeezed herself against the wall as they passed, putting a protective hand on her son.

"Ma'am," Shrike said with a friendly smile, taking a hand off his assault carbine and tipping his hat slightly. Although he was the shortest of the group, he had the largest gun.

"Hey, baby," Gabriel said with a lascivious grin.

"Be nice," Cor cautioned.

"What is it with you?" Gabriel demanded. "Why the hell are you acting so weird lately?"

"Forgive me if for trying to inject a little decency into society."

Gabriel looked at him for a moment, then looked forward again.

There was a middle-aged man waiting by the elevator when they arrived. He looked at them impassively as he drew a deep breath from his blue cigarette. "Looks like you guys are going to one heck of a party."

"We're just going to meet a friend," Shrike said.

"You must have interesting times," the man said.

"It's how we unwind."

The door opened and the five of them squeezed into the small space. The man was still standing on the outside.

"Going down?" Gabriel asked.

"I'll get the next one." He said casually as the doors closed.

As the elevator gently began its decent, the limited air rapidly became soaked with the stench of body odor and weapons oil.

"Do you know the first thing you guys are going to do when we get back?" Stang asked as she watched the floor indicator sink.

"What?" Shrike asked.

"You're all going to take a shower."

"At the same time?" Gabriel asked with a grin. "Oh boy."

The door hissed open to the lobby. Barely a dozen people were milling around in the spacious room. All eyes were on the group as it headed straight from the elevator to the front door.

"Hey mister," a young woman short black dress called to Shrike. "That's an awfully big gun." She followed her statement with some suggestive pelvic movements.

Shrike smiled and tipped his hat.

"My gun's big, too," Gabriel muttered.

"It's naut how big it is," Sarmauch counseled, "it's how well ya can shat with it."

The thick air gusted inward as they opened the doors. It was still warm, but the oppressive heat that went hand-in-hand with the daylight had trotted to the other side of the green planet. The group walked through the parking lot, quickly finding their yellow car.

"One thing that's nice about this peice of shit," Gabriel muttered, "is that you can always find it in a parking lot. Nobody'll steal it, nobody'll even park next to it. Next time, since we have all this money, why don't we rent a nicer car?"

"Maybe we will," Shrike said as he opened the large trunk and began putting his gear inside.

"Where are the jewels, anyway?" Stang asked.

"In a place close to my heart," Shrike said, patting a bulge underneath his shirt.

"Why did you bring them with you?" Cor asked.

"I didn't feel comfortable leaving them in the room."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Cor asked in an anger-tinged voice. "Did you think Mara would steal them?"

"Actually, I was thinking of maids with sticky fingers," Shrike said, "but yeah, now that you mention it, I wouldn't put it past her."

Cor advanced on Shrike until they were standing toe-to-toe. Cor's chin was at Shrike's eye level, but Shrike did not give any ground.

"You know she wouldn't do that," Cor hissed.

"I don't know that," Shrike said, returning the anger. "She's ditching us without telling why and I never thought she'd do that either."

"She has a dman good reason," Cor said.

"Oh yeah? What?"

Cor was silent.

"That's what I thought. Now if you're going to be a fucking psycho we don't need you along on this trip! You got it? Now you'd better fucking shape up or you're out!"

Cor's gaze dropped. "Fine," he said quietly as he turned away.

The group was silent.

"Alright," Shrike said, clapping his hands to shatter the tense hush, "everybody get your shit stowed and let's get rolling."

Within minutes the car was driving through the streets of Demeter, heading for the open jungle. The vehicle rumbled down the wide, flat highway as smoothly as its old engine would allow. Shrike held his hat between his knees so that the wind would not blow it away. A large sign announced that they were leaving Demeter and that the next town was sixty miles away. As they rolled out of the city lights, Sarmauch took off his sunglasses and gazed up at the sky.

"That feels better," he said. "The stars lak much better out here."

The change from city to jungle was abrupt. Beyond the the bustling human-made forest of steel of glass was a nearly instant change to a wide expanse of wasteland. After that, following a near ruler-straight line, the jungle reigned supreme.

"Ya gautta laufe planned settlements," Sarmauch said as he shielded his eyes from the light of an oncoming car.

"Why do they kill such a large expanse of ground around the city?" Stang asked from the back seat.

"They gautta keep out all the little forest creatures," he asnwered, shouting over the wind. "They line the rads with tryptol ta keep the plants fraum tearing it all up."

"How bad is it going to be in the jungle?" Stang asked.

"It shouldn't be too bad," Shrike said. "I've done time on jungle planets before and usually the animals know to steer clear of people. Those who don't get shot."

"Aren't we kind of going into the woods blind?"

"What do we need to know?" Shrike said has he swerved slightly to avoid the unrecognizable bloody carcass of a small animal that had wandered onto the road. "we'll be there for twelve hours tops, we got food, we got first aid kits, we got guns, what do we need to know?"

"It just seems like we did more research before going to Demeter."

"People are harder to deal with that animals," Shrike said reassuringly. "We’ll be alright."

After a half hour of driving, the car came to a shuddering stop in a potmarked parking lot next to a gutted building.

"I thought you said this was a charging station," Gabriel said as the headlights played on the ruins.

"It was suppaused ta be a charge station," Sarmauch said. He scanned over the broken asphalt. "It laks like there was saume kind of battle or skirmish or saumething here."

"So what are we going to do?" Stang asked.

"Well," Shrike said thoughtfully, "whatever action was here is over now. I guess we can leave the car behind the what's left of the building. It's not like anyone's going to steal it."

"Pity being one of the chief reasons," Gabriel muttered.

"Are we going to have enough juice to get back?" Stang asked.

"I charged it up this afternoon," Shrike said. "We’re fine."

Shrike drove the car behind the cadaverous building and turned off the engine. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only be a distant bleating noise and the soft whirring of insects.

"It's awfully quiet for a jungle, don't you think?" Gabriel asked nervously.

"I heard that's how it is here," Cor said. "Sound is not the primary means of communication."

"So that means we have to be extra quiet, people," Shrike said.

Sarmauch examined the ruins, illuminated only by the pale moonlight as the others unpacked their gear.

"See anything interesting?" Shrike asked as he pulled his heavy backpack on.

"It laks like everything's been picked clean fraum the wreakage by either surfifors or the winners. Lauts of small arms damage--"

"Hold on a minute," Shrike said as he put on is light intensifying visor. "Yeah, I see what you mean. It looks like a lot of people have been through there since it burned down. Looks like it's been awhile."

"Look!" Stang exclaimed.

Emerging from the treeline was a small shimmering swarm in luminous insects. The swarm shifted and flowed as if it was a single living being made of light. It wandered to within a few feet of Gabriel. He waved his hand at it to ward it off. The swarm jerked away and began to weave back among the trees.

"That was interesting," Shrike said softly. Then he spoke more loudly. "Okay people, get your stuff ready. It's not getting any earlier." Then he turned back to Sarmauch. "So are we going to hit any major natural barriers?"

Sarmauch took out the contour map he had printed. Sarmauch could read it perfectly, but Shrike depended on the aid of the LI visor. "Praubably our biggest worry will be getting laust. Fraum here ta our aubjectife is pretty much plain jungle with a few hills. The anly landmark I can see is a shalla river when we get within three clicks auf where we want ta be."

"What about that religious settlement you mentioned?"

"We'll stay outside fife clicks auf that, sa it isn't anything ta worry about."

"Sounds good," Shrike said with a nod. "Okay, listen up," he said to the group. "Get your LI on and your stuff ready. When we get into the jungle let's keep it as quiet as possible. Just because we haven't seen any hostiles doesn't mean they're not there. We'll stop to take a rest every three clicks. If you see any of the local fauna, leave it alone. You've each got three liters of water and it shouldn't be too hard to find more. Stay hydrated. Any questions?" He was met with silence. "Okay," he said, lifting his assault carbine, "let's move. Sarmauch, you got the point."

Sarmauch unslung his gauss rifle and vanished into the woods. Shrike and the others followed. Gabriel looked at the woods, then turned for one last gaze at the parking lot and road which were nearly as bright as day because of his LI visor. "We're all gonna die," he muttered and then slipped into the blackness of the jungle.

Travel through the jungle was difficult even with the LI visors. The dense folliage cut out nearly all of the moonlight and the slight phophorescence of some of the plants was disorienting to everyone but Sarmauch. He frequently had to stop to allow the others to catch up. Nevertheless, the mercenaries were alert and as quiet as circumstances would allow. The soft, moist ground absorbed most of the sounds of stumbling and the humid air muffled the murmured curses. They did not speak, but stayed crouched with their weapons ready.

The first break was met with gratitude.

"I hate this fucking place!" Gabriel hissed. "I wish I was back in Zurch's Pub with that druggy bitch."

"Everybody drink at least half a liter," Shrike reminded the group as he popped the lid off of his canteen.

Stang stretched her back, sore and cramped from stalking in a crouched position for too long. "One fourth of the way there," she whispered.

"An eighth of the way," Gabriel said. "Don't forget we gotta get back dragging some writer with us."

"At least that'll be in daylight."

"All the better to get shot," Cor said softly, drinking the last of his first canteen.

"Oh, you're such a ray of sunshine," Gabriel whispered bitterly.

"Knock it off," Shrike said softly. "You can fight all you want when we're out of this jungle. Until then, just focus on the mission, alright? Jesus."

Cor and Gabriel stared at each other through their LI visors.

After a few minutes, they began moving again. A light rain began to pelt the treetops. The water formed much larger drops as it rolled off the leaves and onto the group. The drumming of the rain on Shrike’s hat seemed painfully loud in the silence of the night.

"What more could go wrong?" Gabriel complained.

Suddenly something whipped up in front of him and shined a light in his face. The LI visor amplified the light many times over, burning from his coreas to the back of his brain with the fierce light. Gabriel screamed and fell backward. The others in the group saw their shadows against the trees as the forest behind them lit up.

"Gabe!" Stang shouted. She ripped off her LI visor and ran back to him.

She saw Gabriel lying on his back, squeezing his fingertips against his eyes. She also saw what looked like a sickly lantern being waved in the air by a thin black staff. Then she saw that the staff was the tail a yard-long carapaced creature that began crawling away from Gabriel. The actual light emitted by the appendage was limited, but the magnification of the LI goggles made it devastating.

"Fuckin' bug," Stang said as she leveled her rifle at the creature.

"NO!" Cor shouted as he pushed her rifle out of the way.

"What the fuck?" Stang demanded.

"There's no need to kill it," Cor said, watching as the creature's light faded and it scuttled away. "It was defending itself."

Stang shook her head. "You're really weird, Cor." She knelt by Gabriel and put her LI visor back on now that the light source was gone. "Are you okay, man?" she asked.

Gabriel's eyes were tearing profusely as he tried to open them. "Well, I'm blind, but other than that I'm okay."

"What happened?" Shrike asked as he came running to the scene followed by Sarmauch.

"Dumbass stepped on a bug that shines light in the faces of predators," Cor said.

"Where'd it gau?" Sarmauch asked.

Cor pointed in the direction the creature fled. "That way."

As Sarmauch picked his way through the underbrush, Gabriel managed to sit up. He wiped the tears from his eyes and blinked.

"Great, I'm still blind," he said.

"It's dark, dear," Stang said.

Shrike handed him his visor. Gabriel awkwardly put it on his face. "That's a little better. I'm still not seeing all that well, though."

"Give it time," Sarmauch said as he rejoined the group. "It'll gau away eventually."

"Alright, let's give Gabe a few minutes to rest and then let's get going again," Shrike said.

"I almost shit myself," Gabe said.

A few minutes later Gabriel felt confident enough to walk and the party set off again. The rain slowed and eventually stopped. Another break passed without incident. Soon after they had resumed their trek, Sarmauch suddenly crouched and waved the others down. After a few tense moments, Shrike dared to crawl forward to Sarmauch's position.

"What's going on?" he whispered.

Without looking at Shrike, Saurmach raised a finger to his lips and slowly pointed ahead of them. Barely twenty feet away were two huge crab-like creatures facing off. Their bodies were vaguely ovoid in shap and sat upon dozens of legs. Each was taller than a man. Angry glowing designs raced across their black skin, changing color and shape every second. Each was waving gigantic four-pincered claws menacingly at the other. Their fangs moved ominously, clacking together in anticipation of the fight. They slowly circled each other, trampling plants and driving out smaller creatures.

"Holy fuck," Cor whispered.

Shrike jumped at Cor's exclamation. He had been so absorbed in watching the spectical before him that he did not notice his companion slip up beside him. "Be quiet," he hissed. "We don't want their attention."

"What's going on?" Stang asked quietly.

"Everybody shut up!" Shrike said irritably.

Suddenly the two behemoths charged each other. Their claws locked together and their many legs strained against the soft earth to gain the advantage. The pushed and shoved each other for several minutes with neither gaining the upper hand.

"This could go on forever," Shrike whispered to Sarmauch. "Can we go around them?"

"We cald," Sarmauch answered, "but we daun't knaw why they're fighting or anything. There might be a mate or nest or saumething nearby. I suggest we wait."

"Whatever," Shrike said with a sigh.

Several more minutes past with no victor. Suddenly the ground beneath one of them gave way beneath its weight sending crashing to the ground awkwardly. The other used this opportunity the seize the fallen creature by one of its legs and flip it on its back. The victor quicky clambered on top of its supine foe and began grinding against it spasmodically. This went on for a few minutes until an ear-splitting shriek cut through the night air. Both creatures were still and a sour smell filled the air. Then the apparant victor slowly climbed off of the the other and headed for the woods, leaving a trail of slime. The other leisurely righted itself after a few seconds and began crawling toward the group.

"Shit!" Shrike rasped. "Get down!"

They each crouched as close to the ground as they could, watching the monstrosity approach. Shrike raised his carbine slightly. The creature passed to within a yard of Stang who gritted his teeth hard as every one of her senses was filled with the reality of the beast. If the thing had noticed them, it did not acknowledge their existence. Everyone in the group was absolutely still until the sound of the creature moving through the forest had faded in the night.

Stang was the first to speak. "Fuck!" she said loudly. "What the fuck was that all about? Jesus Christ, I could smell that fucking thing's breath! It had--"

"Pipe down, Stang," Shrike said. "We don't want them coming back."

"Looked like a mating ritual or something," Cor said thoughtfully.

"That’s a hell of a way to fuck," Gabe said.

"Let's get going," Shrike said. "That was a delay we didn't need."

After hours of exhausting, cautious stalking through the dense flora, the thick trees gave way to a wide, slow-moving river. The break in the canopy allowed a brief view of the sky. Only the smaller of the two moons was visible, shedding its anemic light on the water

"I thought you said this was a small river," Shrike said to Sarmauch.

"It's wide, but it's suppased ta be shalla," Sarmauch answered.

"What time is it?"

Sarmauch looked at his watch. "About four."

"We lost a lot of time," Shrike said as he pulled a fruit bar from his backpack.

"Hey," Gabriel said. "What flavor's that?"

"Gradraberry."

"Gross."

"How are we going to get across this river?" Stang asked.

Sarmauch shrugged. "It shaldn't be any more than three or four feet deep."

"Uh-oh," Gabriel said with a grin, "Shrike might drown!"

Shrike finished his food an two bites and walked down to the water's edge. He put his fingers in the water, stroking the river. The sluggish current reluctantly moved around this new obstruction, forming weak wake trails as it rejoined. Then he dunked his canteen into the water until the air fleeing the onslaught of the water stopped bubbling to the surface. He dropped a purifying tablet into the canteen and fastened it to his belt.. "I don't think we have much of a choice," he said, looking up at the far bank. "I'll walk across and if anything happens...well, you'll have to find another way across."

"If you die, can I have your stuff?" Gabriel asked.

Shrike pressed his hat firmly on his head as he stepped into the water. "Well, at least it's not cold." He slowly waded across the water holding his gun above his head. He moved cautiously, feeling the alternately rocky and muddy bottom ahead of him with a foot before he committed himself to a step. By the middle of the river the water was up to his armpits. As he continued toward the far bank the water slowly receded and he finally climbed out onto dry land unscathed.

"It seems okay," he called, "but walk slowly. There are a few tricky spots and we don't want to take any chances with anything thinking you're food."

"As if I don't get wet enough when it rains," Gabriel said as the four of them waded into the water.

The group was two thirds of the way across when Stang jumped.

"Oh Jesus," she said tensely. "Something just brushed by my leg."

"Hold still," Cor cautioned.

"Ah, fuck!" Gabriel said. "She's right. The thing just gave me a cheap thrill."

"Stay calm," Shrike called from the bank.

"That's easy for you to say," Gabriel shouted back. "You don't have something big and slimy trying to get into your pants!"

"Whatefer it is," Sarmauch said nervously, "it's pretty fucking big."

Cor was nearly knocked off balance. "Fucker," he said quietly.

"Guys?" Stang said. "I really, really want to get out of here."

"We can't go anywhere," Cor said evenly. "We can't outrun it, that's for sure."

"If it wanted to eat us," Sarmauch said, "it wald have daune it already."

There was a sudden splash of water as something propelled itself away from the group.

"Looks like it's gone," Gabriel said.

"Then let's get the fuck out of here," Stang said, heading for the bank.

The four made their way to the opposite bank slowly but safely.

"Are you guys alright?" Shrike asked.

"Dandy," Gabriel answered as he examined his pants. "We're finding another way across on the way back. That was just too freaky."

"We're gaunna take forefer ta dry," Sarmauch said.

"We gotta hustle," Shrike said. "The sun will be up by the time we make it to mister Flynn's house."

"Just...give me a minute," Stang said as she put her hands on her knees and took a few deep breaths. "That was a touch stressful."

Shrike looked up at the sky. Indigo had been added to palette of the night by the approaching dawn, adulterating the deep black of the sky. He sighed heavily. A few more minutes slipped away before the group started moving again, Sarmauch again leading them. The woods gradually became brighter as the sun pulled itself over the horizon. Sarmauch was squinting even in the half-light of the early dawn. As more fo the sun's light pierced the canopy, Sarmauch had to relinquish his place at the head of the group to Shrike as the weak radiance overwhelmed his colorlesseyes. He put on his sunglasses and cloak while the others took off or toned down their LI visors.

