Nightingale's instinct was to get everyone out of the woods. But he couldn't just leave everything. The stinger had a comfortable heft. He glanced at it, felt the hum of power inside the grip. It would bring down a rhino.

He pushed past Tatia. Cookie whispered to him to stay put, but he felt that his position as leader somehow required him to lead. To get out front.

Something moved rapidly, squealing, through the canopy. At ground level, a pair of eyes watched him through heavy shrubbery.

Cookie moved up beside him. "Lizard, I think, Randy. Wait-"

"What?" asked Tatia.

It came out into the open, a long reptilian head with a crest, followed by a thick mud-colored body. It had short legs and nictitating eyes. Its jaws were open, and it was watching Nightingale and Cookie.

"Croc," said Cookie.

"Croc?" Biney's voice.

"Same general order," said Nightingale. "More like a small dragon."

"Is it what killed Gappy?"

"I don't think so." It was too big. Anyhow, this thing would gore and mangle. Gappy and the others appeared to have numerous puncture wounds.

Its tail rose slowly and fell. He wondered whether it was issuing a challenge.

Nightingale reactivated his e-suit. "What do you think, Cookie?"

"Don't do anything to provoke it. Don't shoot unless it attacks. Don't make eye contact."

His heart was pounding.

The dragon snorted, opened its jaws, and showed them a large gullet and lots of razor teeth. It pawed the ground.

"If it takes another step toward us," said Nightingale quietly, "take it down."

The dragon's gaze shifted. It looked above them, toward the upper branches of the trees. Its jaws opened and closed, and a serpentine tongue flicked out. Then it was backing away.

Backing away.

Nightingale followed its gaze.

"What's happening?" asked Cookie.

"I'd swear," said Nightingale, "something scared it."

"You're kidding."

"I don't think so." A couple of the furry spiders were chasing each other through the canopy. One leaped across an open space, caught a branch, and hung on for dear life while the branch sank halfway to the ground. There was nothing else up there. Save the redbirds.

Biney was a tall woman, almost as tall as Cookie. She had hard humorless features, a voice loaded with steel, and the easy grace of a linebacker. She might have been attractive if she'd ever loosened up. Ever smiled.

She arrived with the full complement of her team, two men and a woman, all with weapons drawn.

She more or less took over, as if Nightingale no longer existed. And in truth he was pleased to hand over responsibility. This sort of thing was more in her domain than his.

She directed Tatia and Andi to stand guard, and assigned everyone else to construct slings from branches and hanging vines. When the slings were ready they laid them on the ground, placed the bodies within, and began the cumbersome effort of withdrawal.

She gave crisp directions, ordered the march, kept them together. There'd be no wandering off and no idle sight-seeing.

The trees forced them to travel single file. Nightingale was assigned a position at the rear, behind Cookie, who had charge of Gappy's body. It was hard not to stare at the corpse as they walked. The terrified expression of the dead man held him in a kind of tidal lock.

Biney had brought a laser cutter, which she wielded with grim efficiency, slicing away the undergrowth. Nightingale, as the smallest of the men, or possibly because of his position as project director, had been spared the effort of trying to drag one of the slings. When he offered to help, Biney told him on a private channel that he'd be more useful as a lookout.

So he watched the tiny forest denizens, the ubiquitous spiders and redbirds and a dozen other animals. A barrel-shaped creature literally rolled past, apparently oblivious of the presence of the rescue force.

It was an intriguing beast, but there'd be no further investigation on this world. At least not for Nightingale. He knew that Biney would insist on allowing no one to return to the surface until the incident had been reported to the Academy. And he knew how the Academy would react. They'd have no choice, really.

Come home.

To his right, a half dozen of the big-footed redbirds sat on a branch. There was something in their manner that chilled him.

Their beaks were the right size.

Had it been redbirds the dragon had seen?

Their heads swung as the party passed. The forest grew deadly still.

The trees were full of them.

As they walked, birds in their rear took flight, glided beneath the canopy, and descended onto branches ahead.

"It's the redbirds," he said softly to Biney.

"What?"

"It's the cardinals. Look at them."

"Those little critters?" Biney could scarcely keep the derision out of her voice.

Nightingale picked out a branch from which four, no, five, of the animals were watching. He sighted on the middle one, set the intensity low since it was such a small creature, and knocked it off its perch.

As if it had been a signal, the redbirds descended on them from a dozen trees. Off to his left, Tatia screamed and fired her weapon. They were like scarlet missiles and they came in from all sides. Stingers crackled and birds exploded. A cactus erupted and burned fiercely. The air was filled with feathers and fire. One of the people who'd come in with Biney, Hal Gilbert, went down.

The stinger was a discriminating weapon. You had to aim it. That meant it wasn't of much use against this kind of attack. But Nightingale used his as well as he could, keeping the trigger depressed, and just swinging it around his head.

Biney's laser was a different matter. He saw it flash through the air, watched whole legions of the redbirds spin wildly and go down. Down in flames, you sons of bitches.

Other cactuses blew up as the stingers touched them.

Then something ripped into his back. He bit down a scream and fell to his knees, thinking he'd been hit by one of the weapons. But when he reached behind, his fingers closed on a feathery thing, which struggled frantically to get free. He crushed it.

The injury was in an awkward place, near his shoulder blade. He tried to reach it, gave up, and fell down on his back, gaining some relief by pressing it against the ground. He got off a couple more shots when something hit him again. In the neck.

The edges of his vision turned dark, his breathing slowed, and the world began to slip away.

Tatia was bending over him. She smiled when she realized he was awake. "Glad to see you're back with us, boss."

They were in the lander. He was on a couch. "What happened?" he asked.

"Here." She produced a mug from somewhere. "Drink this." Apple cider. It tasted warm and sweet. But his back and neck felt stiff. "We had to give you a painkiller."

He tried to look past her. Saw only Cookie. "Did everybody make it back?"

"All of Biney's people." She squeezed his arm. "But not Biney. Not Sherry. And not Andi." Her voice caught.

"There were swarms of the goddam things," said Cookie. "We were lucky any of us got out of there."

"It was horrible." Tatia shuddered. "They were coordinated. They'd hit us, and back off. Hit us, and back off. They came in waves, came from every direction."

Cookie nodded solemnly.

Nightingale tried to get up, but the painkiller hadn't taken hold.

"Careful." She held him in place. "You got jabbed a couple of times. You were lucky."

He didn't quite see how he was lucky. And my God, Biney was dead. How was that possible? And the others. Six all told.

It was a disaster.

He tasted the apple cider, let it slide down his throat.

"Will says you'll be okay." Will was Wilbur Keene, who'd been with Biney. He included an M.D. among his credentials, the principal reason he'd been selected for the voyage.