“An alien,” the Science Officer said. Jepson tapped her pad, changing the image on the screen from the graceful behemoth to an enlarged freeze frame of the Leaper. “It’s big by our standards, anywhere from five to seven meters, but tiny in comparison to the Floaters, and ninety-nine percent certainly not native to this planet.”
London whistled. “Man, the odds just keep getting better, don’t they?”
“Where did it come from? How did it get here?” Katz said.
Jepson shrugged. “Beats me. Tissue samples would go a long way to answering that.”
“Well, unless the Leaper ate that entire Floater, we know where we can get a sample of at least one of ’em,” Gilmore said.
“And the Leaper might have left some of its genetic material on the corpse,” Jepson said, sitting up in her seat with excitement.
Engineer’s mate Knutson stuck his head through the hatch and said, “Got a message coming in on the company comm, boss. Scrambled and urgent.”
“What the hell do they want now?” Lawford grumbled as she pushed back her seat.
“Hell if I know,” Knutson said, and was gone. Lawford followed.
* * *
Two hours later, Gilmore and London were once again suited up and hopping over the rusty landscape. This time, they carried assault rifles and were followed by the similarly armed XO and Science Officer.
Lawford had returned to the Mess from taking the comm with deep frown lines creasing her forehead and said to the crew, “Jepson’s preliminary report’s got the company all excited. We must’ve stumbled across something because I’ve been ordered to bring back a Leaper specimen, dead or alive at, quote, any reasonable cost, unquote.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Katz said.
“Then you’re going to like this even less. The order’s accompanied by a warning to approach the Leapers with extreme caution.”
“Now that sounds like a job that ought to come with a nice, fat juicy bonus,” London said with a grin.
Lawford nodded.
“Then count me in,” he said.
“You’re already in. So is Gilmore. Katz and Jepson, you go too. And everybody goes armed. It worries me when even the company’s nervous about what they’re sending us into.”
Gilmore and London retraced their steps to the edge of the plain of high grass that fed into the forest of giant stalks. The hike was little different than their first across the alien landscape, except for the weapons in their hands and the nervous awareness that they might have to use them.
“Keep your eyes open,” Gilmore said. She pointed east. “The Floater was brought down less than a klick from here. The Leaper might still be in the area.”
“I’m getting a thermal on the downed Floater,” Jepson confirmed. “Going to take a good long time for that giant to cool down.”
“Anything on the Leaper?” Katz said.
“Can’t tell. I’m getting all kinds of bio readings, but I think most of them are from the Floater. It’s taking a long time to die, but it’s really all just a lot of data noise if I don’t know what I’m looking for.”
“A twenty-foot plus monster with an ass and hindquarters like a kangaroo on steroids,” London said. “Can’t miss it.”
“Yeah, I’ll try not to,” Katz said. “Okay, let’s go. Stow those pads and check your charge, Jepson. There’ll be time for science as soon as the area’s secured.”
* * *
When he was still just a kid, London had wheedled his way into a backroom poker game with a bunch of Marines and corporate spacers. He was already a pretty good player and he had enough in his stash to last him through as many hands as it took to get the feel of the table. So he kept his mouth shut and his eyes open. Most of the guys were strictly amateur, easy enough to take, but usually only for small change. The one real player at the table was a grizzled Marine named Klonsky. He played like he didn’t give a damn. He kept up a running commentary and stream of joking patter, hardly bothering to glance at his cards or the growing pile of cash in front of him.
London played it cool, losing a little more than he won and throwing a few hands to come off as just another casual player, biding his time until he had the cards in his hand to make his move. It came, in a game of hold ’em, and while Klonsky blathered on, London built a beautiful hand, a surefire winner that got better and better as the pot grew bigger and bigger, until every cent he had was on the table.
But when they laid down their cards, Klonsky had him beat.
“Fortune favors the bold, kid,” Klonsky said with a wink and a grin, and London watched his former stake disappear into the other man’s pile of cash. Much to his surprise, he wasn’t the least bit angry or resentful. It had cost him everything, but it was worth it to find out just how much he had to learn. London walked away from the encounter poorer but wiser, and wearing his own version of Klonsky’s personality, an ill-fitting suit that he gradually tailored to fit himself.
London knew he rubbed a lot of people the wrong way but didn’t care. As long as he could suck you into his game and take your cash, he didn’t need your love.
Signing on with Weyland-Yutani had less to do with wanderlust than it did with cash. The pay was good and space was filled with bored people with money in their pockets and no place to spend it.
Fortune favors the bold, he thought, and there wasn’t anybody aboard the Typhoon bolder than him.
London moved gradually ahead of the others through the tall grass. First come, first serve, though not at the price of caution. All the cash in the universe was useless to him dead, so he kept one eye on his environment, money on his instruments, and his finger on the trigger.
* * *
Death had reduced the Floater to a slowly collapsing mountain of organic matter. It was still twitching and undulating when they found it, here and there, a tentacle lay twisted and exposed along its length, writhing like giant gray snakes in the rusty grass.
