The Earth is a distant memory, abandoned by humanity during a time of ecological catastrophe millennia ago. Humankind’s descendants found a new home on a world they named Nova Prime. There they thrived and grew, until the arrival of an aggressive alien species humans dubbed the Skrel, who attacked the survivors relentlessly for years. But humankind fought back with unfailing determination, led by the valiant United Ranger Corps, and resisted the Skrel’s best attempts to wipe them out. The war persisted off and on over centuries, and then the Skrel genetically engineered a weapon of mass destruction—one that would test Ranger determination and resourcefulness like no other.

The Ursa lunged, its mouth wide and slavering, letting out a deafening roar designed to paralyze its prey upon attack.

On first sight, it seemed to be nothing but mouth. Its gaping maw could easily have swallowed Daniel Silver whole. If chewing was required, that wouldn’t be an issue, since its mouth was crammed with massive fangs. It propelled itself forward on twisted, muscular legs, its talons providing it traction on any terrain.

It was the most formidable, devastating predator on the whole of Nova Prime, and it was bearing down on Daniel with the speed and force of a hurricane.

Without hesitation and unfazed by the creature’s speed, Daniel brought his pulser to bear. He was in a partial crouch in order to gain greater steadiness, and he held the pulser in a firm, double-handed grip. His eyes narrowed slightly and he fired off half a dozen quick shots. The Ursa attempted to dodge them, but Daniel adjusted without even thinking about it, each blast hitting home with unerring accuracy.

The Ursa flipped over onto its back. Its legs trembled violently as it let out an ululating howl of agony, and then with one final wail, a death rattle sounded in the creature’s throat.

Suddenly the Ursa began to flicker. A faint buzzing noise accompanied the flickering.

And the monster disappeared.

Daniel twirled the pulser a few times before sliding it into the holster on his hip. There were a few appreciative whistles and a smattering of applause, and Daniel bowed in response.

There were many sharpshooting ranges throughout the city. It was a leftover from the more militaristic days of Nova Prime, when everyone was expected to be proficient in small-arms fire. Recent generations had come to rely more heavily on the Rangers, whose training had become more refined and Ursa-centric, thus allowing the balance of the population to pursue less violent vocations. Nevertheless, weapons practice was ingrained into the mentality of the Novans; you couldn’t be too prepared for an Ursa incursion, after all, and even the Rangers couldn’t be everywhere. The range where Daniel preferred to practice was one of the smaller ones in Nova Prime City, but its technology was absolutely state-of-the-art. Like many of the larger ranges, it carried a sizable selection of holographic targets for users to choose from, but there was no denying that the most popular of them all was the Ursa.

Daniel and the other shooters were standing behind a counter that ran the length of the gallery. The holographic targets were on the other side and would snap into existence at random moments, charging at equally random times from different directions. Glowing numbers at the far end of the range displayed each shooter’s success rate, and Daniel’s was the only one at 100 percent.

Daniel was over six feet tall, so long and lean that his teen years had been hellish. He’d been constantly tripping over his own feet until his body finally got itself sorted out. Now in his early twenties, he had brown hair so long and shaggy that he sometimes tied it back to keep it out of his eyes. He was all wiry muscle that seemed to develop naturally without his doing the slightest thing in the way of working out. His most charming asset was his ready smile, which he flashed now at the others who were complimenting him on his accuracy.

“You are incredible, Danny,” one of them said. “No Ursa stands a chance with you.”

“I know, I know. It’s a gift. What can I say?”

“You can say it doesn’t mean a thing.”

It was Tucker who had spoken. Tucker, the guy who owned the place. Short, squat, and barrel-chested, he walked slowly toward his customers. He had no choice in the speed of his gait; his right leg was artificial, causing him to lurch sideways. “Sure,” he continued, “you can pat yourself on the back and talk about how great you are and take all the bows you want. But all the pulser blasts in the world won’t slow down an Ursa. Not in real life. I know because years ago, I was as stupid as any of you, and when I ran into one of those things I figured I could handle it. And I was damned lucky that it only got my leg, because I wouldn’t have lasted more than another second at most. And if the Rangers hadn’t shown up just before that second, there’d be no one standing here to tell you idiots that you shouldn’t get too damned cocky. Fun and games are fine, but this”—he gestured around the shooting range—“that’s all this is. So don’t any of you get any fool notions in your head about taking on one of these in real life just because you can pop a few good shots in its head in the comfort and safety of a shooting range. Because you know nothing about nothing. Understood?”