The woods abruptly gave way to a clearing. The morning sun shined down on well-kept fields of gently swaying blue reeds. There was a pen made of ragged wood rails that held stubby-legged, bleating reptilian creatures beside a huge solitary tree. Long, supple branches brushed the ground under the tree except in the pen where they had been cropped short by the creatures. Near the center of the clearing sat a squat house with a sunken roof. Blue smoke lazily climbed skyward from the crumbling chimney.

Gabriel used the pause to scratch his crotch. "I hate being wet."

"Well boys and girls," Sarmauch said as he checked the map, "we're here."

"Well, we know they're awake," Shrike said. "I suppose the best thing to do would be to take the direct approach and get there before they're completely woken up." He pointed to the corral. "The crops should give us enough cover until we reach the pen. When we get there, we'll figure out to do next. Got it?" He was answered with nods. "Okay, let's move out in V formation."

With Shrike leading the way, the group stalked forward through the tall reeds. Visbility was was reduced to nearly zero by the tall plants and the scarce air between the blades was filled with a putrid sweetish smell. Finally they each emerged from the sea of blue a few yards from the sty. The creatures in the corral looked a the intruders casually with their black, stalked eyes. There was a small mound of a white, grainy substance near the fence.

Still hunched over, the mercenaries quickly cleared the short distance between the crops and the corral. The stench became stronger.

"What is that smell?" Stang asked, making eye contact with one of the more inquisitive creatures.

Gabriel slipped up to the mound and took a handful in his hand. He held it up to his nose and jerked his head back. "This is it," he said with a disgusted face. "But what the hell is it?"

One of the creatures walked up to the rail near the little hill. It extended a tube from its body through the rail and dropped a few dozen white pellets on the top. The smell became suddenly sharper.

"It's shit," Cor said.

"Oh, Jesus," Gabriel said, dropping the grains he had picked up and wiping his hands vigorously on his pants. "That's really gross."

"Will you guys knock it the fuck off?" Shrike said angrily. "We're almost done. We don't want to fuck this up now."

Suddenly the front door of the house creaked open. "Smitmen," Sarmauch hissed as he crouched closer to the ground.

"Get down!" Shrike ordered. "Be quiet!"

A girl in patchwork clothing and tangled blond hair walked nonchalantly from the house holding a heavy bucket.

"That doesn't look like any Tom Flynn," Stang whispered.

As the girl approached, all but one of the animals hurried over to a low-standing trough and began bleating exitedly. The last one was standing a few inches from Shrike and staring at him with great interest.

"Here's breakfast, guys!" the girl announced as she dumped the green sludge from the bucket into the trough. "Have some nice slime!" Then she noticed the one creature staring at Shrike. The animal's body blocked her view of Shrike. "What's the matter Bebby?" she asked. "Not hungry?"

The creature twisted one of its eyes back at her for a few seconds and then focused on Shrike again.

"Get the fuck out of here!" Shrike hissed from under the brim of his hat, not daring to move.

The creature's tongue snaked between the bars and began probing Shrike's face. He closed his mouth and eyes tight as the slimy appendage probed him. Suddenly it shot up his nose.

"Fuck!" Shrike shouted in surprise and disgust as he fell back.

The girl's eyes opened wide when she saw the armed man. She dropped the bucket and ran back toward the house. "Grandpa!" she screamed.

"Dammit!" Gabriel said as he jumped to his feet and chased the girl, rifle in hand. Their cover blown, the other three members of the group trained their rifles on the house and began moving toward it. Shrike joined them after he had wiped the creature's mucous from his face.

Gabriel tackled the girl when she was halfway to the house. She screamed hysterically as he pulled her up and held her with his arm around her throat.

Suddenly the front door of the house burst open and a heavy-set man with a bit of whispy white hair pointed a rifle at Gabriel. "Put her down now or I'll blow your fucking head off!" he shouted.

"Grandpa!" the girl screamed again in tears.

"No," Shrike shouted back. "We'll blow your head off!"

The man's eyes darted quickly over the four guns pointed at him then returned the Gabriel. "Let her go!"

"Draup your weapaun," Sarmauch shouted, "or we'll blau ya ta pieces!"

There was a brief silence as the man's eyes darted to Sarmauch and he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "What?" he shouted in the same tone of voice.

Cor stepped forward and spoke in a more relaxed voice. "He said, 'Drop your weapon or we'll kill you,' although we'd rather not have to kill anyone. You won't win a gunfight, so just drop your gun and we'll all be happy."

"Let my granddaughter go!"

"We don't want anything to do with your granddaughter," Cor said softly, loosening his grip on his rifle. "We'll let her go as soon as you drop your rifle."

"How can I trust you?" the man asked, relaxing slightly though still frightened.

"If we wanted to kill you," Cor said reasonably, "couldn't we have done it by now?"

There was a tense silence. "Alright," the man said, lowering his rifle. "You win." He grasped his gun by its barrel and tossed it on the ground.

Cor nodded to Gabriel. "Let her go, Gabe."

Gabriel slowly released his grip on the girl. She tore herself away from him and ran into her grandfather's arms. With both hands free, Gabriel lost no time aiming his rifle on the man. The group slowly closed in on him.

"What do you want?" the man asked.

Gabriel cautiously bent down and picked up the man's rifle. "Okay, gramps, face down on the ground, now!"

With his granddaughter still clinging to his arm, the man slowly lied down on his stomach with is arms outstretched.

"Is there anybody still in the house?" Shrike asked. "It would be a shame if we got surprised by someone and accidentally shot them."

"Dane," the man called, "come outside. And bring Mark."

A young woman with frightened blue eyes appeared at the door holding a golden-locked toddler who looked like he was on the verge of tears.

"Come on, sweety," Gebriel said coaxingly.

The woman looked down at the prostrate man and stepped carefully out of the doorway into the sunlight.

"What do you want?" the man repeated.

"This is gonna sound like a stupid question," Shrike said, "but which one of you is Tom Flynn?"

"I am," the man said, looking up at Shrike.

"Well we have orders to you bring you into custody," Shrike said.

"Who sent you?" Tom asked.

"Vinnie Baker, the guy in charge."

"You're going to take me in to that dictator? Why don't you just kill me now?"

"We don't get into the politics of it," Shrike said as he lowered his gun and took out a pair of handcuffs.

"I don't believe this," Tom mumbled into the dirt as Shrike bound his hands together. "We come all the way out here to get away from the killing and it follows us."

"We haven't killed anybody yet," Shrike said.

"So," Gabriel said to the woman, "what's a cute chick like you doing with an old fart like him?"

Dane looked at him with a dumbfounded expression on her face. "He's my father-in-law, you idiot!" she blurted.

"My wife and my son, her husband, were killed by one of Baker's attempts to assassinate me," Tom said as he was pulled to his feet. His granddaughter was still clinging to his arm. "They tried to kill me for speaking my mind."

"About what?" Shrike asked conversationally as he frisked Tom.

"First how shitty the government was, and then how Baker was probably involved with Robinson's assassination."

Shrike looked up at Sarmauch who had wrapped a slender hand around one of Tom's muscular arms.

"Raubinsaun was the last gaufernor," he said. "He was killed by a baumb explausion that was aufficially blamed aun the rebels."

"You're obviously confusing us with people who care," Shrike said.

"What about what's left of my family?" Tom asked, looking down at the tear-soaked cheeks of his granddaughter.

"They can go back to doing what they were doing before," Shrike said as he pulled the granddaughter away from Tom.

"They can't deal with life out here," Tom said. "They've been city folks their whole lives. I was raised out here, I know how to live."

"They'll learn," Shrike answered. "Now say your goodbyes and let's go."

"Jesus, Shrike," Stang muttered.

"Tom..." the Dane said. The girl was clinging to her arm now, and Mark had buried his face in her shoulder.

"It's alright," Tom said. "If things get too bad for you just go up to that commune. I'll be ok--"

Suddenly Sarmauch was blinded by a gout of blood that covered his face and sunglasses. "Smitmen!" he said with surprise.

A third of Tom's head, including one of his eyes, had disintigrated. He continued standing for almost a second as his jaw dropped and his remaining eye registered extreme surprise. Then he collapsed like a deck of cards.

There was a stunned, intense silence for a split second.

"Tom!" Dane screamed.

"Sniper!" Gabriel shouted.

"Get into the house!" Shrike yelled, dragging the disoriented Sarmauch behind him.

Stang shoved Dane and her children through the door before following.

Inside everyone fell to the floor to avoid being shot through the windows. "Did anybody see anything?" Shrike shouted.

"There's nothing to see!" Cor shouted back over the screaming of the two terrified children. "I didn't hear anything either!"

"Fuck!" Shrike said. He slipped up to a window and dared to peer through it. All he saw was the field and the thick jungle beyond.

"Whoefer that was," Sarmauch said, wiping his face, "they were an awsaume fucking shaut!"

"What do we do now?" Stang asked.

"I guess that we just sit here and see what happens," Shrike said more calmly.

"Will you shut those fucking kids up?" Gabriel said angrily to Dane. "They're giving me a fucking headache."

Dane held the two children close and tried to sooth them, but she was crying herself.

"Okay, everyone get a window on some side of the house," Shirke ordered. "I want to know if anyone starts coming toward the house."

Each member of the group crawled to a window and scanned the surrounding terrain. The first few tense minutes dragged out to almost an hour. The temperature inside the cabin rose as the sun beat down on the planet. The crying of the children had calmed to a few sporadic sobs. Dane's tears of grief and terror had changed to tears of rage as she stared unwaveringly at Shirke with red angry eyes.

"Why did you do this?" she hissed at him as he surveyed the forest from the corner of the small window. The sun played off the beads of sweat on his dark face and naked scalp.

Shrike looked back at her. "We didn't do anything, lady. We just wanted to bring him in and be done with it. We didn't count on assassins being here waiting for us."

"You led them to him," she said accusingly.

"How do you think we found you?" Shrike asked matter-of-factly. As he spoke, his voice became increasingly irritated. "Everybody knows where you guys have been hiding out. That info was handed to us by Baker himself! If he wanted you dead, he could have just nuked this whole fucking farm! Jesus!" Shrike pounded his fist into the wall and tried to shake the rage from his head. "I don't know why Tom was killed," he said more calmly, "or by who. Right now let's concentrate on getting us out of here."

"Why should we be concerned with getting you out at all?"

Shrike looked at her. "I meant all of us. Jesus, we're mercenaries but we're not sociopaths."

Stang offered Dane her canteen. Dane looked at her suspiciously for a moment and then took the canteen. She gave water to Mark first, then the girl, then herself, nearly empying the canteen. After she handed the canteen back to Stang, she continues to glare at Shrike.

Gabriel crawled up to her. His sweat-soaked shirt was sticking to his skin. "Hey, where can we get more water around here?"

The woman did not acknowledge him.

"Hey!" Gabriel said loudly, grabbing her arm.

Dane's face jerked toward him.

"Where is your water source?" he repeated.

"There's a pump near the pen..."

"Outside?"

Dane nodded.

"Ter-fucking-rific," Gabriel said. He crawled over to Shrike. "Shrike, we gotta make a break for it. They're just gonna wait until we die of thirst."

"They'll pick us off as soon as we get out the door," he asnwered.

"If they wanted to kill us all, don't you think they could have done it already? Hell, they're probably not even watching the house anymore."

"We’ve got enough water to last all day."

"Yeah? And then what? We’ll be no safer at night."

Shrike turned at looked out the window.

There was a long pause. "Fuck this," Gabriel said through clenched teeth. He stood up and strode quickly toward the door.

"Gabe!" Stang shouted.

Rifle ready, Gabriel kicked open the door. A swarm of fist-sized pincered creatures fluttered from the body of Tom Flynn in an orange cloud. The corpse was partly skeletonized, it's face a red-flecked grinning skull. It's one empty eye socked watched Gabriel. Bits of clothing surrounded the cadaver like confetti. Its limbs were almost free of their sheath of flesh.

Gabriel paused when he saw the remains. He took a deep breath and charged for the woods. The creatures in the pen were unconcerned as they rested in the shade of the tree. Garbiel strode heavily through the tall reeds and tumbled into the jungles. He lied in the underbrush, staring back at the sun-drenched clearing. Then he stood up and waved to the cabin.

"He made it," Stang observed from the doorway. Her eyes flitted back down to Flynn's body. The swarm was again coalescing to feast.

"Okay," Shrike said. "Stang, you and Sarmauch make the break for it next, okay?"

"I'm ready," Sarmauch said, clutching his rifle tightly.

"Go!" Shrike ordered.

The two dashed into the scorching sunlight. Sarmauch jumped over the corpse, sending the scavengers skyward again. As they ran, Sarmauch's hood was blown back by the wind. The sun shined off his shiny white skin for only a second before he pulled his hood back up and held it there. Cor and Shrike watched as they charged through the blue plants and back into the green with Gabriel.

"Well," Cor said, "we're next." He turned to Dane. "Come on, we're going to get out of here."

Dane did not answer. She simply held the two exhausted children tightly.

"Maybe we shouldn't bring them," Shrike said.

Cor looked at Shrike through narrowed eyes. Then he moved closer to Dane and gently pulled the girl away from her.

"Mommy," the girl said weakly as she clung tighter.

Dane stared into Cor with her ice blue eyes for a moment. "It's okay, Urse," she said to the child. "Go with the nice man."

Urse reluctantly allowed Cor to pick her up. Then Dane climbed to her feet, holding Mark on her hip.

"Come on," Shrike said, motioning them toward the doorway.

When Dane saw Tom's body, she staggered backward, clamping her hand to her mouth. "Oh my God," she whispered as one of the orange creatures stretched into his remaining eye socket for a particularly succulent piece of meat.

"Don't look, honey," Cor said as he pushed Urse's face into his shoulder.

"Are you okay to run?" Shrike asked Dane.

She nodded, holding Mark tightly. He paused for a moment. "I'll go first," he said. "I'll tell you when to come."

With that, Shrike ran out the door and circled quicky, pointing his carbine at the surrounding trees. He motioned for Cor and Dane to follow. The two of them, each burdened with a child, ran as fast as they could from the house. Dane tried not to look at the mutilated corpse lying sprawled on the dirt. Shrike stayed alert as the other two ran past him, staring at the trees for any hint of movement. He stayed near the the cabin until Dane and Cor were nearly to the pen. Then with a slight skip, he began to follow them.

"Stop!" Urse screamed.

What-" Cor said, surprised.

"They'll die if we can't take care of them," she shrieked, pointing at the lazy, bloated creatures in the corral. "We have to let them out."

Cor turned and began trotting back toward the pen.

"Keep going for the woods," Shrike said. "I'll handle this." As Cor turned and resumed running for the jungle, Shrike yanked the rusted bolt from the lock and kicked open the door. The animals, heaped together in the shade, did not stir. "Fuckin' kids," he whispered. He dashed for the woods.

Shrike finally made it into the shadows of the jungle. He looked back at the distance they traveled and expelled a long sigh.

"Shrike," Gabriel said with a grin, "you are such a humanitarian."

"And you," Shrike answered, staring right at him, "are an asshole. You could have gotten us all killed pulling that damn stunt."

"Between getting shot and dying of thirst, I'll take getting shot any day."

"What are we gaing ta da now?" Sarmauch asked.

Shrike leaned up against a bristly tree and put his hands on his knees. "Well, this certainly didn't end up the way I expected. I figure that someone else must have been gunning for Flynn."

"That's one hell of a coincidence," Cor said as he let Urse slide from his hip to the ground.

"You got any other ideas?" Shrike asked.

"I say we were set up, goddammit," Garbriel said. "That was all just too perfect."

"Well who would set us up?" Stang asked.

Gabriel shrugged. "Dunno. Someone who wanted to pin the murder on us, maybe."

"Yeah, but we hafe witnesses now," Sarmauch said, motioning toward Dane.

Gabriel looked at Dane. She was still holding Mark while Urse clung to her leg. "Are you going to back us up?"

"If you get my children out of here alive," Dane said more confidently, "I'll do anything you say."

A grin walked lightly across Gabriel's face. "We may just hold you to that."

"Quit being an idiot, Gabe," Cor said.

"Knock it off," Shrike said. "The only thing we can do is get back to Demeter and figure out what the hell is going on. We can't do any of that here in the jungle."

"I should have gone with Mara," Gabriel muttered as they headed back into the depths of the jungle.

Mara was in the bedroom packing her earthly possessions. She was sitting on her bed, tightly wrapping her rifle in an off-white canvas. Her grossly overstuffed black backpack lounged at an angle on the bedspread in satiated obesity. She stood up and picked up her backpack with a grunt. She took her silver amulet from the nightstand and draped it over her head. Then she awkwardly smoothed out the ripples on her bedspread with her free hand. She stood up and looked at the room, appreciating the contrast between her immaculately made bed and Stang's chaotic jumble of fabric. She sighed heavily and walked out into the main room. She surveyed the clutter of the room and her companions' lives in the innocent light of a new morning. Finally she left the apartment.

Mara walked quickly down the empty hallway. The soft impact of her feet against the worn brown carpet was magnified by the tranquility of the hotel in the morning hours. The first person she saw was the clerk sitting at the desk as she walked throught the lobby. He had been dozing off, his arm propping up his head. When Mara walked through the lobby, he jerked awake and peered at her through sleep-clouded eyes.

"Will you be checking out, ma'am?" he asked in an exhaustion dampened voice.

"I am," she answered, not slowing her stride, "but the other people I'm with won't be for another day or so."

"Have a nice day," the clerk said automatically as his eyes began drooping again.

Mara nodded politely and opened the door. A surge of oppressively hot air greeted her. "Jeez," she whispered as she pushed out into the sunlight. Pellets of sweat appeared on her skin almost immediately as she trudged down the sidewalk. The city was just beginning to wake up and traffic on the streets was still sparse. The sound of distant gunfire ruined the illusion of peace.

She walked a few blocks to a bench being guarded by a large blue sign that said "TRANS STOP." She sat down heavily, dropping her backpack on the cement next to the bench. She laid her rifle across her lap and leaned back on the rough wood. She tapped her foot to some improvised tune as she waited.

Across the street was the scorched corpse of a building that had been blasted by a bomb. Bright yellow caution tape cordoned off the area from the sidewalk. The windows of the adjoining buildings had been replaced by cardboard and the sidewalk in front of them glittered with pulverized glass. Mara looked down the street for the bus.

An old man in a thin pale blue shirt shuffled up to the bench with difficulty. "Do you mind if I sit here for a moment, miss" he asked, looking at her from under bushy white eyebrows.

She gave him a pleasant smile. "Not at all," she said, moving slightly toward the end of the bench.