“Are you sure it’s dead?” Gilmore said. “Seems awful twitchy for a corpse.”
“As sure as I can be without a normal biometric to compare it against,” Jepson said. “As far as I can tell, this thing’s got at least four hearts, three brains, and what I’m willing to bet is at least six separate nervous systems.”
“Is it safe to approach?” Katz said.
“I think so,” Jepson said.
“You think so? That fills me with confidence,” Gilmore said.
“It’s fine, wiseass,” Jepson said. “Just don’t forget there’s a third life-form on the loose somewhere nearby.”
“Okay, let’s see if we can find where the Leaper struck this thing and get our samples,” Jepson said.
“Stay in visual contact with one another at all times,” Katz said, looking around. “Where’s London?”
Gilmore pointed to a spot a dozen meters closer to the forest of giant stalks. “I just saw him, right over there.”
Katz cursed and called the Warrant Officer’s name a few more times. There was no answer.
* * *
While the rest of them took their readings and poked cautiously at the body with sticks, London gave himself a running start and hopped onto the Floater. It was like trying to grab hold of a rubber sheet in the rain, but London managed to scramble awkwardly up onto the creature and find his footing.
London grinned as he listened to his shipmates’ speculative chatter over the radio. By the time they decided to do anything, he’d be back with the bonus already as good as in his pocket. The Floater was headed due north in its flight from the Leaper, so the spot they were looking for would be on its south end. What was so complicated?
As it turned out, not complicated at all. Within minutes, London saw ahead of him the massive, ugly trench torn in the sea of rust-colored flesh. Its edges were graying and oozing, splayed open to reveal a yawning cavern of hideously mottled and visibly decaying organic matter.
London’s stomach churned at the sight and for a second he thoug
ht he was going to lose his lunch, but he shut his eyes and thought of the reward, choking down his nausea and getting to work. He filled some bags with samples of flesh and viscera from the wound, but the money was in specimens from the Leaper. He searched the wound carefully for anything that the striking predator might have shed.
He heard Katz calling his name on his headset but he ignored it and went on with his search. Let them wait a few more minutes. He’d claim a radio glitch and none of the others had to be the wiser.
“Answer me, London,” Katz’s voice crackled in his ear. And then his radio did glitch, the voice hissing into static and the static stretching into a high-pitched whine that made London wince in pain.
It was followed by a Leaper exploding from the Floater’s wound and rising high into the air, its shadow falling across the stunned Warrant Officer before the creature began to descend on him.
* * *
Gilmore grabbed at her helmet as though trying to cover her ears when the feedback squealed through her headset. The sound made her weak at the knees and she found herself starting to twist and slowly fall. The low-grav made her motions almost balletic, and as she turned to sink into the grass, she saw, rising above the Floater the great form of the Leaper, a thing of darkness and sinew and sharp-edged claws and fangs.
“Incoming!” she screamed, but even she couldn’t hear herself over the Leaper’s call.
* * *
The black thing was coming down on top of him. As London tried to scramble out from beneath it, he lost his footing on the rubbery flesh and fell. He was just able to wrap one gloved hand around the barrel of his rifle, which he had put down while he collected his samples before tumbling down the Floater’s flank like a rock in an avalanche.
He hit the ground as the Leaper landed where he had just stood and then bounced, as if on a trampoline to follow its prey. London didn’t have time to turn his rifle around. Instead, he swung it like a bat, smashing it against the creature’s massive, narrow head. London didn’t know whether he had hurt or just annoyed the creature but had no intention of sticking around long enough to find out.
As fast as he could regain his footing, he pounced into the air and took off in leaps that covered three or four meters each, knowing full well the Leaper could catch him in a single jump. But so far, nothing was breathing down his neck and the squeal was no longer coming from the radio.
* * *
The realization that she hadn’t adequately thought this situation through struck Jepson like a punch to the gut. She had been so excited by the one Leaper that she never even stopped to consider there would be others.
But she considered it now.
They were bursting through the Floater’s flesh, four, five, six, and more of them. They were huge, five or six meters high, and everything about them spoke to an evolution as a killing machine. Their hides were like polished ebony and every appendage bristled with something pointed and deadly. Long narrow heads opened into impossibly wide maws lined with rows of razor-sharp teeth, and their lower halves were powerfully muscled to take advantage of the low gravity, with long, thick spiked tails.
Gilmore was staggered by the screech, her finger tightening reflexively on the trigger. The laser blast scorched the ground as she struggled to gain control of her muscles. The scream was rippling through her, making it difficult to think, much less take aim.
The moment the Leaper had been spotted, Katz pulled a flash-bang from his pouch and armed it. If it was a choice between getting the company its Leaper samples or blowing every last one of the ugly bastards to smithereens to save their asses, Katz knew which way he was going.
He tossed the flash-bang underhand, floating it right into three of the monsters who were converging on him. As it left his hand, their scream ripped through his head and he tried screaming loud enough to drown it out so he could get his rifle up and pull the trigger.