Heads bobbed in response and there were mutters of “Yes, sir.”

Daniel’s smile didn’t come quite so readily as he put the pulser down, feeling an unaccustomed sense of chagrin. But he quickly brushed it aside. Daniel had never been much for allowing himself to be brought down, or at least not for long. It just wasn’t in his nature.

So his smile quickly returned, and that seemed to annoy the hell out of Tucker. “Did you hear anything I said, Danny? Does anything matter to you?”

And the smile broadened even more. “Ohhh, yeah. One thing. And that’s more than enough. In fact… I feel like I have to tell someone. So I’m telling you, Tuck…”

“Me? And to what do I owe this honor?”

“Because you’re the closest thing I have to a friend. So here it is: I’m proposing to Ronna.”

“You are?”

“Yup.”

Tucker put out a hand and shook Daniel’s firmly. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. Who the hell is Ronna?”

“I’ve told you about her. You must’ve forgotten…”

“I don’t forget a thing, Danny. You’ve never mentioned a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. I just figured you were, what do you call it… a hermoglodyte.”

“I have no freaking clue what that is.”

“It’s someone who doesn’t care about either sex.”

“Kind of doubt that, but in any event, that’s not me.” He paused, his eyebrows knitting. “Did I really never tell you about her?”

“Not a word.”

Daniel thought about it and then smiled again. “Well… maybe I just kind of liked keeping her to myself. Plus, you know, I tell you about her and then you’re always asking how she is, and it becomes a thing.”

“A thing?”

“A whole thing, yeah. And time goes by and you’re asking me how we’re doing, and if we’re talking about getting married, and all that stuff.”

Tucker stared at him. “Daniel… out of curiosity, in your own mind, just how much time do you think I spend giving a damn about your personal life?”

“Probably none.”

“Try definitely none. Propose, don’t propose. I absolutely could not care less.”

“That’s good to know, Tuck,” said Daniel, and he strode out with that typical sway of his. Tucker watched him go and then shook his head.

“It’ll never last.”

The city was finally shaking off a lengthy heat wave, and consequently a welcome breeze was wafting through and taking much of the humidity with it. The smart fabric that composed the curved walls of the apartment was allowing the evening breeze to flow through it while keeping out the humidity. The apartment itself was sparsely furnished, the living room decorated with simple, curved chairs and a round table in the kitchen area. Daniel was looking in the other direction, gazing out through a window at the glowing residences of Nova Prime City that studded the landscape, a glittering testament to the resilience of humanity.

Across the room, Ronna was sitting at the table, picking at the remains of the dinner she’d prepared. She was quiet this evening, which was rather unusual for her. Normally, she was the chattiest person Daniel had ever known.

Finally, she broke the silence. Sounding as indifferent as someone could when they were relaying information, she said, “Someone called and left a message for you.”

“Oh, yes? Who?”

“A guy named Ryerson.”

Daniel thought about it a moment. He wasn’t familiar with anyone named Ryerson. Except…

“Not Sigmund Ryerson.”

“That’s it. You know him?”

“I know of him. He’s some well-to-do eccentric guy. Why would he be calling me?”

“He said he heard you were one of the best trackers in the city. He wants to go on an expedition.”

“What kind?”

She looked at him levelly. “He said he wants to track down and kill an Ursa. Be the oldest non-Ranger on record to kill an Ursa.”

Daniel was having trouble believing what she was saying. “Go out of his way to push his luck with an Ursa? That’s nuts.”

“You did say eccentric. Besides, you’re a good shot.”

“Yeah, but it’s like what Tucker was saying earlier today: Blowing apart an Ursa in the privacy of a shooting gallery is one thing. Going in and maybe getting yourself killed… who needs that?”

“Okay, well, I told you that he contacted you, or tried to. The rest is up to you.”

“That’s fine, but I really don’t have any plans to get myself killed, so…” He shrugged.

She returned to picking at the remains of her food as if the preceding discussion had never happened.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Every day that he was with her was a blessing.

“I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to have you in my life,” he said, giving voice to his thoughts.

Ronna smiled, but it looked strained. She patted the table across from her. “Could you sit down, Daniel?”

“Sure can. My knees bend and everything.” He did so eagerly, sitting with his fingers interlaced. “Actually, there’s something I want to talk to you about. I’ve been thinking a lot about our relationship.”

