The flat crack of pistol shots sounded behind Buccari. She whirled toward the noise. With teeth-rattling force, a massive paw struck her violently on her shoulder, knocking her across the clearing. Dazed, spitting dirt and bark, she looked up to see the remaining bear staggering after her, its red-rimmed eyes intent with rage, obsessed with killing—killing her. Blood streamed down its skull, soaking its grizzled mane. In two heartbeats Buccari cleared her brain and bunched her feet beneath her body, ready to leap to either side. Her left shoulder was numb. Beyond the approaching bear she saw movement from the alien, and, farther away, she noticed Hudson struggling with his pistol, trying to reload. Jones was nowhere in sight.

Mere paces away, the bear lurched and whirled with fantastic speed. As the bear spun, she saw Jones clinging to the beast's fur, resolutely stabbing a survival knife into the brute's back. Jones, as strong as he was, was an insect to the ursine monster. The boatswain was shaken loose and flung violently clear, landing limply on his head and neck amidst the decaying pieces of bark and the swarming bugs. Jones shuddered convulsively and lay still.

With the knife impaled in its back, the great bear pounced on Jones' inert form, snatching his head and neck in cavernous jaws. Looking more like a rag doll than a large human being, Jones was viciously shaken back and forth, his head held firmly in the bear's mouth. Hudson ran up to the animal, aiming his pistol.

"Shoot!" shouted Buccari. "Shoot!" she screamed. "Shoot, now!"

Hudson jockeyed position and fired two shots, and then another. The insane bear, impervious to Hudson's bullets, worried the limp human. Suddenly, a metallic ringing resounded, and an energy beam blasted the bear squarely in the back, exploding fur and muscle. The monstrous beast collapsed in a bleeding heap with Jones's lifeless body at its side. The air reeked of blood and ozone.

Buccari and Hudson turned to see the alien, blaster in hand, standing next to its dead mate. As they watched, wondering if they would be its next target, the alien collapsed.

Chief Wilson nearly jumped out of his skin. Goldberg moaned and hugged her baby.

"Move," Wilson ordered. "Grab what you can and get moving. Now!"

"Chief!" Fenstermacher shouted. "Here come the Marines!"

MacArthur and Tatum ran into the camp at full sprint, shedding their packs. Chastain was behind them, running along the beach, just coming through the cove opening. The rest of the Marines were not in sight. Chief Wilson, surrounded by a frightened crew still frantically packing equipment, stood and met them coming up the hill.

"I heard gunshots!" MacArthur gasped, staggering. "Where's Buccari?"

"She, Mr. Hudson, and Jones went up to meet them, Mac," Wilson said. "She told us to stand tight. If we hear gunfire, then we're supposed to find you guys and head for the dweller colony, she said."

"Some plan." MacArthur sucked wind. "Come on, Sandy, the boss needs some help."

"What should we do, Mac?" Wilson asked.

"What she ordered you to do, Gunner," MacArthur said, his breath returning. "Get your asses in gear. Sarge will be here soon, so you can get his opinion. We're going up the hill. Come on, Sandy."

The Marines double-timed up the grade and disappeared into the trees.

"Fenstermacher, get 'em going," Wilson shouted, pushing people into movement. Chastain trundled by, breathing too hard totalk, stopping only to throw off his pack, before following MacArthur into the woods.

"What is that popping sound?" Dowornobb asked.

"Light caliber weapons," Kateos answered, leaping to her hinds. "I have heard such noises from battlefields when I worked as a translator."

"But we do not carry such weapons," Dowornobb said. "Oh, no! The aliens have attacked Et Avian." He hefted the blaster and walked around the aircraft.

"Et Avian! Can you hear me? Report in!" he shouted, keying the transmitter on his helmet radio. "Scientist Lollee! Report in!" There was no response.

"Should we investigate?" Kateos asked. The noises had stopped.

"I do not have an answer," Dowornobb replied.

"Perhaps their helmet transmitters are out of range. Why did they not take a field radio?"

"A mistake," Dowornobb replied dolefully. "We will wait."

Minutes crept by. Dowornobb decided to venture to the tree line and Kateos insisted on accompanying him. As Dowornobb crept from the shadow of the airplane's wing, he detected movement. Something moved from the shade into the sunlight. An alien! Two-legged, erect and spindly, tiny head covered with golden hair, it waved at them; it beckoned. Dowornobb looked disbelievingly at Kateos, and she at him. They returned their attention back down the hill.

"It brandishes Lollee' s blaster!" Dowornobb shouted. "The aliens have killed Lollee!" Dowornobb raised his weapon, aiming it at the alien. The alien dropped out of sight in the long grasses. The grasses would do nothing to attenuate the beam; Dowornobb started to fire.

"Wait! It could have discharged the blaster at us," Kateos whispered, putting a hand on his arm. "It did not. It is trying to communicate."

"A trick!" Dowornobb exclaimed. "How else would they disarm our comrades?"

"Hold," Kateos said. "Wait here and protect me. I will go forward."

"That is inappropriate, my mate. We proceed together." He lowered the weapon.

"As you wish, my mate." Kateos pointed. "Look! The alien shows itself. Do not aim the blaster."

The alien crouched nervously in bright sunlight, holding the blaster's barrel straight in the air. It wore faded, buff-colored garb with streaks of black-edged crimson smeared across the front. With emphatic intent, the alien threw the weapon to the ground and waved its arms in an agitated manner. It pointed downhill and walked backward into the forest shadows, waving its arms. Kateos fell on all fours and loped toward the mysterious creature.

"Something is amiss!" she shouted. "Et Avian needs our help!"

Dowornobb knew it was a trap, but he could not forsake his mate. He bounded after the headstrong female.

Hudson heard thudding footfalls behind him; his own strides widened in fear. He tried not to look back but could not help himself. One monstrous alien was on his heels. It had fallen into a gentle trot, easily matching his pace. The other giant had stopped to pick up the discarded weapon and was galloping frantically to catch up.

Hudson breathlessly led the aliens down the forested hillside, quickly reaching the clearing, where he found Buccari, sitting in the sun with her back against a tree, dressed only in her thermal underwear. She attended the stricken alien, holding its great head in her lap, the alien's shattered helmet at her side. Buccari had used her jumpsuit as a bandage; the material, black with seeping blood, covered the alien's huge neck and shoulder. Across the clearing, Jones's body lay in the cool shadows, limbs composed and face covered with his fur jacket. Nearby, two cubs fretted and pulled on the carcasses of the destroyed she-bears, whining and mewling.

"You were right, Sharl. They had crewmates—good grief, the smell!" Hudson gasped. "They must of lost control of their bowels!"

Buccari nodded silently, hair falling in her eyes.

"You okay, Sharl?" Hudson asked, glancing over his shoulder. Buccari looked up, wet tracks running down her grimy face. She wiped away tears with the back of a hand.

"We were a team, Nash. Jones and me," she wept. "Jones was. my…"

"I'm sorry, Sharl, but…we got visitors."

Buccari shook the hair from her face and lifted her chin. She sighed heavily, firm resolve returning to her strong features. "Yeah, I guess we have other things to worry about now, don't we?" she said, her voice growing louder. She grimaced in pain.