The concussive went off with a blinding light and deafening force enough to make the thin air ripple, spreading a cloud of gray smoke all around them. Katz couldn’t see through the smoke what, if any damage, he had inflicted, but the explosion seemed to have stopped the scream, at least for the moment.
Then London’s voice came screaming over his static-filled headset, “Heads up. I’m coming in… and I ain’t alone.”
He wished to hell he had more than three of the little canisters left in his pouch. Two, after he used one to repel a quartet of Leapers that were coming for Gilmore, and then down to one after they linked up with Jepson. But the first three blasts seemed to have made the Leapers more cautious, giving them a wide berth as the shipmates backed slowly from them.
“London,” Katz said. “Where the hell are you? We’re surrounded here.”
“I got my own problems,” the Warrant Officer grunted. “I’m cut off. I’m gonna take cover in the forest.”
Jepson consulted the pad on her forearm. “Keep your transponder on so I can track you, London.”
“Roger that. I’ll try to find an observation post so I can… uh-oh. Sh—,” they heard, but the scream started up again and washed the rest of his words away in static.
* * *
All of a sudden, the world was spinning and London didn’t know which way was up. Something had hold of his leg and he was being dangled like a ragdoll high into the sky, the rusty landscape whizzing by over his head. Then the sky and ground disappeared and the world turned dark and he was being battered on all sides before plummeting into deepening darkness.
The Leaper landed smoothly on the forest floor, its powerful legs flexing to absorb the impact. It dropped London and he tumbled to the loamy ground with a groan. He lay as he fell, face up, catching his breath after his dizzying ride.
The creature stood over him, crouched on massive haunches and cocked its head, as though listening.
London tried to catch his breath, his eyes never leaving the Leaper. He had been turned around and was deep enough in the forest to have no idea which way was out. He still had his sidearm in its holster, but this monster didn’t look like it would be much bothered by a few slugs.
He tried his radio, whispering through clenched teeth, but he only got a few words out before the electronic squeal obliterated his message. To add to his problem, the alarm on his oxygen supply was trilling a thirty-minute warning. After that, he was down to a ten-minute emergency tank.
The Leaper turned its dead, empty face to him.
Talk about long odds, he thought.
* * *
“Son of a bitch. I think they’re herding us, into the forest,” Katz said, slowly sweeping the barrel of his rifle across the wall of alien creatures surrounding them and forcing them back towards the forest of giant stalks.
“The Typhoon’s not answering our distress call,” Gilmore said.
“They can’t hear it,” Jepson said, speaking fast through her fear. “It’s the Leaper. I think the Floaters communicate using some sort of sonar, like whales. The Leapers disrupt it with a counter-frequency to confuse their prey. Our radios operate close enough to the Floaters’ frequency to be affected. I’ve switched suit-to-suit comm over to another band, but it’s only effective in close proximity.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be an issue,” Katz said. “So here’s the way I see our options: we try and shoot our way out now and they kill us here, or we let them herd us wherever and they kill us there.”
London’s voice cut briefly into the comm, saying one of them had grabbed him but he was okay before the shrill scream obliterated the rest of his message.
Jepson gasped. “He’s alive.”
“I guess if anyone’s going to beat the odds, it’s him,” Gilmore said.
* * *
They were on the move again, the Leaper dragging London by his leg through the dark forest. The company assured crews that their E.V.A. suits were made to stand up to any conditions, but he doubted being dragged by giant clawed aliens had been included in their testing protocols.
&nb
sp; Do or die, he thought. More likely do and die, but anything had to be better than being a pull toy for this nightmare. He reached for his sidearm but didn’t dare draw it while he was being jostled about. It was the only weapon he had and he couldn’t risk dropping it.
He didn’t have long to wait. The Leaper pushed past a giant stalk and into a clearing. London’s heart sank. A Floater had been brought crashing down in the forest, its massive carcass flattening the surrounding vegetation and serving as the hive for a colony of Leapers. London couldn’t tell how long the Floater had been dead, but from the look of the gray, rotting flesh it had been a while.
London’s stomach churned and he licked dry lips. No matter how he ran the game, he couldn’t come up with a winning hand. He was outnumbered and even with a good head start, one of these things could bring him to ground with a few good leaps. He might be able to take a few of them down before they got him, but so what? He was starting to think it might be smarter to just turn the gun on himself and get it over with.
“London? Do you hear me?”
Gilmore’s voice crackled in his ear, half static and breaking up. He winced in anticipation of the answering squeal, but it didn’t come.
“Gilmore? You guys okay? You reading me?” he said, his heart starting to pound even harder.
The response was garbled but the signal was improving by the second. They were still alive but the Leapers were herding them deeper into the forest. From the strengthening radio signal, they were headed his way. That was the good news. The bad was, the Leaper once again grabbed him by the leg and began dragging him towards the gaping rotting cavern of Leaper flesh.
“If you’re gonna ride in to save my sorry ass, now would be a good time,” he said, his voice hoarse. He pulled his gun.