“Have you?”

“Yeah. Do you ever think about the night we met? At the bar?”

“Occasionally.”

“There was that guy who was bothering you, and I was the bouncer and told him to knock it off. And he beat the crap out of me, which got me fired, and then you took me back here to take care of me…”

“Yes, Daniel, yes,” she said with vague impatience. “I remember. I was there. Is there a point to this?”

“The point is that even if it hadn’t been my job, I’d still have jumped in to help you.”

“That’s…” She closed her eyes for a moment, looking pained. “That’s nice to know.” He should have noticed it, should have realized that her mind was in a totally different place from his. But he didn’t.

“But here’s the thing…”

“There’s a thing?”

“You’re not happy.”

She actually seemed surprised to hear him say it. “You know?”

“Sure I know. And I know why. It’s because I haven’t been willing to commit to you. And it’s crazy of me not to, because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“No, I’m not,” she said, shaking her head vigorously. “I’m really not.”

“Yes, you are.” He slid the chair back, came around the table, and, to her confusion, dropped to one knee. He took her hand and, with as much reverence as he could muster, said, “I can’t afford a ring right now, but listen to me…”

“Daniel…”

“Ronna, for as long as I’ve—”

“Daniel, I need you to leave.”

He remained exactly where he was, his brain trying to wrap itself around what she had just said. He didn’t let go of her hand initially. “You mean… you need me to go out and pick up something for you? Because if that’s it then, sweetie, you know… not the best time because I was kind of in the middle of something here. So if you could just wait—”

“This can’t wait, and I know what you’re in the middle of. And yes, you’re right, I’ve been unhappy, but it’s not why you think.” She’d tried to pull her hand away moments earlier but hadn’t managed it. This time she did so with much greater force and freed her hand. He didn’t lower his; instead it just remained there in the air, as if he was trying to grasp something that wasn’t there.

“Daniel, I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and we need to stop seeing each other.”

He still hadn’t fully processed it. “For how long?”

“For good. I need you to move out.”

“But why? I mean, I knew you were distant… I knew you were unhappy… but I figured you were waiting for me to propose or something!”

“If that’s what I was waiting for, I would have been dropping hints. I haven’t been doing that.”

“Okay, but… you haven’t been dropping hints about anything. How was I supposed to know—?”

“You weren’t. It’s not you, Daniel. I swear it’s not you. It’s me.”

“I’m not stupid, Ronna. Saying it’s you is really code for saying it’s me.”

“Daniel, listen: You’re nice. You’re sweet…”

“Both good reasons to dump me.”

“… but you have no direction! I mean, God, you can’t even stick with a hobby!”

He was about to protest that characterization, but in looking around the apartment, he realized he couldn’t. There was the half-finished sculpture of Ronna, thick with dust, from the time he was going to be an artist. Also dusty was the violin in the corner, a reminder of his broken resolve to become a musician. These and a dozen or so other unfinished, abortive projects that he’d never seen to fruition.

He gestured helplessly. “To hell with the hobbies. I want to stick with you!”

“So that I can keep enabling you! So I can keep making you feel better about going nowhere. You keep telling me how your parents said that you had no direction, no plan for your life.”

“Right! And you said they were being needlessly cruel.”

“No. They were trying to help. I see that now.”

“Ronna,” he said in frustration, “I can change—”

“Don’t start, Daniel, because we both know you can’t. Or won’t. We’ve had variations of this conversation at least three times in the past year alone, and you nod and smile and say you’ll change, and you never do. And you’ve managed to convince me that you never can.”

His eyes narrowed. “Is there someone else? Are you dumping me for someone else?”

“No. But what I’m convinced of, Daniel, is that there’s someone else out there for me that I won’t have to push into making something of himself, because he’ll have the drive to do it on his own.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’re always going to mean a great deal to me, Daniel, but I can’t be your support system anymore. It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to me. You can send for your stuff once you’ve settled wherever you’re going to be, but I need you to leave. Now.”

His mouth moved and finally words managed to catch up. Barely above a whisper, he said, “I… I can’t believe you hate me this much…”

“I don’t hate you, Daniel,” she said with a sigh. “I just feel sorry for you. Is that how you want to live? With someone who feels sorry for you?”

If it means not losing you? Yes. A million times yes.

But he didn’t say that. Instead all he said was, “I have nowhere to go.”

“I honestly hope, Daniel, that you find a path because… as much as I hate saying it… you’ve been going nowhere for a long time.”