He expelled his breath slowly as he sank into the bench as if he was deflating. He was quiet for a few moments as he scrutinized the wreakage across the sreet.

"That was Zorillo's store," he said suddenly.

"What?" Mara asked.

"Zorillo was running a leather store there," he said. "He had all kinds of stuff. He was even selling a coat made from Thrasher skin. Ugliest thing I ever saw."

"So what happened to it?"

The man shrugged. "The rebels blew it up yesterday."

"Why would they want to blow up a leather store?"

"Zorillo used to work fir the government," the man answered. "He got up to governing council before he retired. It was a shame, too. He was part of the first government they set up."

"After the revolt?" Mara asked, trying to sound knowledgeable.

The man simply nodded. "Hill recommended him for it."

"You mean Bryan Hill?" Mara asked with a touch of interest.

The man nodded again. The loose skin dangling under his chin rippled slightly as he did. "He's certainly changed since then. Went on to do big things."

"Well, he certainly is fucking everything up now," Mara said disdainfully.

"Nobody's perfect," the man said. "He could work the bureacracy and he used it to uncover the Gunther Conspiracy. You know, those government guys who had secret deals running with local leaders?"

Mara nodded absently.

"He just wasn't cut out to be a leader." Then he took his eyes off the building and looked at Mara's backpack. "Where are you headed?"

"I'm getting off-planet."

The man turned his eyes back to the building. "I don't blame you. This place is tearing itself to peices. The rebels kill anybody who works for the government...or used to work for them," he added, motioning to the wreakage, "and the government shoots people on suspicion of being rebel sympathizers. There just aren't any heroes anymore."

"I’d believe that."

The man smiled slightly. "Some people still hope that Mahkra will come back out of the woods and make things right again, like she did all those years ago.It’s a nice thought. I actually met her briefly when I was a boy. She saved my life." The man’s eyes moistoned at the thought. "It’s a sad commentary on society when people are pinning their hopes on someone who by now would be older than dirt."

Mara was silent.

"But, it's home." The man looked down the road and pointed with one bony finger. "Your bus is here."

A sleek grey vehicle slid to a graceful stop in front of Mara. The side was emblazoned with with italized words "Demeter Translines". The door slid open with a hiss and the gray uniformed driver looked at her expectantly.

She stood up and grabbed her backpack. "Well, it's been nice talking to you," she said.

"Good luck," he said as she boarded the bus.

Mara handed the driver a few pieces of paper currency and walked down the aisle. There were a handful of passengers sitting in the smooth, soft seats. She picked one near the front and sat staring at the window. With a whirr that reverberated through the bus, the vehicle slowly accelerated. The ride was as smooth as glass, leaving Mara alone in her thoughts. As the vehicle left the city, it settled onto a metallic rail running parallel to the highway. It accelerated quickly until the trees of the jungle were little more than green blurs. Less than a half hour later it began to slowly decelerate and Mara saw a shining transport float down from the sky of a cushion of pale blue flame.

"Sargasso Spaceport," the driver announced indifferently over the intercom.

Mara stood up and hoisted her backpack on her shoulder and tucked her rifle under her arm. She walked awkwardly down the narrow aisle with her cumbersome burdens. The vehicle slid to a stop next to the glittering metallic terminal. The hot air was again there to greet her as she stepped off the bus. She walked quickly through the tinted glass doors and into the cool air conditioning of the spaceport.

The interior was spacious and well designed. A few small windows near the ceilings welcomed a small amount of sunlight. Vines of neon luminescence, created by circuitry hidden in the translucent walls, snaked across the interior with fluid unpredictability. There was a large fountain in the center of the foyer made of black marble and surrounded by gold ellipses. Few of the commuters that walked through its glory stopped to appreciate the architects' skill.

Mara walked straight through the anteroom and waited impatiently in the long ticketing line. She was standing behind a bald man about her height wearing scruffy business clothes. He was holding a suitcase stuffed to its breaking point. He looked back at Mara.

"So you're getting the hell of this planet, too, huh?" he asked, the bristles on his face forming a smile.

"Yep," she said, watching the first person in line with growing impatience as the overweight woman haggled with the perpetually smiling hologram.

"Don't blame you," the man continued. "Things are getting too hot around here...uh, no pun intended. I asked for a transfer for my company--I'm planetary manager for Aldi Corp--and they wouldn't do it so I quit. Better broke than dead, I say. I'm heading for Antares to start over. What about you?"

Mara had only been half listening and there was a pause as what he asked sunk in. "I'm going to Kashmir junction. After that, I don't know."

"Well good luck to you then," the man said. The line sluggishly advanced a few steps and stopped. The man started speaking again. "It seemed like a pretty good deal at first. I mean, since Verdencia was growing so quickly..."

Mara had quit listening. Her attention shifted briefly to the elderly woman behind her who was cooing softly to a whining creature in a yellow pet carrier. Orange tentacles dangled impotently from the caged window and the woman stroked them softly. Mara's attention turned to a large vidscreen a few yards away from them. The inch-thick monitor displayed the somber, detached face of a cultivated-looking man. His voice was just loud enough for Mara to hear over the chattering man in front of her and the overbearing woman behind her. The man was talking about the crash in commodity prices. Mara was about to try to find something else to fix her attention on when the screen changed.

Now the vidscreen showed an arial view of the shattered building she had been to less than an hour before. Mara tuned her ears into what the anchor man was saying out of bored curiosity.

"...of Randolph Zorillo, who was until last year chief councilman of Verdencia. The bombing has been officially blamed on the insidious rebel faction in its continuing attempts to strike at current and past government officials." The screen changed from the blackened wreckage of the store to a photograph of a smiling, dark-haired man with a broad chin. "Zorillo had been a patriot who served his community since the overthrow of Lord Strak, nearly fifty Earth years ago. He will be sadly missed by his wife, three children, and nine grandchildren."

The vidscreen shifted to an anchorwoman with finely kept brown hair and vibrant green eyes. A small square above her left shoulder contained the words "ASSASSINATION" in stark white above the logo of a dripping red blade. She spoke with a deep, smooth voice.

"Early this morning the body of Tom Flynn, popular journalist and son of Scott Flynn, was found near his home in the jungle, brutally shot to death." The screen showed the scne of a ramshackle home and a body with a white sheet thrown over it. A dozen men in black uniforms and shining badges were roving around in the area. "Flynn's daughter and two grandchildren are missing. Police believe that the assassins abducted his family, possibly to use as ransom, and headed into the woods in the direction of Route seventeen, but could be anywhere in sector twenty-two."

By now the vidscreen had attracted quite a few other watchers. Mara could only look at the screen in disbelief.

"What did you guys do?" she whispered, unconciously clutching te crucifix around her neck.

"Provisional Governor Vincent Baker had this to say in a news conference shortly after the news had broken," the anchorwoman said.

A tall man with short black hair and small black eyes appeared behind a cluster of microphones. "I'm not going to pretend that Mister Flynn was any friend of this administration, but I find his murder an appalling atrocity that will not be tolerated. Whoever is responsible for this heinous act must be prosecuted. Therefore, I am offering the award of five hundred thousand credits to any information that leds to the capture of these ciminals."

The vidscreen showed the anchorwoman again. "The ISF has since released to us the identity of the leader of a group of mercenaries believed to be responsible for the murder."

"Oh, God," Mara whispered as a photograph of Shrike's face filled up the screen. He was staring at the camera, emotionless.

"This photograph was taken from passport files," the anchorwoman explained. "This is the man believed to be their leader, a man named Allen McRitchie, also called 'Shrike'. He is believed to be traveling with four or five other mercenaries who had a part in the murder." The vidscreen returned to the anchor woman. "The reward will be distributed, at one hundred thousand per mercenary, to anyone bringing in these assassins, dead or alive."

Then the camera pulled back, showing the entire, comfortable studio. "Coming up next," the anchorman said with a professional smile, "Demeter Rangers in a tough contest against the New Plymouth Crusaders..."

"But first," the woman chimed in, "unusually chilly weather on the way. Stay tuned for channel Eight weather."

The scene faded into a commercial promoting the fourth centennial of Coca-Cola.

"I don't believe this," Mara said as she tore her eyes away from the vidscreen.

People around her were muttering in disbelief of the murder and the sum being awarded.

"Wow," the man in front of her said. "A reward like that makes you almost want to stay, huh?"

"Yeah," she said quietly. She abruptly walked out of the line toward the exit. There would be another bus for Demeter in less than an hour.

"Shut that goddamn kid up," Gabriel hissed at Dane, raising his fist in an unsubtle threat.

"Be quiet honey," Dane whispered to Mark, who was crying weakly. Urse, clinging to her mother, looked at Gabriel with wide, frightened eyes.

Cor turned around. "Settle the fuck down, Gabriel. You’re not making this any easier on them."

Gabriel directed his anger at Cor. "I say we just fuckin’ leave them then! Jesus! It’s not bad enough that we’re in the middle of daylight carrying around extra baggage that doesn’t know how to move quietly, but we’ve got those fucking kids crying! They’re going to get us fucking killed!" He viciously wiped a droplet of sweat from the tip of his nose with a frustrated growl.

"I said that I’d back up your story," Dane said bitterly as she kneeled, holding both of her frightened children.

"Fuck the story!" Gabriel said as loudly as a whisper would allow. "It’ll be days before anybody finds his fucking body! We could be off this planet on the other end of space before anybody figured it out! But now we’re going to get shot because of you and your fucking kids!"

"Mommy," Urse wailed loudly. "I want to go home!"

"Oh, that’s it," Gabriel said. He raised his rifle at Urse and took aim.

Cor pushed the gun away. Gabriel fired a bolt which grazed the trunk of a tree, sending lavender fluid spraying over the ground. Cor punched Gabriel full in the face. Gabriel stumbled backward, regained his composure, and lunged for Cor. The two of them fell to the ground in a desperate, sweaty melee. Dane clutched her children protectively as she screamed Cor’s name.

A few seconds later Stang and Sarmauch burst through the foliage. "What the fuck are ya daing?" he said as he tried to separate the two combatants. Sarmauch managed to get Gabriel in a headlock and wrench him away from the fight as Stang maneuvered herself between the two.

Cor stood breathing heavily, watching Gabriel as he slipped out of Sarmauch’s grasp. Gabriel glared at Cor, blood running down his face.

"I’m gonna fucking kill you!" he shouted as he jabbed his finger in Cor’s direction.

"Like hell you will," Stang said.

Shrike finally made it to the scene. "What the fuck’s going on?" he hissed.

Cor answered in a conversational tone. "Gabriel had some ideas about--"

"Shut the fuck up!" Shrike hissed. "There’s a patrol of about a a dozen armed riders on squawkers coming this way! They heard the noise and they’re double-timing it!"

"Smitmen," Sarmauch whispered.

"Spread out, twenty meter radius," Shrike ordered. "We’re gonna try to avoid a fight if we can. Stang, take Dane and the kids forty meters off the trail to safety. Go!"

Gabriel picked up his rifle and stared at Cor as he disappeared into the trees after Stang and Dane. Gabriel went in the other direction. As they hurridly spread out into the jungle, the sounds of the approaching squawkers became audible.

One of the huge, black and green feathered birds lumbered into the small clearing made by the scuffle. The rider was wearing green camoflage and a green and black cap that said "Demeter Rangers". He was thickly built with red locks of hair trailing down his back. He was chewing a large wad of phosphorescent plant fibers. Other squawkers quickly filled in behind him.

"Something sure as hell happened here," he said, looking down at the crushed foliage around him.

Another man climbed down from his squawker and kneeled down in the grass. This hunter had dark skin and a thick black mustache with a few shards of white in it. "Looks like they had a bit of a scuffle," he said. He dipped his finger in a droplet of blood. "There’s no honor among murderers I guess."

"Look at that guap-tree," a younger man said, pointing to the bleeding tree that Gabriel’s bolt had grazed.

"They’re probably still in the area," the red-haired man said. "Spread out, but stay in sight of each other."

The group of squawkers began to disperse. Some of the riders had to fight the squawkers’ desire to stay together, jerking the reins hard. Their riders scanned the foliage around them, rifles ready. One of them was heading directly for the fallen tree Sarmauch had chosen as a hiding place. He slowly and quietly pressed his body into the log as much as he could while drawing his black serrated knife. He held his breath as the heavy, plodding feet of the squawker approached him. He dared to look up at the rider and saw a heavy-set, stern-faced woman astride the bird, searching the foliage with small, angry eyes.

Nearby Dane and her children crouched behind a mound that was covered with serpentine, yellow plants that waved gently in the air. She was bouncing slightly, making soft, soothing noises to calm Mark and Urse. Between the yellow stalks of the plant she could see a rider advancing slowly, watching the jungle around him for any movement. The rider stopped a few yards from them. His sweaty, tatoo-laden arms shined in a splinter of sunlight that fought its way through the trees. He casually pulled a pale blue cigarette from his pocket and lit it. He took a deep drag and exhaled pollutants into the humid air. The smoke glided away, twisting gently in the warm air like a living thing. "I hate the bush," the man muttered. He turned away and began heading back toward the clearing.

Dane's eyes were transfixed on the rider. She did not notice the six-winged chromium red insect land on Mark's head. Mark reached up to bat it away when it stung. Mark shrieked in pain. Dane clamped her hand over Mark's mouth and looked back at the rider.

The man had stopped and was looking at the mound behind which Dane was hiding. He pointed his rifle at the mound and urged his squawker to approach. "You better come out of there," he said in a commanding tone. "I'd rather not kill you but it won't keep me up nights if I do."

Dane slowly stood, holding Mark with one arm and holding Urse's hand with the other. She looked at the man with her chin high and no expression on her face. Mark was sobbing into her shoulder, his tiny hands covering the red spot on his head.

"Well, well," the man said with a hint of a smile. He shifted his cigarette in his mouth thoughtfully for a moment and turned to his left and waved with his rifle.

A few seconds later, a second squawker trotted into view bearing a man with a bushy brown beard. "Whaddya got, Sid?" Then he looked at Dane. "Who's that?"

"I don't know," Sid said with a wide toothy grin, "but she's pretty cute. Whaddya say we get us some R and R?" The two dismounted and began stalking toward Dane.

She took a step back. "Stay away from us," she said, fear creeping into her voice.

The bearded man began maneuvering himself behind her as Sid slowly closed in from the front. Sid confidently leaned his rifle against the mound and took off his sweaty leather vest to reveal a chest and abdomen as intricately tatooed as his arms.

"Stay back," Dane said unsteadily. "I'm warning you."

"Mommy..." Urse said, too exahusted to feel fear.

"Cute kids," Sid said, not shifting his eyes to look at them. "Wouldn't want anything to happen to them, would we?" He tossed his cigarette on the ground and approached to within inches of her face, his acrid breath poisoning her air. "Maybe your little daughter would like to be broken in today."

Dane's expression changed from terror to rage. She released Urse's hand and moved to strike Sid's face. The other man chose that moment to lunge. He clamped one meaty hand over her mouth and the other around her waist, catching her free arm with his elbow. Sid ripped Mark from her hands and tossed him on the ground.

"This'll be fun," he hissed with a hungry grin.

"Let go of my mommy!" Urse screamed as she threw herself at Sid. Sid kicked her hard in the chest, sending her small body sprawling on the ground. Dane used the distraction to knee Sid hard in the groin. Sid stumbled backwards, doubled over in pain.

"Dust the kids!" the man holding Dane hissed. "They'll give us away!"

Sid shook the cobwebs from his head and picked up his rifle. "First your brats," he said to Dane, "then you." He leveled the barrel at Mark's huddled body when a sharp crack split the air. Sid's head snapped back as the gauss bolt struck his cervical vertibrae and exited through his throat in a red spray. Sid's body collapsed like rag doll.

For moment everything froze. Then the surviving assailant threw Dane to the ground and unslung his rifle from his shoulder. The thunderous boom of his carbine shook the trees as he fired blindly into the woods, drowning out the sound of the several bolts that struck his torso in quick succession. He stumbled backward from the multiple impacts and fell.

Stang sprang from a patch of foliage and ran toward Dane, rifle in hand. Dane was holding both her children tightly and sobbing uncontrollably.

"Come on!" Stang hissed. "They'll all be coming here in a few seconds!" She pulled Dane up by the back of her shirt. "Come on!"

The wounded man raised his head in defiance of death and watched and Stang as she dragged Dane away. "Bitch," he said, causing a fleeting bubble of blood to appear on his lips.

Sarmauch had been lying as silently as possible with his teeth gritted hard. The squawker towered over him and the rider was scanning the trees. The giant bird had stopped one step short of crossing the log that Sarmauch was using as cover. The woman had only to look down to see him lying there, defenseless.

The sound of gunfire made the bird jump and dance slightly. The woman craned her neck around to look in the direction of the shooting. Sarmauch pulled himself into a crouch and surged upward, catching the woman off guard. He plunged the knife into her side while grabbing her shoulder and pulling her heavy body from the squawker. The bird shrieked and stumbled to the side as its burden was unceremoniously ripped from its back. Sarmauch plunged the knife into her throat, cutting off her cry of surprise and pain. In spite of her injuries, she managed to throw Sarmauch off of her and stagger to her feet, the knife still protruding from her throat. Sarmauch ended her suffering with a single shot from his rifle.

As he pulled his knife from her larynx, the sounds of gunfire erupted all around him. He looked around fervently. There was another rider several yards away who looked as confused as Sarmauch. The two saw each other simultaneously and each prepared to shoot the other. Sarmauch was quicker and the rider fell from his steed.

Chaos exploded in the woods. Sarmauch heard the chilling scream of a wounded squawker. It was followed by the screams of a man that were abruptly cut off. Then he heard another voice shouting. "Regroup! Fall ba--". Sarmauch crouched in the foliage, sweat droplets tracing lazy trails over his white skin. He stalked slowly toward the clearing, keeping his rifle ready. He heard the thundering sound of a squawker galloping away and a few seconds another followed in the same direction. The thick plant life allowed him only a fleeting view of blurred feathers. The sounds of battle stopped after barely a minute, but the silence that followed was even more ominous.

He heard a twig snap to his left. His head snapped around and he saw Cor stalking through the underbrush, eyes glued int he direction the squawkers had come from. Sarmauch dared to whistle. Cor eyes darted to Sarmauch in surprise. Then he gave a relaxed nod and the two converged.

"That was fun," Sarmauch whispered.

