"Colonel, overlapping security perimeters have been set up. Sensors have detected only indigenous animal life. Reconnaissance drones will launch as soon as the ceiling lifts, as you ordered."
"Very well," Longo replied. "No more games."
* * *
The winds slackened. A shiftless moon peeked through sodden clouds and then disappeared, leaving the night even darker, and from the blackness fell a miserable drizzle. Humans and hunters, cold and wet, huddled together.
"They got night vision cameras and IR detectors everywhere," MacArthur reported. "We saw ten bugs outside the modules, but they're too far inside the sensor perimeter. We might be able to pick them off in daylight, but it's a tough shot at night."
"We really scared them," Tatum added.
"Is there anyway we can take out the damn sensors?" Buccari asked.
"I've got some ideas—" MacArthur started to say.
Tonto, standing watch on the ridge, whistled softly. "Listen," Tatum whispered urgently.
In the distance, an angry high-pitched engine erupted into life.
* * *
"We've found them, Colonel," the subordinate reported. "They are near—within mortar range. Mortar crews are prepared."
Longo had not expected success so quickly. He turned up the temperature on his Genellan suit and moved quickly through the airlock hatch into the frigid darkness. The drones were controlled from the reconnaissance module housed in the last of the four landers in line. Walking across the soggy ash, Longo noted shadowy figures standing guard at the foot of each lander. Two separate groups of technicians, standing clear of the landers, huddled about their equipment, a silver-green luminescence from their electronics outlining their forms. Other soldiers remained inside the modules, out of the elements but on alert should any movement be detected within the perimeter. After hiking the full length of the secure area, Longo and his retinue boarded thereconnaissance module and moved into its cramped lab. Technicians came to attention.
"Carry on!" Longo ordered. "Where are they?"
Longo looked at the video with morbid satisfaction. The aliens showed as a cluster of fuzzy hot spots nestled within dark, cold, vertically-viewed vegetation. Occasionally, an extended arm or leg could be clearly perceived, as the hunted creatures milled about beneath the drone's camera.
"Do the mortar teams have telemetry?" Longo asked.
"Yes, most excellent Colonel!" the senior technician gushed. "Gravity, what are you waiting for?" Longo shouted. The images were dispersing.
"Y-y-your . . . your order to fire, most excel—"the subordinate said.
"Fire!" Longo screamed. "Fire! You idiot!"
The subordinate blurted commands into his radio, and a pair of hollow thumps sounded immediately. Mortar rounds sped into the night.
* * *
The angry engine hovered high over their heads, invisible in the night sky. Buccari squinted into the falling mists but to no avail.
"Move out, now!" Shannon ordered. He scrambled up the rise to see what was happening. Buccari followed, while MacArthur ran at the cliff dwellers, herding them, giving them panicky signals to move away from the area. They needed little inducement.
"Spread out and take cover uphill!" Shannon barked.
"What's the deal, Sarge?" Buccari said. "Can't we shoot it down?"
"Hell, can you see it?" Shannon asked, craning his neck to peer into the night. "Sounds like two of them. You better get moving, sir. Now!"
Burping gouts of flame erupted from the vicinity of the alien landers.
"Aw, shit!" Shannon exclaimed. "Everybody down! Incoming!" he bellowed into the night. The sergeant threw Buccari violently to the soggy ground, crushing her body with his own. Buccari's wind was knocked from her lungs, and her face was pushed into the muddy humus. She gasped for air. Suddenly the night was filled with shrill, screaming whistles. Explosions thundered into the ground, and Buccari felt Shannon's body jolt. The sergeant groaned softly and then was quiet.
"Damn, you're heavy, Sarge," Buccari grunted, struggling to breathe. No answer. No movement. Buccari heard the drone buzzing overhead and then more demonic whistles. The ground heaved violently, and Shannon's body twitched spasmodically as the blasts rolled over them, and then she felt the man's blood, warm and wet. Frantic, she wriggled out from under the grotesquely limp body and staggered to her feet.
"Oh, Sarge! No, Sarge!" Buccari still on her knees, wept. Shannon was dead, his back ripped open by shards of hot metal. She looked around, dazed, her ears ringing with concussion. The irritating noise of the drone pushed its way into her consciousness. Anger welled within her. The drone seemed closer. She looked up, and there it was—a hard, black form, a darker hole in the dark skies, hovering off to the side. She grabbed Shannon's assault rifle and snapped it to her shoulder. Exhaling, she aimed and fired a burst, pulling the sights across the target.