at risk, jeopardizing the lives of the workers—and for what? Mushrooms?”
She let out her breath and lowered her weapon. “I’d certainly feel safer in camp.”
Wilde scowled. “I wonder if the Scouts have ever had a mutiny.”
Her shoulders sagged with her spirits. Would it come to that? Trace was doing his best—but he didn’t instill confidence the way a leader should. And there was the issue of the skinsuits.
“Well, I was just making sure everyone was at their posts.” Wilde turned to leave. “Be sure to signal if you see something. Don’t take them on alone.”
“Don’t go.” She rushed to block his path. “How is it over there? It sounds like they’re making progress.”
“They’ve cleared about a hectare. The hard part is getting the caps to pop off so the stalks will roll down the hill.”
“That’s a lot of land.” Her brows lifted. “Do we need that many mushrooms?”
“Well, Trace doesn’t know how long this bonfire of his needs to last, does he, so I’d say—” He stopped, one hand up, head cocked as if listening.
Natica heard the difference, too. Shouts turned to screams. An engine revved.
“Come on,” he said.
With her gun clutched to her chest, she followed Wilde down a nonexistent trail. The mid-morning light drew hazy shadows around the undergrowth, causing her to misstep and stumble against trees. The jungle was so thick, she couldn’t see farther than three meters in any direction.
Abruptly, she entered a wide clearing.
She gaped at the devastation. The huge, mushroom trees had fallen. Their trunks were stacked like cordwood. The remains of their caps littered the ground as if there had been an explosion. Multicolored toadstools lay like confetti, pulverized by the treads of the dozers.
Natica leaped over ruts and gullies as she searched for the source of the shouts. Where were the workers she’d talked into this scheme? The colonists she’d promised would be safe?
“This way!” Wilde ran across the clearing.
Ahead, the jungle grew in a solid wall. As they neared it, she discerned shapes within the growth. Mold monsters stood shoulder-to-shoulder in a defensive wedge. They moved as one.
Her step slowed. People shouted and darted across her path. She saw Impani and Cole. Then her gaze switched to a man atop a bulldozer. The engine roared, and the dozer lurched forward, treads churning, blades tilted. He aimed at the creatures.
The wedge opened, flowed around the careening machine, and swallowed it. The sound of the engine rose in pitch as if it, too, were screaming.
Then the dozer reappeared, lifted over the heads of the monsters. They tossed it aside to land blade first in the dirt. She rushed forward, searching in vain for the driver.
Suddenly, the mass broke apart. The monsters moved so quickly they appeared blurred. Natica stared around her. Impani fired her flame gun, her mouth wide with a battle yell. Cole also fired, but his gun sputtered. Out of fuel. He threw down the weapon and took up a machete, hacking at the creature nearest him.
“Get the workers down the hill!” Wilde shouted. “Retreat! Retreat!”
Natica stumbled through the fray. To the side, a woman cartwheeled through the air. Another smashed against a tree.
“Retreat!” Wilde’s voice called.
I should run with the workers. What good would my one gun be against so many?
Then a mold monster turned toward her. With a grimace, she ignited her weapon. The thing sped forward. It was twice her size. She shrouded it in fire then stared in terrified fascination as it continued to advance. Its featureless face loomed over the flames on its body. She turned to run but a second creature was coming up fast.
Natica planted her feet and faced the nearest monster. She opened the gun to full then staggered with the force of the blaze. She risked a glance behind her at the second creature.
The fiery arm of the first monster cut across her vision. She spun sideways, leaped up, and kicked
She let out her breath and lowered her weapon. “I’d certainly feel safer in camp.”
Wilde scowled. “I wonder if the Scouts have ever had a mutiny.”
Her shoulders sagged with her spirits. Would it come to that? Trace was doing his best—but he didn’t instill confidence the way a leader should. And there was the issue of the skinsuits.
“Well, I was just making sure everyone was at their posts.” Wilde turned to leave. “Be sure to signal if you see something. Don’t take them on alone.”
“Don’t go.” She rushed to block his path. “How is it over there? It sounds like they’re making progress.”
“They’ve cleared about a hectare. The hard part is getting the caps to pop off so the stalks will roll down the hill.”
“That’s a lot of land.” Her brows lifted. “Do we need that many mushrooms?”
“Well, Trace doesn’t know how long this bonfire of his needs to last, does he, so I’d say—” He stopped, one hand up, head cocked as if listening.
Natica heard the difference, too. Shouts turned to screams. An engine revved.
“Come on,” he said.
With her gun clutched to her chest, she followed Wilde down a nonexistent trail. The mid-morning light drew hazy shadows around the undergrowth, causing her to misstep and stumble against trees. The jungle was so thick, she couldn’t see farther than three meters in any direction.
Abruptly, she entered a wide clearing.
She gaped at the devastation. The huge, mushroom trees had fallen. Their trunks were stacked like cordwood. The remains of their caps littered the ground as if there had been an explosion. Multicolored toadstools lay like confetti, pulverized by the treads of the dozers.
Natica leaped over ruts and gullies as she searched for the source of the shouts. Where were the workers she’d talked into this scheme? The colonists she’d promised would be safe?
“This way!” Wilde ran across the clearing.
Ahead, the jungle grew in a solid wall. As they neared it, she discerned shapes within the growth. Mold monsters stood shoulder-to-shoulder in a defensive wedge. They moved as one.
Her step slowed. People shouted and darted across her path. She saw Impani and Cole. Then her gaze switched to a man atop a bulldozer. The engine roared, and the dozer lurched forward, treads churning, blades tilted. He aimed at the creatures.
The wedge opened, flowed around the careening machine, and swallowed it. The sound of the engine rose in pitch as if it, too, were screaming.
Then the dozer reappeared, lifted over the heads of the monsters. They tossed it aside to land blade first in the dirt. She rushed forward, searching in vain for the driver.
Suddenly, the mass broke apart. The monsters moved so quickly they appeared blurred. Natica stared around her. Impani fired her flame gun, her mouth wide with a battle yell. Cole also fired, but his gun sputtered. Out of fuel. He threw down the weapon and took up a machete, hacking at the creature nearest him.
“Get the workers down the hill!” Wilde shouted. “Retreat! Retreat!”
Natica stumbled through the fray. To the side, a woman cartwheeled through the air. Another smashed against a tree.
“Retreat!” Wilde’s voice called.
I should run with the workers. What good would my one gun be against so many?
Then a mold monster turned toward her. With a grimace, she ignited her weapon. The thing sped forward. It was twice her size. She shrouded it in fire then stared in terrified fascination as it continued to advance. Its featureless face loomed over the flames on its body. She turned to run but a second creature was coming up fast.
Natica planted her feet and faced the nearest monster. She opened the gun to full then staggered with the force of the blaze. She risked a glance behind her at the second creature.
The fiery arm of the first monster cut across her vision. She spun sideways, leaped up, and kicked
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