"Who won?" Cor asked. His left eye was swelling slightly, a product of his earlier brawl.

"How can ya tell in this shit?" Sarmauch answered. "We needed a better plan."

"No kidding." Cor pulled out a small black rectangle from his pocket. He flipped a switch and a dim, web-like proximity mesh appeared on a screen. Several green dots were scattered across the lines. "Well, everybody’s still alive and within twenty meters," he whispered. "We’re missing one, though."

Sarmauch paused for a moment. "Caufer me," he said to Cor. Then he stood up. "Hellau? Will anybaudy wha is still alife please answer?"

There was a brief silence. "Sarmauch?" Shrike's voice answered.

"That's me. Where are ya?"

"Meet back at the trail," Shrike called back.

"Affirmatife," Sarmauch answered.

"That was dumb," Cor said disapprovingly.

"Ya want ta sit with your ass in the grass all day?" Sarmauch said as he headed back for the trail nonchalantly. Cor followed, more cautiously.

The two made their way to the scene of the fistfight where body was lying face down on the ground. The splashes of blood contrasted sharply with the green, soft carpet on which the man slept. Cor scanned the jungle nervously, rifle tightly in hand. He started when Shrike emerged from the sea of green noiselessly.

"Are there any bad guys left?" Shrike asked.

"I gaut ta," Sarmauch said.

"I pegged one," Cor answered, somewhat sheepishly.

"Well, I nailed four," Shrike said, adjusting his hat.

"And I killed two of the motherfuckers," Stang said as she entered the clearing. Dane followed, still clutching both children tightly. Her eyes were swollen and wet from tears and she was still sobbing slightly.

"Where's Gabe?" Shrike asked.

Gabriel clutched tightly to the reins with one hand, gripping his rifle tightly in the other. Branches with greedy hands tried to tear him from the saddle as he bounced in time with the squawker's plodding gait. He held his rifle in front of his face to keep his skin from being shredded from the blades of foliage. He could barely see the fleeting image of the squawker he was pursuing through the shimmering curtain of green before him.

"Come on, fucker," he growled, urging his squawker to move faster.

Ahead he heard a loud splash of water. A few seconds later the jungle suddenly fell away and Gabriel saw the river they had crossed before stretched out before him. His squawker came to an unsteady stop on the loose gravel on the river's banks. Gabriel's quarry was halfway across the river, its squawker struggling through the deep water. It was a young woman with red hair tangled with leaves. She looked back at Gabriel with fear in her eyes and blood from several deep scratches on her face. She turned back to the opposite bank and kicked her squawker hard in its flanks.

Gabriel casually lined her up in his sights. "Bye, bye, baby," he said as he fired. The bolt disappeared in the center of her back with a puff of red. She gasped and arched backward. Her body fell slowly from the saddle into the slow current. Gabriel smiled slightly and turned his squawker away from the river.

He was about to reenter the jungle when he heard thrashing. He turned and saw the woman's corpse engulfed in turbulance. Ribbons of brown, slimy flesh flashed above the frothing water as her body was ripped to pieces. The squawker, which had almost made it to the bank, suddenly shrieked. It was dragged back toward the center of the river in spite of its desparate struggling. Its cries were abruptly cut off as it was dragged under water. A few seconds later the blood-soaked river was quiet again.

"Shrike," Gabriel muttered to himself, "I don't think we're going through that river again."

Mara had returned to the hotel room long enough to dump most of the contents of her backpack on the floor and to unpack her rifle. She gave her gun a cursory examination and threw a only canteen, first-aid kit, her beacon scanner, and extra ammunition in her backpack. She hurried back down to the lobby, out of breath.

"What's the best way to get to Sector twenty-two?" she asked cheerful woman behind the desk.

"You've got to be the fortieth person to ask me that this morning," she said. "Out looking for easy money like everyone else?"

Mara did not answer for a few seconds, scowling. "Sure, just tell me how to get there."

The woman handed Mara a sheet of paper. "These are directions. We decided it would be a whole lot easier to print up a bunch than explain it to everyone individually."

Mara took the paper and scanned it.

"If you're interested, there's a group getting ready to head out that way," the woman said. She pointed to a group of four scruffy-looking men standing in the middle of the lobby, taking a collective inventory of their gear. Mara approached them.

"Are you guys heading to Sector twenty-two?" she asked.

"Fuck off," the largest of them said. "We don't need to split the reward up with anyone else."

"I don't want a part of the cut, I just want to get there," she said.

The men ignored her and concentrated on trying to calculate their water needs.

Mara paused, then reached deep into her pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. The group's collective eyes lit up. "Two thousand credits say that I have a ride with you out to Sector twenty-two. After that, I go my own way."

The large one spoke again, rubbing his chin. "That's a nice amount of money, but after we get the reward, we won't need it so much. What else do you have to offer?"

"Take the cash or leave it, asshole," she said. "I'm sure there'll be plenty of other people who would be happy with less."

"Take it, man," a member of the group urged.

The leader stood silent for a moment, then stepped forward, holding out his hand. "I'm Chit, and I am at your service," he said with a mocking bow. Mara slapped the money into his hand. Chit straightened. "We'll be ready to go in about ten minutes. Don't go anywhere."

"Fine," Mara said. She took a seat near the entrance to the lobby. Hot wind rushed over her every time the door was opened as she stared unflinchingly through the bay windows at the streets outside. She saw several groups of vehicles, ranging from the battered to the elegant drive down the road filled with gun-toting amateur mercenaries.

Fifteen minutes later, she heard someone clear his throat. She looked up and saw that it was one of the men from the group. He was barely out of his teens and had a few lingering blotches of acne on his cheeks.

"Miss?" he said tentatively. "We're just about ready to go." Behind him he saw the rest of the group pulling on their backpacks and heading toward the door.

"You ready to go?" Chit asked as he approached.

Mara stood and motioned them to go through the door first. The sun was masked by a thin layer of cloud, but the air was still oppressively hot.

"Do you think we have enough water, dad?" the young man asked Chit.

"We'll be in and out before you know it," another man answered. "Most of the people going out there probably aren't even hunters."

The group stopped at a brown pickup with a high suspension and deeply grooved off-road tires. Chit tossed his backpack into the bed of the truck. "Todd and I are going in the cab. The rest of you get in the back." He looked at Mara and preempted any compaints she may have had "I said I'd get you there, I didn't say it would be first class accomodations."

Chit and his son climbed into the cab as the other two men and Mara settled in the rear. The two men sat opposite each other, leaning their shoulders on the back of the cab. Mara sat near the end of the truck, keeping her possessions close to her. The truck's engine hummed to life and it lurched out of its parking space. Mara rocked slightly with the vehicle's acceleration. After nearly a half hour of grindingly slow movement through the congested city streets, the pickup finally made it onto Route 17 and beyond city limits. The cool wind washed Mara's sweat away. She looked up at the sky. The clouds were thicker and more ominous now, but the fuzzy silver shape of the sun wis still visible.

"So," one of the men shouted above the wind to Mara, "what do you do for a living?"

Mara did not respond.

"Yoo-hoo," the man said, waving his arm.

"Forget it, man," the other said. "Some people just aren't very social."

The two continued to talk among each other as Mara watched the pavement rush by like a stream of black water. The truck began a steep deceleration. Mara looked forward. The shoulders on both sides of the highway were clogged with vehicles of all shapes and sizes.

"Shit!" one of the men said. "The whole fuckin' city's here!"

"Goddamn it!" the other exclaimed.

Chit slapped the steering wheel in frustration as he tried to find a space large enough to park the truck. Chit pulled straight into a narrow vacuum between cars, leaving the rear of his pickup dangling well into the highway. He climbed out of the cab and pulled his backpack from the bed.

"Aren't you afraid you'll get hit?" one of the men asked.

"Nah," Chit answered. "When we get that reward money, I'll be able to buy a new truck." He looked to where Mara had been sitting. "She didn't waste any time," he observed.

"Weird chick," one of the men noted.

Mara wandered down the narrow patch of grass between the endless column of cars and the perpetual green of the jungle. Hundreds of people had shown up in an attempt to earn the reward money. She saw a family of five heading into the jungle. The smallest child, an eight year old boy with a broad innocent smile and curly gold hair, was barely big enough to hold the rifle he was carrying. The mother and father walked protectively near their children as they disappeared into the woods.

Mara paused to look at a "Wanted" flyer someone had tacked to a tree. The tree's purple blood stained the faces of Shrike and the rest of her former companions. She half-expected to see her own face in the group. Instead, she saw the picture of a man whom she did not recognize associated with her friends. According to the poster, his name was Crage Maldive, a former government operative. She stared at the picture hard for a few moments, and then continued walking. "Must be a fuck-up," she muttered.

She walked past a group of teenagers who were laughing raucously as they finished a large bottle of locally brewed orange vodka and loaded their rifles. Mara heard the clopping of hooves and turned to see seven horses approaching in single file. Their riders sat erect in their saddles and wore stern expressions on their faces. They wore black uniforms with large red sevens on the sleeves. They trotted down the highway without taking notice of the bustling activity around them. Down the road Mara saw a large hovercopter painted in yellow and blue colors with a large red eight emblazoned on the side. A tall man with slick hair and a pinched nose was speaking into a camera. The advance of the column of horses got his attention. He hurried to interview the lead horseman, stretching so that the microphone in his hand could reach the mouth of the rider. As Mara approached, the conversation became audible.

"...will not tolerate such acts of inhumanity," the rider said. "We will find who is responsible for the murder of Mister Flynn and punish them duly."

"What are you going to do with the reward?" the reporter asked.

The rider shrugged. "Donate it to his family, if they are still alive."

"Thanks for your statements, Mister Saavdra, and good luck to you." The reporter turned back to the camera. "That was Eric Saavdra of Demeter's own Seventh Cavalry. With expertise like this coming to bear, it would be difficult to imagine Flynn's murderers escaping justice for long."

"Christ," Mara muttered as she continued along the shoulder. She finally spotted the ramshackle buggy Shrike had rented next to the gutted remains of the charge station. It was boxed into its space by the dozens of other cars that had piled into the parking lot after it. Mara looked once more at the leaden sky then headed into the jungle. "I hope you fucking appreciate this," she said out loud.

Cor dipped a cloth into the water. A large reptilian beast with a bundle of tentacles on the end of its long head caught his eye as it emerged from the tree line downstream. It's tantacles spread out and a slimy pink probiscis slid from its mouth and dipped into the water.

"Better watch out," Gabriel said through puffy, blood-speckled lips as he stood far from the bank. "Wouldn't want that monster who lives in the river to eat your ass."

Cor stood and gave him a hostile look. His left eye had begun to turn purple. He brought the rag over to Dane. "Hold this in his head," he advised.

A large red bump had formed on Mark's head where he had been stung. Dane sat on the bank, cradling his body. Urse leaned up against her, clinging to her arm.

Stang skipped a stone across the water. "Is he going to be alright?"

"I don't know," Cor said. "We don't even know what stung him. It probably won't be fatal, but I'd like to get him to a hospital anyway."

Shrike and Sarmauch emerged from the treeline.

"Did you find out anything?" Stang asked.

Shrike shrugged. "They looked like private citizens by all accounts. No badges, no uniforms, run-of-the-mill ID's..."

"Maybe they were just passing through?" Cor asked.

"Armed like that?" Sarmauch said. "I dant think sa."

"What if they were just game hunters?"

"If they were," Stang said, "they were total assholes and deserved what they got. They were going to fucking shoot Dane's kids."

"Gee," Gabriel said darkly. "That would have been a loss, wouldn't it?"

"Shut the fuck up, asshole!" Stang shot back.

"Knock it off," Shrike ordered, "and keep your damn voices down. We don't want to get shot at again. Shit, we shouldn't even be fucking around on this bank!"

Sarmauch interrupted. "We suspect that the people wha attacked us may hafe been part auf the rebellion, maybe a faction or patralling for gaufernment traps."

"Or they could have been looking for us," Stang said as she sent another stone bouncing across the surface of the water.

"That's paussible, ta."

"Look," Shrike said. "Let's just concentrate on getting out of here alive. We're heading up stream to see if the water gets a little more shallow or crossable. We're staying inside the treeline so we can see the opposite bank but can't be seen so easily. Gabriel, you're pointman. Cor's taking the rear and Stang, you stay about ten meters to our left, inside the jungle. I don't want to get caught short again."

"Gabe, check yar beacon," Sarmauch said conversationally. "We caldn’t get a reading aun ya earlier."

Gabriel checked the black band around his wrist. "Well, it’s on."

Sarmauch pulled out his scanner and flipped it on. "Now ya’re shawing up."

"Might be the trees giving interference," Shrike said. "We’ve got to get moving if we’re going to get ourselves and our passengers out of here in one piece. Let’s get going, people."

Dane had not moved or responded to anything Shrike had said.

"Dane?" Cor asked tentatively.

Dane's eyes were locked on her son as he lied limply in her arms.

"Dane!" Cor said, grabbing her shoulder.

She looked up quickly.

"Come on, we've got to get out of here."

Dane nodded and slowly stood up. Mark began to cry weakly as he was disturbed and Urse groaned tiredly and staggered to her feet.

The group melted into the woods again and slowly moved upstream. The jungle was darker now that the sun was hiding behind a blanket of cloud. Sarmauch volunteered to carry Urse as she staggered from fatigue. Dane refused to relinquish her hold on her son even though she was exhausted herself. The terrain became rocky and sloped uphill as the water sank into a deepening canyon. Shrike helped support Dane as her breath became labored.

"Can't we rest?" she gasped. "Please?"

"No," Shrike said. "If we stop to sleep we may get killed."

"Please..."

"I'm tired, too," Shrike answered. "We've been up all night, but we've got to get out of here alive."

"Maybe we shald rest, for a little while," Sarmauch said. "If we get ta tired, we'll get slauppy and besides, we're a little ta visible in the daylight."

"What if we get ambushed?"

"Shrike," Sarmauch said patiently, "we're about a quarter auf the way back. We'll never make it if we daunt rest."

Shrike was quiet for a moment. "You're right. It must be sleep deprivation screwing up my judgement. As soon as we cross the river we'll find a place to hole up. Deal?"

"Akay," Sarmauch said.

"At least it's not as hot," Shrike noted.

As they climbed the gradually steepening slope, the sound of rushing water became audible through the tangle of wood and foliage. Gabriel ventured out of the treeline to look at the river. He stepped to the edge of the canyon and saw the frothing, bubbling surface ten feet below him. Less than a hundred feet upstream was a waterfall. Beyond the waterfall a tree had fallen across the canyon, forming a bridge. He hurried back to the rest of the group.

"Shrike," he said excitedly. "A tree fell across the river up ahead. We can get across."

"Okay, go check it out to see if its safe. We'll be up soon."

Gabriel rushed to the top of the rocky slope, breathing heavily by the time he reached the fallen tree. The log had been there for some time. The layers of fleshy bark had sloughed off into the water below, baring the tree's white-striped heartwood. Gabriel scanned the trees on the other side of the bank for movement, then ventured out toward the river, his rifle ready. He slipped up to the edge of the canyon and looked down. Barely thirty feet of rushing water separated the shadow of the log from waterfall. Gabriel looked at the bank twenty feet away and without hesitation stepped on the log. He carefully placed one foot in front of the other as he inched his way over the turbulance. The tree creaked ominously and sagged in the middle, but did not break. Almost two minutes later, Gabriel hopped off the log onto the far side of the bank. With a broad smile on his face, he sat on the edge of the ravine, allowing his legs to dangle over ther edge.

A few minutes later, Shrike emerged from the trees. Gabriel waved broadly. Shrike mouthed the words, "You idiot," in response. The others emerged from the the trees in the following minutes.

"Okay, here's how we're going to work this. Dane, I'm going to lead you across. Can you make that?"

Dane nodded.

"Next, Sarmauch's going over with Urse."

"Mommy, I want to stay with you." Urse said fearfully.

"It's alright honey," Dane said reassuringly. "Go across with mister Sarmauch. It'll be alright."

Shrike continued. "And you guys," he said, motioning to Stang and Cor, "come over last."

Shrike cautiously climbed onto the log. A gust of wind blew through the gap in the trees, nearly knocking Shrike from the log. He looked up at the threatening sky. "We have to hurry and get over before the weather gets any worse." He turned around and held his arms out to Dane. "Come on."

Clutching Mark with one arm, Dane took Shrike's hand and carefully climbed on top of the log. She swallowed hard as she looked down to the water and the waterfall.

"Don't look down," Shrike said. "Look at me." He opened his golden eyes wide and pointed to them for emphasis. "We'll just ease across, okay? You're not going to fall. Just take small steps." Shrike coaxed her forward, and the two began making their way across the log. Dane stared into his eyes as instructed and inched forward across the log. When they reached the midway point, something inside the log snapped and it sagged a few more inches and bobbed precariously over the rapids.

"Shrike!" Stang shouted.

Dane and Mark both screamed.

"It's alright!" Shrike shouted, trying to calm her. "It's alright. Look at me, and just keep moving. Okay?"

Dane nodded, her muscles as stiff as a board. Again Shrike coaxed her forward. Shrike finally reached the opposite bank and Dane ran the last few feet. Dane collapsed to her knees, gasping for breath. Shrike put an arm around her and looked at Sarmauch. "I think we'll go across one at a time," he shouted.

"What about Urse?" he shouted back.

"She'll have to make it on her own."

Cor got down on one knee and looked Urse in the eye. "Honey," he said softly, "do you think you can make it across that log by yourself?"

Urse looked at the foreboding waterfall with wide, doleful eyes.

"You can make it, okay? We'll help you get across, okay?"

"Okay," she said softly.

Cor looked up at Sarmauch who had just balanced himself on the tree and was looking back at him. Cor nodded and Sarmauch turned and headed across the log. The log was less stable then before, but he successfully completed the passage.

Cor lifted Urse onto the log. Sarmauch kneeled on the other end and stretched out his pale hand as far as he could. "Are you ready?" Cor asked.

"Yeah," Urse said uncertainly.

"Okay, go," he said, giving her a gentle push.

With her small arms outstretched, Urse began walking slowly across the tree.

"Come on, Urse," Sarmauch said. "You're halfway there."

As Urse crossed the halfway point, a smile began to creep across her face.

Suddenly a puff of red appeared on her shoulder and a piercing crack echoed through the trees an instant later. Urse fell off the log and into the frothing water, shrieking as she struggled against the current..