Long after he walked out into the darkness of the streets of Nova Prime, those words were still ringing in his ears.

Sigmund Ryerson was seated in his office behind his expansive desk, studying requests for funding that had come through the Savant in the Science Guild. He liked science. He liked the discovery of things, and to see what humankind was capable of accomplishing if only given the opportunity to do so.

Then came a gentle knock upon his office door. He did not respond with words, but simply looked up curiously. His gray, owl-like eyebrows knit as he gazed at his assistant, Myers, with an unspoken question upon his face.

“A Daniel Silver to see you, sir.”

Ryerson frowned even more deeply and ran his hand along his smooth pate. “That name sounds familiar…”

“Your expedition, sir.”

“Oh, of course.” Ryerson snapped his fingers with impatience. “I swear, I’m going senile, Myers. Send him in, by all means.”

At which time the most bedraggled, devastated-looking individual Ryerson had ever had the misfortune to see walked through the door. He looked like he’d gone three rounds with death and come up the loser, but was too blind to realize it.

“Let me guess,” said Ryerson before Daniel could even get a word out. “Your girl dumped you?”

Daniel blinked in clear shock. “How did you—?”

“Know?” Ryerson chuckled, a deep, throaty laugh. “Son, when you’ve been around as long as I have, there’s not much you don’t know. Every expression, happy or sad, exultant or devastated, that I’ve ever seen in my life has—at some point—been on my face as well. That’s what you get for living longer than most of your peers. And the she-broke-my-heart look is one I know all too well. Back when I was a young man, Lord knows I saw that expression enough in the mirror. Trust me, when you get older, your priorities change. Sit down, sit down. Make yourself at home.”

Daniel slumped into the chair that had been indicated.

“I’m not going to insult your intelligence, son,” Ryerson went on, “and tell you that there’ll be another girl along, one who will appreciate you in a way that this other girl never did.”

“I don’t blame her for not appreciating me,” said Daniel in a hollow voice that would have been the envy of a spirit emerging from the grave. “I’m not worth appreciating.”

Ryerson shook his head and laughed once more. “Boy, she did a serious number on your head. And—correct me if I’m wrong—but I’m guessing that you’ve come to me because you want to do something about shaking that number out, am I right? Namely, coming along on my little trip.”

“How many on this excursion, anyway?”

“Seven men lined up. Some of the best sharpshooters on Nova Prime. And me makes eight. Now, I’ve heard great things about you, Silver. That you are a superb marksman, which naturally is of vast importance. Also an excellent athlete. And, most important, a superb tracker. Ursa have such fantastic powers of camouflage that we need someone along who can tell when we’re deep in their territory. From all accounts provided me by various men whose word I trust—men who have hired you for their own hunting expeditions—that would be you.”

“Yeah, but I’ve never been on an Ursa-hunting expedition. Whatever else you may have hunted, I can assure you that Ursa are something else entirely.”

“I’m something else entirely, too, Silver,” he said with a broad smile. “My preparations will be completely thorough. I’ve spared no expense. I’m told you have rugged determination, abundant confidence, and a devil-may-care attitude. That’s exactly the type of man I’m looking for. And if you were to come along, be our guide, that would make it a nice even eight in the party.”

“Eight’s my favorite even number, sir.”

“I think you’ll find my payment quite generous.”

“I don’t give a damn about your payment, sir. When are we doing this?”

“My little party is set to head out two days from now.”

“Then just let me stay here for two days and we’ll call it even.”

“You, sir”—Ryerson stood up and extended a hand—“have yourself a deal.”

Daniel shook it. It was thick and sandpapery, the hand of a man who was not the least bit daunted by heavy labor. For some reason, Daniel took comfort in that. The expedition being proposed was hardly one to be undertaken by a man who had lived a soft life.

“And as for your girl,” said Ryerson, “here’s my best advice: Don’t worry about her. Women are like buses: There’s always a new one coming along.”

“That’s comforting to know, sir.” Then he hesitated and said, “What’s a ‘bus’?”

“Some old Earth thing. How about a drink?”

“That would be excellent.”

They drank some of the best alcohol that Daniel had ever tasted. Ryerson’s private stock, or so he was told. Feeling the hot liquid burning down his throat, Daniel tried to convince himself that everything was going to be all right. That Ryerson would be correct and a new girl, a better girl, would come along. One who wouldn’t shred every bit of his self-confidence as if it were Ursa chow.