"URSE!" Dane screamed.

"Jesus!" Cor shouted.

Sarmauch's body was racked by gunshots and he fell off the log onto the ground.

"We're under fire!" Shrike shouted.

A bullet ripped through Stang's stomach as shattered slivers of wood showered Cor.

"Urse!" Dane screamed again as her daughter vanished over the edge of the falls, her screams drowned out by the rushing of the water.

Shrike grabbed her by her shirt and dragged her into the trees as Gabriel shot in the direction from which their attackers fired. On the opposite bank, Cor helped Stang into the trees.

"Run for it!" Shrike shouted.

Mara hit the ground instinctively when she heard shots fired. She lied flat on the dirt, listening to every sound. She ignored the soft thing that squirmed under her belly and scuttled away into the underbrush. After a few seconds, she was certain that the bullets were not directed at her. She pulled herself into a crouchig position and stalked toward the firefight. As she approached the battle, screams and shouts became audible over the gunfire. She crawled over a mangled corpse lying forgotten among the weeds. As she moved closer, the din sputtered and stopped. She could hear people shouting to cease fire. Then she saw a large woman dragging a man who had been shot in the leg. His face was pallid and his head lolled on his shoulders.

Mara dared to allow herself to be seen. "What's going on?" she asked.

"Idiots are blowing each other to hell," the woman said bitterly as she rushed past. "They're so trigger happy they'd shoot their own mothers."

Mara walked closer to the place of the fight. Trees were riddled with bullets, each oozing sap of a different color. She stepped over two bloody bodies with their faces covered with shirts. A bodiless arm lied in the grass, its owner nowhere to be seen. To men rushed past her carrying a limp body covered with blood. She was surrounded by sounds of groans of pain and screaming accusations. The carnage brought a faint smile to her lips.

Blood trickled from Sarmauch's mouth as he stared up at the gray sky with glassy eyes. His breathing was labored and a small stream of blood flowed into the river and disappeared into the white foam. He tried in vain to raise his head when he heard voices.

"I thought you got three, Billy," one voice said.

"Well, one fell into the river, and the other one probably went into the woods to die," the voice named Billy answered. "Gimmie a break."

"A lot of good that does us," a third voice said. "We need proof that we killed them."

"Let's se what we got here," the first voice said. A young man with a thick mustache looked down at Sarmauch's face. "He's a creepy one, alright. Still alive, too." The man flicked Sarmauch’s sunglasses off of his face into the river. Sarmauch squinted against the painfully bright daylight.

"Which one is he?" the third voice said.

"Looks like the one called Sarmauch Mox."

"He's the Nightworlder, alright," Billy said.

Sarmauch raised his arm and tried to speak. They ignored him.

"What about the other ones you hit?" the first voice asked.

"I was too far away to see," Billy said. "I reckon we should go look around in the woods for the other one."

"What about this guy?" the third voice asked. "I sure as hell ain't dragging him all the way back to the car. He'll bleed all over me."

Sarmauch tried hard to speak but only managed a few pitiful gurgles.

"We can cut his head off," the first voice said. "That would be proof."

"That's gross, Fran," Billy said.

"Why don't we just cut off his hands?" the third voice suggested.

"What good would that do?" Billy asked.

"Fingerprints, dumbass."

Sarmauch slowly and stiffly reached into his cloak pocket.

"I still like the head idea," Fran said.

"It's gonna take forever to cut through," Billy complained.

"No it won't. If we just shoot him right in the neck bone, it'll be easy to get through."

Sarmauch pulled something round and heavy out of his cloak.

"Hell," Fran continued, "that in itself might be enough to blow his head clean off, and we can get at least part of the reward."

"It shouldn't be too hard to track the others," the third voice noted.

"If some other guys don't get them first," Billy said.

With a hurculean effort, Sarmauch pulled a pin from the object with his teeth.

"Right," Fran said. "So let's quit fucking around here, take this guy's head, and get going."

"Oh shit," Billy said when he saw the object Sarmauch was holding in his hand.

Sarmauch finally managed to speak through a bloody, vengeful grin. "See ya in hell, motherfuckers."

The explosion earned an anxious glance from Cor. He listened intently for a few moments, then returned his attention to Stang. His hands were covered with her blood as he pressed a crimson lump of gauze on her wound. Stang writhed in pain, her face deathly pale.

"You'll be alright, Stang," Cor said hopefully.

"Fuck you Cor," Stang said between agonized breaths. "I'm dead...and you know it."

"No..."

"Look at me!" she screamed. "My fucking guts are hanging out!"

"We'll get you to a hospital. They'll treat you--"

"I'm...never getting out of this damn jungle...and you know it."

Cor was silent.

Stang grabbed one of his blood-soaked hands. "End it...please....shoot me."

"I can't."

"PLEASE!" Stang screamed as another wave of agony washed over her.

Cor hesitated then stood up. "Alright...alright..." he grabbed his rifle and quickly aimed it at Stang's face. His arms shook as his finger reluctantly wrapped around the trigger.

"Please," Stang said weakly.

Cor fired a single shot into her forehead, sending her pain and memories spattering on the rocks under her head. Cor stood limply beside the corpse, staring down at it as it twitched. He fell down to his knees and covered his face with his hands.

Gabriel and Shrike ran away from the river, dragging Dane and Mark behind them. Dane had collapsed into hysteria, screaming Urse's name. Finally Shrike stopped and grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Listen to me!" he shouted. "Urse's dead! You can't change that! But tou still have Mark! Unless you want us all to die, shut the fuck up!"

Dane bit her lip hard, tears still streaming down her face.

"Alright," Shrike said more softly. "Let's just get out of here, and you can--"

"There they are!" Someone shouted excitedly from in front of them. A tree less than a yard from Shrike's head was struck by a bullet. A half dozen people on squawkers were galloping toward them.

"Fuckers!" Gabriel shouted as his carbine fired thunderously. One of the riders flew off her mount and fell screaming to the ground. He fired again and killed a squawker.

"Gabriel!" Shrike shouted. "Run!"

Gabriel followed as shrike continued up the hill. Bullets cut into the foliage around them. Then Shrike fell with a shout. A bullet had struck him squarely in the knee. His lower leg hung to his body by a thin strip of flesh.

"Shrike!" Dane screamed.

Gabriel began running back to help Shrike.

"Get out of here!" Shrike shouted. "Take Dane out of here! I'll try to hold them off!"

Gabriel paused for a moment, watching Shrike point his carbine at the squawkers as they struggled up the steep terrain. Then he turned and ran, pulling Dane with him.

Shrike fired twice and killed another rider. A bullet struck him in the stomach. Another struck his hat, missing his cranium by a fraction of an inch. He continued to fire as the remaining riders took cover behind an outcropping of rock.

The sound of Shrike's carbine suddenly stopped. Gabriel paused to look back but could see nothing through the trees. He turned and continued running, holding on to Dane's arm. Finally they reached a ragged eight foot tall cliff. Dane collapsed.

"Please...I....need to....rest..." she gasped.

Gabriel collapsed beside her, breathing hard as well.

Mark's small arms were wrapped tight around Dane's neck, but he was not crying.

"I can't believe this," Gabriel hissed. "We're getting cut to pieces and now we don’t even have any money to show for it because that dumb fuck Shrike insisted on keeping the fucking gems on him. Fucking asshole."

Dane looked at him in astonishment and fear.

Several minutes passed, neither Dane nor Gabriel speaking as they rested. A loud crack and the shattering of stone near Gabriel's head destroyed the illusory tranquility.

Gabriel jumped to his feet and climbed the cliff face in a matter of seconds. He began to run away as soon as he reached the top.

"Gabriel!" Dane screamed in desperation.

After a tense few seconds, Gabriel's head reappeared at the lip of the cliff. Another bullet bounced off the rock.

"Help me!" Dane pleaded.

Gabriel hesitated, then lied down on the ground and offered his hand.

"Take Mark," Dane said, "and I can climb up on my own." She held her second child up to Gabriel. The instant he grabbed one of Mark's arms, a bullet ripped through Dane, making a large hole in her chest. A look of surprise filled her face and then she collapsed.

"Shit," Gabriel hissed. He pulled Mark up and, cradling the child in his arms, fled.

Mara looked up at the fragments of gray sky visible through the trees. Bloated water droplets exploded on her face. Thunder rumbled in the distance. "Maybe now they’ll go home," she muttered as cold wind streaked through the trees like a wraith. She looked back down at the scanner in her hand. She had been moving toward a pair of dots that were intermittantly visible through the interference of the trees. Now there was one red dot, and it appeared to be moving toward her. It was Shrike’s beacon. She began to hear joyous shouts and laughter ahead of her. She slowly stalked forward through the green shadows to investigate.

A group of unkempt people and five squawkers came conspicuously through the woods. Two of the squawkers were occupied by corpses. On one, two corpses lied across its back wrapped in white sheets. Except for the blood stains leaking through the fabric, they looked like grubs or maggots. On the other, a body was forced into an upright position by a wooden pole tied down its back, and its head rolled lazily on its shoulders. It was too far away for Mara to see any facial features.

"You can all go home!" One of the riders shouted. "We got the fucker! We got mister Shrike!"

Mara froze. She pulled her rifle close to her body as her eyes narrowed. Thunder again rumbled through the woods. The riders came nearer and the features of the body became more apparant. Mara could see the naked scalp, the bronzed features, and the heavy-set build. The corpse’s golden eyes were glassy and half-closed, but they screamed a name: Shrike.

Tears began rolling down Mara’s face. She clenched her teeth hard and squeezed her rifle. She crouched motionless in the undergrowth until the jovial group was barely two yards from her. Then she jumped up, rifle ready.

"Say your prayers, motherfuckers!" she screamed as she fired. Only one of the group even managed to get a hand on his gun before a bolt scattered shards of his skull over the ground. The panicked squawkers began to stampede away, and Mara shot the one bearing Shrike through the head. The creature shrieked and fell heavily to the ground, its feet kicking spasmodically.

She jumped over the dying bird and examined Shrike. His clothes were soaked with blood that was beginning to be diluted by the increasingly heavy rain. His body had been riddled with bullets. Mara slumped to the ground. "Oh, Shrike," she whispered.

One of the riders moaned weakly. Mara jumped to her feet and walked angrily toward the wounded bounty hunter. It was an older woman with a large body and heavy jowels. Her heavy hands were covered with her own blood from a wound in her stomach.

"You bitch," she gasped. "We killed him, we should get the bounty."

Mara’s eyes narrowed. "You think this is about money? To you he was a bounty, a get-rich-quick opportunity. To me he was a friend."

"You bitch," the woman repeated.

Mara pointed her rifle at the woman’s face. "What happened to the rest of them?"

"Fuck you," the woman said. "Go ahead and kill me."

"You misunderstand me," Mara said evenly. "I’ll shoot you if you cooperate. If you don’t, I’ll leave you here."

The woman’s confident face quivered.

"If you’re lucky," Mara said, "you’ll die before the predators come, but I doubt it. You can live for days with a wound like that. You’ve lived here longer then I have, so you probably have a better idea of the kinds of things that would just love to skeletonize a fat old cow like you."

"You bitch," the woman said again, fear in her eyes.

"You’ve said that already," Mara said. "Tell me what happened to the people with him, or I walk."

The woman did not answer.

"Have it your way," Mara said as she turned away.

"Wait!" the woman called. "I’ll tell you."

Mara turned back to her. "Well? Let’s have it."

The woman blinked slowly. Tears began to trickle from the corners of her eyes. "They got away, running upstream along the river a few K’s from here."

"How many?"

"We only saw a man and a woman with him, but we figure since we had Shrike, we didn’t have to go after the small fish."

"Thank you," Mara said.

Without another word, she shot the woman in the head and turned away. She knelt on the damp ground next to Shrike’s body. She noticed a bulge under his shirt, She cautiously pulled back his bloodied clothing and pulled out the jewel pouch. She gripped it tightly, tears welling up in her eyes. "Fuck," she said quietly. "You’d want me to put these to good use, wouldn’t you, you bastard?" she said to the corpse. "Fine then," she continued unevenly, as she hesitantly put the pouch in her pocket. "I’ll give them to someone who needs them."

Mara heard the sound of peopel approaching through the forest. She quickly pulled a thermite grenade from her pocket and yanked out the pin. She placed the small metal oval on Shrike’s chest.

"You deserve better," she said. She stood up and dashed into the woods. Her run gradually slowed to a walk after putting a safe distance between herself and the grenade. She turned around, clutching the crucifix around her neck tightly. She squinted as the grenade exploded, blanketing the area with fire. She looked pensively at the silver crucifix in her hand. After a few seconds, she turned and walked away.

It began to rain more harshly.

"This is a pain in the ass, Rod," the man complained, wiping the water from his eyes. "Can’t we call it quits?"

"Look, dipshit," Rod said bitterly. "If you don’t like it, you can go the fuck home."

"I would, but you’re the one with the fucking map!" The man was thinly built and his whispy brown hair was plastered to his scalp by the rain. Rod was taller and more muscular, with bristly black hair on his arms. The third member of the group was a woman with long blond hair. All three were wearing drenched fatigues and carrying cheap rifles.

"Fine!" Rod bellowed, throwing battered sheet of paper at him. "Take the fucking map!"

"Calm down, honey," The woman said, her eyes somewhat glassy.

"He’s driving me up the fucking wall!"

"Maybe you just need another dose of candy," She said, pulling small white plastic bottle from her pocket.

Rod looked at it for a moment and then took it from her hand. He put the thin opening of the bottle in his nose and inhaled deeply. He stumbled backward with a slight grown. The woman took the bottle from him and gave it to the thin man.

"This will make you feel better, Jimmy" she said smoothly.

"Always has," Jimmy said. As he shifted the rifle in his hands to accept the bottle, one of his fingers accidentally depressed the trigger. The sound of the shot made them all jump. The sound of of the gun was followed an instant later by a raspy screeching.

"What the fuck is that?" Jimmy whispered.

"I...don’t know," The woman said, her face pale.

Holding his rifle tightly, Jimmy stalked forward through the weeds. "Cover me, Trilly," he said fearfully.

"Sure," Trilly said. "Stay here, Rod."

"Okay," Rod said, his eyes following the rain with facination.

Jimmy saw something moving on the ground. He approached carefully and slowly. When he saw what it was, he stood up straight. "Sweet Screaming Jesus," he said.

"What is it?" Trilly asked behind him.

"You’re not going to believe this," Jimmy said, mixed emotions on his face. "I just bagged a crabbie."

The creature was lying on its side. Pearls of water glistened on its exoskeleton as it shuddered. Its four legs moved uselessly, as if it was writhing in pain. The bullet had struck it in the shoulder, tearing one of its large, pincered arms free of its body. Pale green from the wound blood mixed with the small rivers of water the rain had created. The impact of the bullet had sent cracks through its carapace. The creature opened the mouth on its chest and released a pained, rustling hiss. As it worked its mandibles, one of the fissures opened and more blood erupted through the crack. Its smaller arms traced the jagged lines of the cracks in its skin.

"Oh my God," Trilly said, her hand over her mouth.

"Nobody's ever done this before, have they?" Jimmy asked.

Trilly shook her head as she slowly sank into a kneeling position, her eyes wide.

"Do you think this will be worth anything?"

"How can you say that?" Trilly shot back. "These creatures are the guardians of the jungle! They're living, feeling beings!"

"Aw, get a clue," Jimmy said scornfully. "They're bugs. And besides, I didn't mean to hit it anyway, but we might as well profit from luck."

With its one good arm, the crabbie pushed its thorax off the ground. Blood spurted from the fissures in its carapace. As Jimmy and Trilly watched, the black mound betwen its shoulders began to swell. Filaments began spreading outward, waving gently in the air.

"What's it doing?" Jimmy asked.

"I don't--"

A scream from Rod stopped Trilly's thought. The two ran to where they had left him and found him lying in a puddle, clutching his shoulder.

Trilly was at his side in an instant. "What's wrong, honey?" she said fearfully. "What's the matter?"

Jimmy stood farther back, watching intently.

"My arm!" Rod screamed. "They shot me! I'm dying!"

"Let me see!" Trilly said as forcefully as her thin voice would allow. She looked back at Jimmy. "Help me, for God's sake!"

Jimmy hesitated and then helped Trilly wrest Rod's arm from his shoulder. There was no blood, no wound.

"Aw, he's just having a bad trip," Jimmy said disgustedly.

"I'm dying! There's blood everywhere!"

"No your not!" Trilly screamed, tears coming to her eyes.

"It was the soft ones!" Rod cried. "They killed me!"

"What?" Jimmy said incredulously.

"They killed...me..." Rod said weakly. He slumped to the ground,

"Rod!" Trilly screamed, trying to pull him back up.

Jimmy shook his head and walked back to the crabby.

Rod's eyes flicked open. He stiffly stood up, rifle in hand.

"In the name of Mahkra," he said in a deep voice, "the soft ones will pay."

"Rod?" Trilly said uncertainly.

Rod looked at her indifferently and picked up his rifle.

"Well," Jimmy said as he trudged through the brush, "that crabby's dead. I say we-" His sentence was cut off my a bullet through his throat.

"Rod!" Trilly screamed as Jimmy fell to the ground.

Rod then pointed the rifle on her and shot her in the chest. "They'll all pay," he said as he turned the rifle around and nestled the end of the barrel under his chin.

Gabriel stumbled down the slippery, rocky slope. He clutched Mark under one arm as the child screamed. With his free arm, Gabriel shielded his eyes from the heavy drops of rain. He finally came to a large boulder and collapsed beside it. His breath was heavy and raspy and shot from his mouth in puffs of white. He looked down at Mark, as if noticing for the first time that he was crying.

"Shut...the fuck up...you little brat," he scolded between breaths, "or you'll lead them...right to us!"

Mark continued to bawl.

"What the fuck's...the matter with you?"

"I want my mommy!" Mark cried.

"Well you aren't going to get your fucking mommy," Gabriel said, "because your fucking mommy was capped by bounty hunters!" Then Gabriel grabbed Mark's throat. "And the same thing is going to happen to us if you don't shut the fuck up!"

The threat began Mark's crying anew.

"Fuck this," Gabriel said. "I'm cold and I'm wet, but I don't want to be dead. Have a nice life, you ungrateful little shit." With that he stood up and walked briskly away.

Mark sat alone in the rain, crying.

Cor scrabbled over a petrified lava flow that was falling to the relentless assault of the forest as plants took root in the cracks in the rock. Cor's fingers were red and his teeth chattered as the wind and the rain drove against his body. He was wearing a dark green poncho, but the rain dripped down his neck and soaked his clothing. He was climbing to the apex of a small rocky mound and no longer had the trees to protect him from the elements.

He finally made it to the top. He had to lean heavily against the wind to avoid falling from the peak. With a hand shielding his eyes, he surveyed the jungle around him. The top of the mountain was not far above the treeline, but it did provide a good panorama. The sky was dark gray and he could see lightning bolts hurtling to the ground nearby. The wind and rain greatly reduced visibility and all he could see was an unending sea of green. The river that had been a barrier earlier was barely discernible as a dark crack among the trees. On the other side of the mountain, he could barely make out what looked like a clearing with smoke rising from the center. Cor took out his scanner, trying to shield the screen from the driving rain. Two green lights blinked feebly as the scanner struggled to receive them through the rain. The closest was over three kilometers away.

"At least I’m not the last one," he said out loud.

Cor looked around one more time and began down the mountain in the direction of the closest dot He climbed down as carefully as numb fingers would allow. He was half way down the slope when a rock suddenly gave way beneath his foot. He desperately clawed for a handhold on the slippery slope but found none. He rolled down the mountain, tumbling over rocks and boulders. He finally came to a stop, lying on his back on a slab of moss-carpeted rock. Rain droplets splashed on his face, washing some of the blood away. He made a few gutteral noises and his eyes slowly closed.

Mara clenched her teeth hard to keep them from chattering. Rivulets of water dangled loosely from the barrel of her rifle, shuddering as she advanced through the damp undergrowth. The irregular drumming of the rain drops masked the sound of her movement as she stalked through the foliage.

The soft curtain of the resonance of the falling rain was shredded by a burst of screams and gunfire in front of her. Mara stopped, staring hard through the plants. She caught glimpses of shapes moving in the tiny windows through the forest, but nothing more. A few seconds later there was only the sound of the rain again.

Mara cautiously stalked through the underbrush to see what had happened. After moving silently for several yards, she spotted a man standing next to a tree, his head hanging low. She watched him for a moment. He did not move. Then Mara became aware that some of the drops of ran splashing on her face were warm. She absent mindedly touched her fingers to the warm droplets. Her fingertips were red with blood. Mara looked above her and saw a corpse hanging by its feet six feet above her, looking down with an agonized, gnarled expression with its hands dangling downward as if reaching for help. A steaming droplet of blood had formed on the tip of its nose, poised to drop on her.

Mara stifled a cry and fell backwards into the bushes. She hurridly looked back at the man by the tree. He had not moved. Rifle ready, Mara stalked toward him. She saw that had been impaled with a short metal rod, pinning his body to the tree. His rifle lied on the ground next to him.

Then something hit the ground behind her. Mara spun around, to see a seven-foot tall insectoid creature standing in front of her. It was clad with black, blood-spattered armor with a bright crimson shape that she could not quite make out emblazoned on the front. Its mandibles chattered excitedly through a slot in the armor. Before Mara could bring her rifle to bear, the creature slapped it out of her hands with a powerful swat of one of its pincers. With its other pincer, it grabbed her by the throat and lifted her off the ground. Mara kicked viciously at its torso, aiming blindly for its mandibles. The creature’s smaller arms grabbed her pants legs and reduced the force of her blows. Mara pulled one hand away form the futile task of prying open the pincer around her throat and fumbled for the pistol in her pocket. She whipped out the pistol but before she could aim it, the creature caught her wrist with its free claw and pointed it away. Then it began applying pressure. Mara grimaced as she fired the pistol several times into the ground. Blood began to seep from underneath the pincer. Mara opened her mouth in a mute shout of pain as her fingers reluctantly released their grip on the pistol.

"You fucker," she hissed defiantly at the creature. "You fucker."

A black mound began to rise through a round hole in the armor between the creature's shoulders. The mound slowly extended, unfolding a host of thin filaments. The fibers waved gently in the air, a few extending toward Mara and gently caressing her reddening face as she struggled for breath.

Suddenly the creature dropped her, sending her sprawling on the ground. Mara gasped, holding her throat. Her neck was a furious shade of red where the creature had grasped her. She lied on the wet ground for several seconds, breathing heavily. When she got the strength to raise herself up and look around, the creature was gone. She laboriously sat up, favoring her bleeding wrist. She pulled of her backpack and retrieved a first aid kit. Sitting hunched over so that the rain would not get into the little metal box, she carefully wrapped her wrist in gauze. She returned the kit to her box and stood unsteadily. She looked up at the canopy of green above her.

"Please, God," she said, "gimmie a fucking break, will you?"

Gabriel huddled in the hollow of a tree. The air in the tree smelled rotten but it was warmer and dryer than the outside. Nevertheless, Gabriel's teeth chattered and he shivered uncontrollably. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them to support his head. His attempt to sleep was stopped by the sound of approaching voices.

"The trail leads this way," a voice said.

"If we don't find 'em soon, let's call it quits, alright?" another voice complained.

Some low muttering followed and then there was silence. Gabriel turned his head slightly so that he could peer over his folded arms with one eye. Through the leaves and rain, he saw a clean-shaven man with a hooded camouflage jumpsuit trudging through the weeds. He was standing erect with his rifle carelessly dangling at the ends of tired arms. Two other men followed him. The first man stopped barely thirty feet from Gabriel.

"Where he'd go now, mister tracker master?" One of the men asked sarcastically.

The leader looked down at the ground, his eyes scanning the foliage. "He went that way," he said, pointing toward the hollow Gabriel had chosen as shelter.

"Oh, fuck," Gabriel hissed. He awkwardly picked up his rifle. He quickly realized that it was impossible to aim his rifle in such cramped quarters. He paused, watching the men approached. He prepared himself to spring out of the hollow when he saw somethingthe color of wet metal slide behind the advancing bounty hunters..

The thing silently approached to withing a few yards of the group of men, with a blur of steel, decapitated one of them. A split second later the armor-clad creature impaled the other man from behind. The man looked down at the metal point protruding from his chest with surprise. The leader turned in time to watch the creature withdraw its long blade and his companion crumple to the ground. He shouted something and raised his rifle at the creature. The bundle of filaments between the insect's shoulders suddenly spread. The man froze. Gabriel could hear him making frightened noises as the creature walked up to him casually. The thing raised its sword and cleaved the man's head in half. As suddenly as it had appeared, the creature vanished back into the woods.

Gabriel was shaking from fear as well as cold. "Holy fuck," he whispered over and over.

In spite of his terror, exhaustion quickly overtook his fear and he fell into a deep sleep.

Mara stumbled through the forest, holding her rifle in one hand as she kept her wounded wrist close to her body. Her bandage was soaked by rain and blood. She staggered forward through the jungle, eyes half closed.

"Hold it!" an electronic-sounding voice behind her suddenly shouted. "Put your hands up now!"

Mara stopped unsteadily. She dropped her rifle and slowly raised her hands.

"Now turn around!" the voice said authoritively.

She slowly turned around. A figure in black, glistening body armor was pointing a large rifle at her. The helmet of the body armor completely enclosed the wearer's face. Only a pair of angry eyes were visible through a thin slit of transparant material. The eyes widened when they saw Mara's face.

"Wh--where did you get those?" the voice asked urgently.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Mara asked with an annoyed tone. "If you're going to kill me just get it over with." She turned her face skyward, closing her eyes against the rain.

"I'm not--hold on," the voice said. The figure pulled off its helmet and long raven hair cascaded from its cramped confines. The wearer of the armor was a woman with a noble face and deep blue eyes. "I'm not going to shoot you, not now."

"That's good to know," Mara said quietly.

"Were did you get those marks?" The woman asked.

Mara looked at the woman quizzically. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

The woman took a step forward and pointed at Mara's face. "Those marks, where did you get them?"

Mara wiped her face and looked at her hand. A thin, vaguely luminous jelly was on her fingers. Her face was streaked with shining trails where the creature had stroked her face with its tendirls. "I don't...it must have been that thing that attacked me."

"And it let you go?" the woman asked expectantly.

Mara paused. "Yeah, after almost killing me."

The woman grabbed Mara's arm and began to lead her through the forest. "Come on, let's get out of this rain," she said.

Mara resisted weakly, leaning over to pick up her rifle as she was dragged off. "Where the fuck are you taking me?"

The woman looked back at her. "Home. If you're good enough for the crabbies, you're good enough for me."

Mara allowed herself to be led through the jungle. After walking for nearly a quarter mile, another figure in similar body armor appeared from the trees. The figure pulled up his visor revealing a gruff, masculine face with a jagged scar over his left eye.

"Who's this?" he asked the woman suspiciously.

"Um...good question. What's your name?"

"M--Mara."

"I'm Jack," the man said matter-of-factly, "and this is Drella. Now do you mind telling us what you're doing all the way out here in the jungle?"

"Take it easy, Jack," Drella said. "The crabbies think she's okay."

"I can see that," Jack answered with a hint of condescension in his voice, "but just because they like someone doesn't mean we should let them in."

"Look at her," Drella said, motioning to Mara's exhausted and battered figure. "I doubt that she'll be any kind of threat."

"Not at this second, but what about later?" Jack said.

"Look," Mara interrupted. "I don't give a flying fuck about your little secrets, just either point me to the way out of here or shoot me. I don't fucking care."

The two looked at her for a moment. Then Drella took her arm. "I'm taking her in," she said, looking Jack in the eye. "We'll let Omec decide if I made the right decision."

"Have it your way," Jack said, stepping back to allow them to pass.

"So what are you in here for?" Drella asked as they trudged through the foliage. "Are you another one of those damn bounty hunters looking for those assassins?"

"No," Mara said, a tint of bitterness in her exhausted voice. "Those 'assassins' are my friends and I'm trying to find them before they get killed by those damn bounty hunters."

"I hope they're not good friends," Drella said.

"Why?"

"Well," she said slowly, "for whatever reason somebody pissed off the crabbies. Anybody in this area is probably going to get killed."

"Jesus," Mara said, closing her eyes tightly and reflexively clutching the crucifix around her neck tightly.

"We're here," Drella announced.

Mara looked up from the ground to see a clearing filled with a few dozen tightly packed houses. Wooden planks covered the soupy mud on the narrow avenues between the homes. The houses themselves were shaped like domes. They were covered with animal skins and were peppered with small plants reaching skyward. Smoke drifted skyward from tiny holes in the center of each dome. On the far side of the settlement there was a large windswept field. Mara paused at the uninhibited view of the gray sky.

"Come on," Drella said, motioning her forward.

Mara stepped uncertainly out of the jungle and onto the planks. The rain pelting her had changed from the heavy, engorged drops that the leaves did not have the strength to hold to tiny rivulets fresh from the clouds. No one else was visible in the drenched settlement.

Drella led Mara to one of the domes and pushed aside the thick skin covering the entrance. "Mom," she said, "we've got a visitor." Drella held the entranceway open and motioned Mara to enter. Too exhausted to protest, Mara ducked down through the short entrance. Except for a fire burning near the center of the dome, there was no light in the hut. Mara blinked several times before she saw a large, bright-eyed woman watching her intently.

"Oh dear," the Drella's mother said.

Drella entered behind Mara. "I found her wandering around on the east side," she said. "She had a run in with the crabbies, but they let her go."

Drella's mother took Mara's hands and gently pulled her toward a fur laid out on the floor. "Come, sit by the fire," she urged. "You're freezing."

Mara set heavily down on the soft furs, staring into the fire blankly. A shiver ran through her body.

"Drella," the mother said, "go get Omec."

"I will," Drella said as she disappeared out the doorway.

"You stay right here and warm up," Drella's mother said. "I'll go get you something to eat." She sprang up and followed Drella out the door.

Mara stared at the fire for a few more seconds. Then, moving slowly and deliberately, she unwrapped her wrist and discarded the soaked, pink-stained gauze. She painfully removed her boots. The fire hissed indignantly the water collected in the boots found its way into the embers. Then she fell back and in seconds had slipped into slumber.

Gabriel jerked awake. He looked out the mouth of the hollow into the black forest. Night had fallen while he slept. Something was moving in the underbrush a few yards away. He listened to the wet sound of flesh tearing and a crunching noise. Gabriel fumbled for his light intensifying goggles, awkwardly pullin ghtem out of his back pack. He put them on and sat, motionless, listening to the feast and allowing hs eyes to adjust. Rifle in hand, he finally began to climb out of the cramped hollow. His knees crackled painfully and he gritted his teeth hard. He stood erect stiffly and listened. The sound of the eating had stopped. He looked up at the sky. One of Verdencia's moons was peeking through the cloud cover, shedding a dim, ghostly yellow light over the forest floor. He looked back at the direction of the feeding, but saw nothing but shadows.

He kept his rifle pointed in the direction the noises had come from as he backed away. Soon he concentrated on picking his way through the tangled undergrowth in the darkness. The night air was warmer than the bone-chilling temperatures the storm had brought. The clouds were quickly swept from the sky and the infinite stars lent their feeble light to the planet. Gabriel stalked alone through the nocturnal jungle. He periodically checked his beacon scanner, and saw no sign of his companions.

After nearly an hour of walking, a humming began to resonate through the woods. Gabriel froze. The humming increased as an orange glow began to illuminate the jungle. The crackling sound of fire accompanied the hum. Gabriel stopped for a moment, then slowly began moving toward the light. As he approached the humming grew louder and the light became more intense. Gabriel swallowed hard and pressed forward. He was eventually forced to take off his goggles because of the intensity of the light.

Finally he could see a massive fire throught the trees as the humming reverberated through the ground. Gabriel crouched and stalked forward until he was at the edge of the clearing. He saw dozens of crabbies standing around the fire, swaying in unison. Each was wearing well-crafted, shining armor and holding bladed weapons of various shapes and sizes. The blaze illuminated a twenty foot tall, glittering statue. The flickering light made it difficult for Gabriel to make out details, but it was definitely a figure of a woman.

A human scream pulled Gabriel’s attention away from the statue. He watched as a pair of crabbies dragged a struggling man into the clearing and tied him to a post. Another crabbie, bigger than the rest, approached to within a few yards of the man. It was holding a bizarre, metal object in its smaller arms that was unlike anything Gabriel had ever seen before. The crabby pointed the instrument at the man and took aim. There was a flash and a thunderclap, and suddenly a large chunk of flesh was torn from the man’s side. As he screamed in terror and pain, the crabby held the smoking weapon in the air with its pinchers and the humming became a cacaphony of victorious shrieks.

Gabriel clenched his teeth and dared to take one of his hands from his rifle to cover one of his ears. He turned and began to run through the woods, ignoring the weeds that were lashing at his face and the roots that were trying to trip him.

Mara's eyelids fluttered open. She sat up quickly and looked around. Sitting on the other side of the healthy fire was a man with long white hair and a peppered beard. His skin hung loosely from his face and he wore a stern expression.

"Who are you?" Mara sked. "Where am I?"

"I am Omec," the man said flatly. "You are at a place that's called many different things. I know that your name is Mara and that you are here looking for friends that appear to have murdered Tom Flynn."

"They didn't murder him!" Mara nearly shouted. Then she added more quietly, "They couldn't have."

"Why not?"

"The guy in charge--Baker was his name--hired them to bring him in. That's all."

"So the government hired them?" Omec asked.

Mara nodded. "But they said they wanted Flynn alive. Baker was very explicit about that."

"Are you certain that your friends didn't murder him and kidnap his family?"

"Shrike, our boss, may have been an asshole sometimes," Mara said, "but he took pains to see that a job was done right. He would not have shot Flynn unless he had to."

"What about his daughter-in-law and grandchildren?"

Mara shrugged. "I don't know."

"How do you even know they're still alive?" Omec asked.

"I know that Shrike is dead. The others may be alive and I've got to try."

Omec nodded an was silent.

"What time is it?" Mara sked.

"It's almost morning. You slept a long time."

Mara rubbed her swollen wrist. "I have to find them."

Omec shook his head. "I'm afraid that with all probability your friends are dead. If the scores of bounty hunters don't get them, the crabbies will."

"Crabbies?"

"The creature that attacked you was a crabby," Omec said. "They own these woods and will only tolerate so much."

"I'll take my chances," Mara said as she began putting on her boots.

"Your dedication to your friends is admirable, but unnecessary," Omec said. "If your friends are still alive, we have a better chance of finding them than you do. I have sent out patrols to search the jungle in this area. Please, accept our hospitality and allow yourself to rest until things settle down."

"Why are your people safer than mine?" Mara asked cynically.

"We have lived among the crabbies for years and they have grown to accept us. I can't say that I'm not a little worried for them, though. I don't think the crabbies have ever been this angry before."

"So what are you, a crabby expert?"

Omec shrugged. "I suppose you could say that. I know more about them than anyone else, but that, admittedly, is not very much. I’ve learned to listen to their minds and to understand them."

"Oh, give me a fucking break," Mara said.

Omec scowled at her. His voice began to sound angry. "They are somewhat telepathic. Through the use of the drug commonly called ‘zap’, I can intercept thier communication and feel what they are feeling. They learn from our actions and they absorb our technological knowledge. They emulate our personalities and they imitate our mindsets. It is unfortunate that their first template for behavior was the person they called Mahkra."

"Mahkra? Wasn't she the person who took down Strak?"

"Yes. A very brave woman, but utterly amoral and ruthlessly violent. I think that a civilization in its infancy like this one needs a better role model, don't you?"

"I wouldn't know," Mara said, standing. "I have to find my friends."

Omec stood stiffly. "Wait. At least eat a good meal before you leave, so you can see how we live. Maybe you'll decide you like it here."

Mara shook her head. "No. I’m leaving now. I’ll take my chances in the jungle, thank you very much."

Omec sighed heavily. "Surely you realize that you’ll never find your friends in this jungle."

Mara stood up. "I don’t care."

Without another word, Omec led her outside. Drella was standing guard by the entrance. She was wearing the same black body armor she had been wearing the day before, but without the helmet. "Drella, take Mara back to where you found her. Walk with her as far as the outer perimeter." He gave Mara a wry smile. "This place is the future. The bloody screaming madness of our race will lead to its own destruction sooner or later. If you ever tire of the world outside, you’re always welcome here."

"Thanks," Mara said, turning away and walking toward the jungle. "Fuckin’ weirdos," she muttered.

Cor’s eyes opened slowly. His battered brain sluggishly registered that he was staring into a healthy crackling fire. Several seconds later he bolted upright, looking around himself fervently. He was inside a cave, lying on a bare rock floor. The night outside was begining to fade, but it was still to dark to see. His clothing was still soaked, but the air inside the cave was warm. His backpack was lying next to him, but he did not see his rifle.

"Awake, are we?" a voice said.

Cor’s head spun around to the figure of a man who had been sitting motionlessly in the shadow. "Who are you?" Cor demanded.

The man stood up and stepped forward confidently. He was tall and lean, with short brown hair and a smooth demeanor. His face seemed deathly pale, though, and there was a slight uneveness in his step. "My name’s Crage. Crage Maldive. And you?"

Cor hesitated. He stroked the black bristles that were forming a beard on his chin. "Cor."

Crage waited as if expecting Cor to give his last name, then shrugged. "Good enough." Crage kneeled across the fire from Cor, looking him in the eye. "You’re a lucky man, mister Cor. You took a nasty fall down that hill. How do you feel?"

Cor grimaced. "I’ve been better."

"You’re lucky. You could have died out there, if not from the fall, then from the all the happy little jungle creatures. You’re damn lucky I happened by. Nice shiner, by the way."

Cor absent-mindedly touched his blackened eye. "That’s a gift from a friend."

"Figured as much. People don’t usually get black eyes from falling down mountains."

"If you don’t mind me asking," Cor said darkly, "who the fuck are you?"

Crage was silent for a moment. "I’ll give you a hint. You were all at Tom Flynn’s house. That short guy had just handcuffed him. He was saying something when poof, his head splatters all over that Nightworlder. Then you guys run into the house..."

Cor’s eyes widened and his body tensed as Crage told his story. "You?!"

Crage grinned. "I was the best shot in my class."

"You son of a bitch!" Cor said as he awkwardly climbed to his feet.

Crage whipped out a pistol and pointed it at Cage’s head. "Hey hey hey, now, mister Cor. I didn’t carry your heavy ass into my little cave so I could shoot you. Now sit your ass down and we’ll talk and nobody else has to die."

Cor stood motionless for a moment, then slowly sat back down.

"Good boy," Crage said, holstering his pistol. "I don’t know why you’re so mad at me. I was just doing a job just like you were."

"You got my friends killed," Cor said.

"Wrong, buddy-boy," Crage said soberly. "The person who killed your friends is the same person who fucked me over."

"And who might that be?"

Crage pulled a damp piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Cor. Cor opened it carefully and saw a wanted poster with all of his groups’s faces, including Crage.

"That fuck Baker lumped me in with you guys," Crage said, "and then set the whole planet after us by putting a huge bounty on our heads. Your job was to capture Flynn. You didn’t question it. My job was to kill him when he was in your custody. I didn’t question it. We’re the same, you and I."

"We’re not the same," Cor hissed. "You’re a murderer."

"And you’re not? I don’t know much about you, but I’ll reckon that your hands aren’t bloodless. How many people have you killed, mister Cor?"

"Only the ones who deserved it."

"Who says they deserved? Did they deserve it because you could make a buck off it? Did they deserve it because the offended some sensibility of yours? I’m sure they didn’t think they deserved it."

"Fuck you," Cor said bitterly.

"Fine," Crage said in resignation, the dancing flame making his pale face look ghostly. "You won’t take that argument, how about this one. We both have the same enemy: Baker."

Cor was silent.

"Baker was the fucker who set us all up," Crage continued. "He recruited me personally and gave me a big sack of gems to assassinate an enemy of the state, as he called Flynn. Hell, I’m in the government security forces, so I figured, ‘why not?’ What about you guys?"

"I didn’t meet him," Cor said slowly. "He did give us a bag of gems, though."

"See?" Crage said as he pulled a blue cigarette from a water-proof container and lit it. "His plan was to have some two-bit mercenary group take the public heat from it. And frankly, mister Cor, I thought nothing of setting you guys up. No one would miss a merc group and if you were any good, you’d get away. But the fact that Baker set me up, too, and called out the big guns so quickly makes me think he’s got something else up his sleeve." He paused to take a long drag from the cigarette.

"Like what?" Cor asked bitterly.

"To make himself look good, I suppose. To eliminate an enemy and everyone who knew the truth. He’s a power mad son of a bitch, that Baker guy. He’s got to go down. And now the fuckin’ crabbies are on the rampage, there’s no telling what he’ll get from all this."

"What’s on the rampage?" Cor asked.

Crage blew a funnel of smoke into the air. "The crabbies, the bug-men who run around in the woods. They’ve been slaughtering all the bounty-hunters and everybody else they could get their claws on."

"Why?"

Crage shrugged. "Who fuckin’ knows? Baker’ll probably blame it all on the rebels and declare martial law or something."

There was a silence as Cor thought and Crage smoked.

"You know what really sucks?" Cage said, staring into space. "I was going to get married in a couple of months. I figured I could buy one fuck of a honeymoon with all that cash. I shoulda fuckin’ known better." He rubbed his hands roughly through his hair. "I shoulda known better."

"What do we do now?" Cor asked.

Crage looked him in the eyes. "We die."

"Excuse me?"

"I’m dead already," Crage said, rolling up his pant leg. On his calf was a puncture wound that was weeping a pale green liquid. "I got nailed by a anthus. The venom’s already all through my system and I’m almost out of anti-venin. I’ll be dead inside twenty-four hours. I’ll tell you what, I never in a million years thought it would have ended this way, dying in a cave miles from nowhere..."

"What about me?"

Crage shrugged. "Your chances of making it out of the jungle, past the crabbies, the anthi, the thrashers, and all that fun stuff are just about zero."

"If I’m going to die anyway, why did you even help me in the first place?"

Crage smirked. "I guess I just couldn’t stand the irony. That, and I wanted to talk to someone before I died."

Cor stood up. "I’ve got the fucking try. I can’t just sit here and starve to death."

"Suit yourself," Crage said. He pulled out his pistol and a map and handed them to Cor. "You’ll need these, I suspect."

"What happened to my rifle?" Cor asked, pocketing the pistol.

"I didn’t see any rifle when I picked you up. It must have gotten lost." The two shook hands. "It’s been nice meeting you, mister Cor. I wish it could have been under better circumstances."

Cor was silent for a moment. "Me, too."

"Good luck to ya," Crage said as Cor walked out of the cave into the feeble daylight. "Make that fucker pay." Crage watched Cor disappear into the underbrush before returning to the cave. He sat down heavily next to the fire and stared into the embers.

Gabriel moved silently through the jungle. His body was tense and his eyes darted back and forth across the ocean of green surrounding him. "I'm not gonna die now," he whispered to himself. "I’m lost and I’m alone, but I’m gonna make it. Gonna get outta this jungle, gonna get offa this world, gonna get laid, I'm gonna get outta here."

He pulled out his scanner and checked it almost automatically. He glanced down at it and froze. The machine registered a single, flickering green dot on the edge of its range. "Sweet screaming Jesus," he said. He began trotting in the direction of the dot, grinning excitedly. After several minutes, he slowed to a walk. The source of the beacon was only a few meters away. He peered into the foliage, watching for any sign of movement.

Cor stepped out from behind a tree trunk, also smiling broadly. When they made eye contact, both of their smiles faded.

"Oh shit," Gabriel said, "it’s you."

"Who did you expect?" Cor asked coldly.

Gabriel paused for a moment. "I don’t know. Stang, maybe?"

"Stang’s dead," Cor said, reluctantly walking toward Gabriel.

"Bummer. And I never even got to fuck her."

"Where’s Shrike?"

"He’s dead, too," Gabriel said. "Died with the damn gems so now we don’t get jack shit for this job."

Cor’s eyes narrowed and he ground his teeth. "What about Dane and the kid?"

"Dane got shot in the back and the kid might still be alive."

"What do you mean, ‘might?’"

Gabriel shrugged. "Last I saw he was still alive when I ditched his noisy ass in a puddle."

"You son of a bitch," Cor said quietly.

"It was either that brat or me," Gabriel said defensively. "Besides, it’s not like the kid had much of a fu-"

Cor lunged at Gabriel, catching him off guard and ramming him into a tree. Cor punched him twice in the stomach and then plunged his elbow into the back of Gabriel’s neck after his former ally had doubled over. Gabriel fell to his knees and Cor kicked him in the face.

"I always knew you were a bastard," Cor said as he kicked Gabriel again. "But I never knew that you were an evil bastard."

Cor pulled his leg back for a third kick, but Gabriel grabbed his shin and then kicked Cor in the knee, sending him to the ground. Gabriel scrambled over to Cor with a rock in his hand. With a bloody, delirious grin, he smashed Cor in the head with it.

"Do you like that, fuckhead?" he screamed as he brought the stone down a second time. "How about three?" Cor flailed madly to ward off the blows, but blood had run into his eyes, blinding him. Gabriel struck Cor solidly a third time. Gabriel stood up and began stomping Cor’s head and torso. "Not so nice when you’re the one on the ground, is it dipshit?!" he shouted.

Cor awkwardly pulled out the pistol Crage had given him and aimed blindly at the sound of Gabriel’s voice. Gabriel stepped on his wrist, sending a shot hurtling uselessly into the trees.

"Oh, no you don’t," Gabriel said as he leaned over and wrenched the weapon out of Cor’s hand. Gabriel pointed the gun at Cor’s head. "I should blow your ass away, you fucking bastard. I should gouge out your eyeballs and suck your fucking brains out of your head. But, I think I’ll get a bit more satisfaction out of knowing you got eaten alive, nice and slow by some jungle monster." Gebriel spotted the edge of Cor’s map poking out of his pocket. He nonchalantly plucked the map out of Cor’s possession. "I’ll be taking this, too, thank you very fucking much." He kicked Cor once more in the chest as he turned away.

Gabriel quickly gathered his rifle and possessions and began walking into the woods. "If I see Mara again, I’ll give her a good solid fucking for you, okay?" he said with a malicious smirk. As he walked away, he ripped the beacon off his wrist and tossed it on the ground. He left Cor bleeding and semi-concious on a bed of green.

Drella walked quickly throught the woods, chattering incessantly about the settlement and what it was based on while Mara concentrated on keeping pace. Her wrist was wrapped in fresh gauze and all of her injuries had been treated, but she was still exhausted from her ordeals. The sun climbed steadily into the sky and the temperature was beginning to become oppressive again.

"...after Omec discovered how to properly use zap," Drella babbled, "it was really just a short jump to committing himself to living as the crabbies live, at peace with nature and with themselves."

"They didn’t look...very peaceful to me," Mara said, panting for breath, "when I saw them slaughtering people."

Drella was unphased. "The only kill the people who deserve it. They kill those whose minds are incompatible with the harmony of the forest."

"Christ," Mara muttered.

"It’s our duty to lead the crabbies down the proper path of development so that they don’t make the same mistakes we humans did. We have to undo all of the damage that’s already been done."

"What damage?"

"They, in their infant phase of civilization, witnessed the Rockefeller Revolution and all the violence that took place here afterwards and they had that horrible Mahkra person as a role model. And they develop so quickly. They’ve already developed metal armor and can make better weapons. It’s a pity that of all they things to make, they decide to focus on weapons."

"Isn’t there...a perimeter you’ve got to stop at?" Mara asked.

"Yes," Drella said brightly, "but it’s not for another couple of miles."

Mara rolled her eyes and wiped the sweat from her forehead. "Aren’t you hot in that body armor?"

"It’s got an internal cooling system," Drella said simply. "As I was saying, our settlement will be the key to the futures for both of our peoples..."

After another half hour of inane monologue, Drella’s speech stopped abruptly. Appearing in front of them was a crabby that stood almost seven feet tall. It was wearing the characteristic metal armor with the same red shape on the front. Mara could see now that the shape was vaguely representative of a crimson skull. The crabby was holding a spear with a real human skull lodged on the point. It stood nearly motionless before them, only the tendrils between its shoulders waving gently in the air.

"Well miss crabby genius, what do we do now?" Mara asked mockingly.

"I...I don’t know," Drella stammered. "I’ve never been this close to one."

"I thought you saw them all the time at the village."

"I did," Drella said, her voice falling to a whisper, "but they always just watched us from the edge of the forest. I never got this close."

Almost two minutes passed with no action from anyone.

"Fuck this," Mara said. "If it wanted to kill us it would have done it already." She began walking toward the crabby.

"No, wait--" Drella said belatedly. She watched bright-eyed as Mara brushed past the crabby without eliciting any response. Drella blinked a few times and then hesitantly began to follow Mara.

The crabby stepped sideways and blocked her. Drella paused and tried again to move past the crabby. The crabby again moved to block her. Then the crabby raised one oits pincers and pointed back toward the settlement. Drella backed away slowly, then turned and ran back toward the settlement.

Mara looked back and saw Drella running back for the settlement. She released a sigh of relief and checked her scanner. It registered nothing.

Cor heard something approaching through the jungle. His eyes half opened and he struggled briefly to force his muscles into obedience. He managed to raise his head slightly before collapsing again. "Just get it over with quick," he whispered.

Cor’s body jerked when felt something poke the small of his back. He listened to the thing move toward his head and closed his eyes tight when he felt something sniffing the nape of his neck. He relaxed slightly when he heard the thing turn and begin moving away. Then he heard tearing noises. He listened for a few moments as the cound changed from the tearing of fabric to the ripping of plastic. Cor finally got up the courage and strength to lift his head and see what was happening.

He saw a brown roundish creature three feet across eating the remaining rations from his backpack. The thing was busily stuffing bits of food into its small mouth with six tiny pincered arms. Its four pearl-like eyes shifted to Cor’s direction, but its eating pace never slowed. After a few seconds it turned its full attention back to the food, aparantly deciding that Cor was no threat.

Cor relaxed and lied back down. He laughed weakly.

Mara stalked carefully through the woods. The jungle around her was deathly silent, a sharp contrast to scant hours before when it was full of amateur bounty hunters. She glanced frequently at her scanner, but the device failed to pick up any signs of her friends. She became aware of the sound of something moving through the trees ahead of her.

Mara crouched down for a few seconds and heard grunting, scraping sounds. She slowly moved forward, rifle ready. Finally through the trees she spotted something large moving around. The thing had pale brown skin on its blubbery body and a half dozen stubby legs. Its body was oval-shaped and the only distinguishing features it had was a triad of black eyes and a pair of yellow tentacles near what was presumably its head. The creature was molting. Its old, greyish skin was peeling off in giant shreds and the new, pinkish skin underneath clashed with the deep green of the forest. The creature was rubbing its body against a tree to scrape of the skin, and the tentacles were busily peeling off large section and dropping them on the ground.

Mara was about to turn away when something fell on the beast from the height of the canopy. The thing looked like a gargantuan spider with legs that resembled bony human fingers. It’s legs sank deeply into the landbound creature’s flanks. The attacking monstrosity, still connected to the trees above by a thick leathery tail, began to hoist its shrieking victim into the air. Mara watched the two creatures disappear into the branches above her, the prey’s screeching fading out as they vanished. The spot where the victim had been sloughing off its old skin was awash in a rain of brackish blood.

Mara stood motionless for a few minutes, still staring at the shreds of old skin lying on the blood-soaked ground. A shook off her shock and walked carefully away, glancing upward fearfully.

Cor leaned on a tree, favoring the knee Gabriel had kicked. He stepped forward painfully, judging how much weight he could put on his knee. He stumbled and barely managed to keep from falling down. "Fuck you, Gabriel," he hissed. "If I ever see you again I’m going to shoot your ass."

He looked back at his backpack. The marauder had long since left, leaving plastic wrappers and Cor’s last possessions strewn over the forest floor. Of all of the things he had brought with him, he brought only his canteen. Cor turned and began hobbling through the underbrush. He grimaced with every step in anguish, but he pushed on. After barely a half hour of laborious travel, he was out of breath and sweating badly. He sat down heavily on a fallen log and took several long gulps from his canteen. He leaned back and closed his eyes out of exhaustion. I took a few deep breaths and prepared to contine on hs journey.

As he began to stand up, he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned and saw Mara standing a few yards away from him. She had not seen him. Instead, she was looking down at her scanner. "Great," Cor said out loud. "Fuckin’ great. Now I’m hallucinating." He shook his head and dropped his face into his hands, laughing weakly.

"Cor?"

Cor stopped laughing. He jerked his head up and saw Mara standing in front of him. "Mara? Are you real or am I delirious?"

Mara lunged at him, hugging him tightly and nearly knocking him off the log. "Oh, God, I thought you were dead," she said, tears welling up in her eyes. She kissed him several times quickly on the cheek in her elation. Only then did she notice the dried blood flacking from his skin. "What happened to you?" she asked. "Are you alright?"

Cor shrugged. "I’ve had a busy day. Fell down a mountain, had a disagreement with Gabriel, you know, the regular stuff."

"Gabriel? Is he still alive?"

"Not when I get my fucking hands on him."

"What happened?" Mara asked, her tone becoming somber.

Cor shrugged. "He was just really being an asshole. He practically killed one of Flynn’s kids and has just generally been a son of a bitch."

"Jesus," Mara whispered. "What about everyone else? I found Shrike. He’s--"

"Dead," Cor interrupted. "I know. So are Stang and Saurmauch and Flynn’s family. Those damn bounty hunters ambushed us and wiped us out."

"But you’re alive," Mara said resolutely. "Let’s get out of this fucking jungle so you stay that way."

Cor grabbed Mara’s shoulder and tried to pull himself up. "I’ll need help. My knee is for shit thanks to dipshit."

Mara draped one of his arms around her shoulders and helped to support him. "No problem."

"How far away is the road?" Cor asked.

"I have no idea," Mara answered.

Gabriel trudged through the woods, staring at the contour map. "Any second now," he told himself. "Any fucking second." He looked around him into the dense forest, looking for anything that he could define on the map.

He suddenly stopped cold. Ahead of him, barely visible through the foliage, was a grey stripe, shining in the sun. He walked a little closer, staring hard at the anomaly. As he approached, his hopes became confirmed. It was the road and it was less than a hundred feet away.

He looked up at the sky and spread his arms. "Thank you, Lord! I knew you’d get me out of this one!" He began to trot lightly throught the woods, a broad smile on his face.

Suddenly Gabriel shouted in pain, clutching his side. He looked down and saw a spine jutting a few inches from his body. "Jesus fucking Christ!" he exclaimed. He gingerely began to pull the spine form his side, wincing in pain. The spine had sunk five inches into his torso and was coated with a milky green slime. "Jesus fucking Christ," Gabriel said again, with even more emphasis. He looked around quickly. He saw something with pink skin and large eyes staring at him from a burrow. The creature’s forehead was highlighted by a column of spins.

"You fucker!" Gabriel screamed. He began firing his rifle at the burrow as the creature’s face disappeared into the darkness.

There was a blur of light and Gabriel’s rifle was uselessly pointing skyward, supported by only Gabriels left hand. Gabriel looked down and saw that there was only a stump spurting blood where his right hand used to be. He looked at it at astonishment for a moment and then he noticed a shape beside him. He looked up and saw a crabby towering above him. The crabby was holding a blade in each pincer, one of them stained with Gabriel’s blood. With fluid movements, the crabby stabbed Gabriel in the chest with both of its blades, lifted him up in the air, and slammed him on the ground.

Still in shock and gasping for air, Gabriel struggled to lift his head. The crabby was gone. Gabriel looked at the stump on the end of his arm. "Fuck," he said quietly as his life leaked on the ground around him. Gabriel laid his head back down on the soft carpet of foliage and faded out of conciousness. A few minutes later, his body took one last breath.

The thing in the burrow reappeared at the entrance and regarded Gabriel’s still form. It moved cautiously and haltingly, stretching its serpentine body to his corpse. It finally grabbed his hand and dragged him quickly back to its burrow. Because of Gabriel’s size, it could only pull him in up to his shoulder, in spite of its persistant tugs.

"...so I said my goodbyes to Mr. Crage and that was that," Cor said. The two had been moving through the jungle for hours, Mara still supporting Cor. The afternoon air was thick with humidity and nearly breezeless.

"What makes you think you can trust him?" Mara asked as she wiped away a bit of sweat that had accumulated on the end of her nose.

"He knew what had happened. He knew where each of us was and what our reactions were when he killed Flynn."

"He was dying anyway," Mara said, "so what if he had some score to settle with Baker and decided to use you for it?"

"Then who sent him to kill Flynn?" Cor said. "Who else knew that we would be there at that time and that we would have been expressly told to take him alive? It’s a bit too much of a coincidence to be made to look that bad without there being some plan behind it. Besides, they had his name on the wanted posters that were probably printed up before we even got--"

"Shit." Mara said, stopping.

"What?" Cor asked. He followed Mara’s gaze and saw the road less than fifty feet in front of them. "We made it," he said quietly.

The two moved as quickly as htey could manage to the road and stepped out into the sunlight on the shoulder of the highway. Cor blinked several times and looked both ways down the gray ribbon of polymer. The air over the pavement shimmered in the heat. The road was still choked with vehicles of all shapes and sizes parked haphazardly on the borderline of the jungle.

"Geez," Cor said. "A hell of a lot of people turned out for this."

"They offered a lot of money," Mara answered.

Cor looked around. "And now they’re all dead."

The two were silent for a moment. "Come on," Mara said, pulling Cor between two cars and into the street. "We have to get back to Demeter. Do you think you can still hotwire a car?"

"Sure," Cor answered. "Pick a nice one."

"What abou that one?" she said, pointing to a battered metallic blue sedan.

Cor shrugged. "I suppose that it's as good as any. At least it's not boxed in." The door had been left unlocked and Cor set to work manipulating the wiring. After fifteen minutes, the engine began humming. "Alright, let's get going," Cor said as he slowly climbed in.

The car had been in the shadow of the trees but it was still stiflingly hot inside. Mara rolled down the window and held her face outside to take advantage of the slightly cooler air. Cor shifted the old vehicle into reverse and lurched onto the road. The sedan moved slowly down the road, weaving between the carelessly parked vehicles.

"I'm surprised that nobody's out here scavaging," Cor said thoughtfully. "They could make a hell of a lot of money."

"They're probably all afraid," Mara said. "That Omec guy I was telling you about said something about the crabbies being really pissed off. They've been killing the bounty hunters that were after you guys."

"Omec told you this?" Cor said doubtfully.

"I saw it."

Cor bumped the projecting corner of a truck, nearly jarring the car from the road.

"Jesus, Cor," Mara said. "Be more careful."

"This is damn hard," Cor said defensively. "These idiots don't know how to park."

After several minutes of driving, the jagged wall of vehicles on the side of the road came to an abrupt end. Cor sped up and the car hurtled down the empty highway.

"Where are we going?" Mara asked, shouting above the wind.

"I guess back to the hotel," Cor answered. "We should still have a room there."

"You’d think there would be at least some effor to clear the highway," Mara said.

After a half hour, the trees surrounding the highway abruptly gave was the the wide open vista of Demeter sparkling in the sunlight. Cor slowed the car to a stop. Plumes of smoke marred the panorama and military hovercoptors buzzed between the skyscrapers manacingly. Without the wind rushing past them, they could hear sounds of gunfire.

"Something big is going down," Cor mumbled.

"Do you want to still risk trying to get to the hotel?" Mara asked. "I have the gems Baker paid Shrike. We could go straight to the spaceport and get off world."

Cor was silent for a moment. "I have to go back. I’ll never make it through the spaceport. You’ve got to go on without me or we’ll both get caught."

"We can bribe them," Mara said. "A few gems and any officer will look the other way. Please--"

"I have to get Baker, alright?" Cor said, nearly shouting. "I have to nail that fucker for what he did to us!"

"You don’t have to!" Mara shouted back, tears beginning to brim over her eyelids. "Shrike and all the others are dead and you can’t bring them back, but you can take care your responsibilities to me and your damn child!"

Cor looked at her for a moment, then spoke more softly. "Baker’s still in charge. If I don’t stop him, he’s going to go on killing for his own ends. The fucker has to go down."

"So let him! It’s not your fucking responsibility to save this fucked up planet. Things are going to hell everywhere else, why do you have to go out of your way to try to help these people?"

Cor sighed deeply. "Look, you can still get away. By associating with me you’re not only risking your own life, but also our kid’s. I don’t know how you didn’t get associated with us, but that’s a stroke of luck you can’t pass up. You have a free ticket out of here, and you’ve got to take it."

"Cor--" Mara began.

Cor cut her short. "If you ever loved me, if what we had ever meant anything to you, then you will get on the first transport out of here and get yourself safe, do you hear me?"

Mara buried her face in her hands and her body shook with sobs.

Cor wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I’m sorry it has to be this way," he said softly, "but I need you to get away. I promise that if I can I’ll find you, okay?"

Mara did not answer, but continued to sob. Cor silently withdrew his arm and resumed driving the car for the city. After a few more minutes of driving, they entered the outskirts of Demeter. The roads were nearly empty and littered with debris. The sounds of fighting had diminished greatly, but the helicoptors still buzzed overhead like hawks looking for a meal. Cor eyed them nervously.

"Something really big is going down," Cor murmured again.

Mara had stopped crying, but the only response she made was a deep sniff.

Cor maneuvered past the burnt-out carcass of a vehicle. A block beyond that Cor saw a group of men loading piles of blood-soaked bodies onto a truck. The wall of a nearby building was spattered with blood and cratered with multiple bullet impacts.

"They’re using firing squads," Cor mumbled as they drove past. "I bet Baker used the distraction of us to move against the rebels."

Mara still did not answer.

Finally, the car came to a stop in front of the hotel. The building was undamaged, but the utter lack of activity in the neighborhood was disquieting.

"Mara," Cor said. She did not look at him. Cor gently took her chin in his hand and moved her face toward him. She did not resist, but still would not look at him. "Mara, please..."

Her reddened eyes met his.

"I have to go now. I need you to drive to the spaceport and get to safety. Will you promise me that you’ll get off planet as soon as possible?"

She looked at him for a moment and then pulled her face away.

"Mara?" Cor said softly. After a few seconds, he repeated Mara’s name, but more firmly.

"Fine." Mara finally hissed. "I’ll go."

"Promise?" He grasped the crucifix around Mara’s neck and squeezed it tightly. "Do you swear on this thing?"

"Yes," Mara said bitterly, yanking her amulet back.

Cor was silent for a moment. Then he climbed awkwardly out of the car and began limping toward the hotel.

Mara climbed into the driver’s seat. "Cor," she said softly.

Cor turned around. Mara held her hand out the window, beckoning Cor to come back. He hobbled back toward the car.

"I’m sorry," Mara said, tears welling in her eyes again. "Promise you’ll meet with me."

Cor smiled slightly. He leaned over and kissed Mara. "I promise," he said as he stood back up. "Now get the fuck out of here," he said as he squeezed her hand. He took a couple of steps back and watched Mara drive off in the empty streets. When the car disappeared around a corner, he turned and hobbled toward the hotel. "Christ," he muttered, "I’m such a liar."

The lobby of the hotel was empty except for a nervous-looking young man behind the desk. His eyes darted to Cor and looked him over. "Good day, sir," he said in a tight voice as Cor walked past.

Cor looked at the man for a moment and, certain that the man did not recognize him form the wanted posters, nodded back. Cor walked to the elevator and pushed the button. As he waited, he glanced around the lobby. He noticed fresh bloodstains on the plush carpet. He looked up at the man behind the desk, who was pacing in his station like an animal in a cage. The elevator doors slipped open and Cor hurried inside.

In his short walk from the elevator to the room, Cor did not see another living soul. The only sign that the hotel was still occupied were the few nervous whispers or low murmurs of televisions through the closed doors. Cor walked as quickly as his injured knee would allow to his room. He slid the key card through the receptor and opened the door cautiously. The room was empty and untouched.

"What the hell kind of cops do they have here?" he muttered.

He closed the door behind him and turned on the megnetic locks. Then he walked into the bedroom Shrike had occupied and dragged a brown suitcase from under the bed. He carried it out to the main room and placed it on the table. He opened the case and surveyed its contents. Inside were neatly bundled wires, several large, white crystals, and vials of green liquid. Cor unraveled a length of wire and began to work with the contents of the case.

"Let’s see how you like a little Vodite surprise," Cor muttered.

Cor picked up the remote control and switched on the vidscreen. He concentrated on wiring while the plastic anchorpeople droned about the weather and the economy. Then Cor heard Baker's name. His eye locked on the screen.

A man with slicked back blond hair and piercing blue eyes filled the screen. His voice was smooth with just a hint of an accent. "Vincent Baker announced this morning that thanks to popular support, a significant portion of rebel forces had been wiped out. This most recent shift in public opinion was spurred by the murder of popular writer Thomas Flynn and the disappearance of his surviving family at the hands of the rebels. The rebels went on to slaughter possibly hundreds of law-abiding citizens who volunteered to find the assassins and bring them to justice."

The screen shifted to an anchorwoman. Her hair was dark and her lipstick too red for her skin tone. "Baker also announced that he was considering ceceding from the United Planets and joining the Vistula Federation. He had this to say on the possibility."

The scene changed to Vincent Baker standing behind a cluster of microphones. He was dressed in a white suit and his face was arrogant. "Verdencia is not a backwater," he said in a preaching tone. "We are tired of Bryan Hill and his bureaucratic paper-pushers trying to tell us how to run our planetary affairs. Verdencia deserves its freedom and the right to find its own destiny."

The vidscreen showed him walking down the white stone stairs of the Verdencian capital building, smiling broadly in the sunlight, waving at supporters. The anchorwoman's voice came back. "His proposal has broad support from those businesses that feel hampered by government regulations."

Next the figure of a short man with a round face a thin whisps of graying hair on his head standing behind a podium appeared. The anchorman's voice drowned out all other sounds. "Hill has promised that any planets attempting to cecede from this union of planets will be met with military force."

Hill's voice, bland and shallow, came on next. "We have tried reasoning with the Vistula planets but they will not compromise. We therefore have no choice but to enforce an embargo on all of their shipping and interplanetary travel until they cease in these ill-conceived attempts to break away."

The anchorman's face reappeared on the screen. "Baker will be attending an emergency council of regents at the capital building tonight and they will decide then whether to join the Vistula Confederation or remain under Terran control. Early polls indicate that sixty-eight per--"

Cor had turned off the vidscreen. He stared at the dead gray monitor for a long time.

Mara looked out over the horizon. The sun had become a deep red as it sank to the horizon. A thick storm front was moving in from the dark side of the sky, pursuing the light. Lightning flashed in the bowels of the cloud bank and the curtain of rain drowned the distant hills in a wall of gray.

Mara had finally reached the spaceport. The highways were choked with sluggish traffic as hundreds of people decided to flee their homeworld rather than face the unknown. Mara had abandoned the stolen car several miles back and walked the rest of the way. Those who chose to remain in their vehicles were now far behind her. She weaved through the jumble of unmoving cars to the main terminal.

She hurried through the doors of the terminal and was greeted by the sight of a sea of humanity crowding to make it onto the few ships that were leaving. "She slapped her hand to her forehead. "I don’t fucking believe this," she said out loud. She felt the bag of gems in her pocket and plunged into the crowd.

Cor stood accross the street from the capitol. A bronze statue of Mahkra stood in the center of the granite courtyard in front of the large domed building. Guards lined the building and hordes of reporters waited hungrily on the stairs. The large gold-flecked dome was illuminated, looking like a second sun in the dark night. A warm, humid wind blew through the streets and thunder rumbled in the distance.

Cor limped toward the building. He was wearing a battered green trenchcoat that he had to hold closed for lack of buttons. He walked up the stairs past the reporters who looked at him quizzically. The guards moved to bar his entry.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" one of them asked, holding his rifle menacingly.

Cor opened his trenchcoat. The crystals were wrapped neatly around his waist, connected by wires to a small metal box with a flashing red light on it. From the box ran a wire that Cor had taped to the center of his chest.

"He's wired!" one of the guards screamed. They pointed their rifles at him in unison.

"You see this?" Cor said loudly, pointing to the electrode on hes chest. "This thing picks up my heartbeat and feeds it to the detonator. If my heart stops, it goes off. So go ahead and kill me. I've got enough Vodite strapped to me to take out this whole block."

The guards stared at him in disbelief.

"You can let me in," Cor said, grasping the electrode, "and survive to see another morning, or I yank this off, and we all die right now."

The guards' eyes opened wide. "Let him in!" the chief guard commanded. One of the others pushed open the heavy wooden doors and got out of the way.

"Thank you," Cor said as he walked into the well-lit interior.

A picture of Cor on the vidscreen attracted Mara's attention. She elbowed her way through he crowd so that she could hear what was being said.A woman's voice was speaking. The vidscreen showed Cor standning on the stairs of the capitol building, speaking to the guards who looked prepared to shoot him. Then one of them allowed him inside. "...just minutes ago," the voice said. "Before deserting their posts, the guards said that he had several crystals of Vodite strapped to his body hooked up to a heart monitor that would explode if his heart stopped."

The screen shifted to the woman's concerned face. "Again, an unidentified man has entered the capitol building armed with explosives. We'll have more details for you as they develop. This comes just minutes after Mr. Baker’s announcement that Verdencia would join the Vistula confederation and was prepared to battle with Earther forces."

Mara stood motionless in front of the vidscreen. Outside the rain began to fall.

Cor kicked open the doors to the conference room. He had discarded the trenchcoat, putting the explosives around his torso in plain view. He was holding his pistol in his hand.

The room was dominated by one long table. Over a dozen sharply dressed men and women surrounded the table. At the head of the table sat Baker. A camera crew was also in the room. They all looked at Cor with surprise.

"I'm sorry mister Baker," one of the guards behind Cor said. "We tried to stop him, but he said he'd blow himself up if he didn't get to talk to you."

Baker stood up. "What can I do for you, son?" he said softly.

"Are you rolling?" a reporter asked the camera man quietly.

"Don't fucking patronize me, asshole," Cor said as he walked quickly around the table toward Baker. He stopped inches from Baker's face. "You killed them. ALL of them, just to staisfy your appetite for power."

"I--I don't know what you're talking about," Baker said unevenly.

"Let me refresh your memory," Cor said bitterly. "Do you remember a short guy called Shrike? Do you remember a deal made in Zurch's pub?"

"I don’t know what you mean," Baker said, his tone changing. "I’ve never heard of that place."

Cor smiled. He shoved baker back into his chair. "Do you think I'm hear to expose you? No, I'm here to kill you."

This brought a frightened mumbling among the people sitting at the table. A woman with white hair a brown skirt stood up and tried to run for the door.

Cor pointed the pistol at her. "Ma'am," he called, "don't make me shoot you."

The woman stopped and looked back at him.

"Sit back down, please," Cor said pleasantly.

The woman sat back down quickly.

Cor turned his attention back to Baker.

"You're insane," Baker said.

"Yeah? Well you made me that way." Gripping the pistol by the barrel, Cor offered the gun to Baker. "Here."

Baker didn't move.

"Take it," Cor said firmly.

The camera man moved slightly to get a better shot of the transaction.

Baker slowly reached up and grasped the gun. "What do you want?"

"I want you to finish what you started," Cor said. Then he bent over, placing his head on the end of the pistol. "I'm the last of the party. Finish it."

Baker began shaking.

"Finish it!" Cor shouted.

Baker slowly pulled the gun away. "What do you want money? Power? Immunity? I can grant you all that, just...please don't kill me."

Cor stood straight and looked down at Baker with disgust in his eyes. He turned to the camera. "I want you to remember," he said, "that your great and powerful leader died on his fucking knees." With that he grabbed the electrode on his chest and ripped it off. He turned his gaze to the horrified eyes of Baker. A full second after he pulled the electrode from his chest, the little metal box beeped.

The image vanished into static. A few seconds later an anchorwoman reappeared on the screen. "We appear to have lost our connection with our crew..."

Mara was beyond listening. "NO!" she screamed. She slapped her hands on the warm glass of the vidscreen as it turned to an external view of the building. The capital was engulfed in flames, illuminating the clouds above with a sickly orange. The statue of Mahkra was silhouetted by the flames. "NO!" she screamed again as the ball of fire slowly rolled skyward. She slowly sank to her knees. "No," she said one more time.

A man with an anxious voice came over the intercom. "The Earther destroyer Walton has informed us that it will bombard this spaceport in ten minutes. I suggest that everyone evacuate immediately."

Like a single organism, the crowd of people in the spaceport began a mad rush for the doors. Mara stayed on the floor next to the vidscreen, tears forming a small puddle on the floor. After a few minutes she pulled herself up and allowed herself to be engulfed by the current of humanity that carried her out into the night.