And when he finally had had enough to drink and was led to the bedchamber where he would be staying, he collapsed into the bed and resolved to dream about Ronna. Because if he couldn’t have her, at least he could dream of her as he had so many times before, even when she was lying right next to him.

There were no dreams of her that night, though, and it was only upon waking in the morning that Daniel realized that she was really, truly, and completely gone.

The Tangredi Jungle was situated on the other side of the planet from Nova Prime City, although high-speed transport made it fairly easy to get to. Normally it was a popular place with hikers and campers, but there had been recent reports of killings that could only be attributed to Ursa. Bodies ripped apart, or devoured with just bits of bone and flesh left to indicate that they had ever been there at all. Consequently, the Rangers had declared the area completely off limits to citizens of Nova Prime. It was an edict that made perfect sense; no reasonable individual would even think of disobeying it. The Rangers patrolled the area with some regularity, so you would have thought that any sort of hunting party through the Tangredi was an act of insanity. If the Ursa didn’t get you, the Rangers bloody well would.

This was a prospect that didn’t deter Ryerson in the least.

Daniel wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. What possible reason could there be for a man as high up on the food chain as Ryerson to risk being arrested, not to mention perhaps slain by an Ursa? It just didn’t make any sense to Daniel.

None of which changed the fact that he was busy crawling around on the ground, looking for some sign that an Ursa had been through the area recently; perhaps hours earlier.

Ryerson was leaning over Daniel’s shoulder, watching him with intense curiosity. Daniel was clad in an up-to-date camouflage outfit, as were all of them. It seemed only fair, after all. The Ursa were fully capable of blending in seamlessly with their backgrounds, so why shouldn’t human pursuers have that same advantage?

Ryerson’s hired hunters were spread out through the jungle, but they were not so unwise as to be in a position where the Ursa could pick them off one by one. Instead they were moving in groups of two, covering each other’s backs. To counteract the reputed camouflage abilities of the Ursa, each of their pulser rifles—nothing less would do the job—was equipped with a thermal sighting device. This should give the group a drop on any overconfident Ursa operating on the mistaken assumption that their camouflage would protect them.

“You closing in on one of the bastards, Silver?”

“I’m seeing definite signs, sir. Like right here.” He tapped a small pile of dirt in front of him.

Ryerson looked puzzled. “Like what there?”

“Ursa bury their feces. Makes them tougher to track, or presumably they think so. The result is little dirt mounds that look just like this. Also I’ve seen traces of what looks like the talons of an Ursa in the dirt. I could be wrong. It could be some other predator, one considerably less dangerous.”

“But you don’t believe that to be the case.”

“No, sir, I do not,” he said firmly.

“Good lad. Looks like I made the right choice,” Ryerson said with a degree of self-satisfaction. “You certainly know a great deal about them.”

“I read a lot,” he said, his voice flat. He paused and then said, “Mr. Ryerson, what are we doing out here? I mean, really? Are you—?”

“Am I what?” When Daniel didn’t respond immediately, Ryerson cracked a smile. “Did I just get a diagnosis from my doctor that my time’s up? Or am I terminally suicidal and depressed? Something like that?”

“Something like, yeah.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, son.” Ryerson thumped his chest. “But I’m in the pink of health. Nothing wrong, at least that I know of.”

“Then why?”

“Because it’s the next thing.”

“The next—?”

“The next thing I want to do. The next challenge that I could find. That’s how you get somewhere, son: by seeing what remains to be done and then doing it. I want to be the oldest non-Ranger who has ever managed to kill an Ursa. If you ask me—which admittedly no one did, but that’s never stopped me before—the Rangers are a bunch of arrogant, overconfident smug fools. Telling people where they can and can’t go. Acting as if they are our only hope against the Ursa. I believe in self-reliance, Silver. Never a big fan of having someone else doing things on my behalf when I never asked them to, and then acting as if I owe them all some huge debt of gratitude. To hell with the Rangers. If you want a dead Ursa, then do it yourself. That’s what I say.”

“Well, I’ll certainly do my best to help you achieve your goal.”

“And what about you?”

Daniel was continuing to study the ground and was only listening with half an ear. “What about me what?”

“Feeling better about the girl trying to push you out of her life?”

“I don’t care.”

“That’s the spirit!”

“No, you don’t understand.” He turned to look at Ryerson. “I don’t care about anything. I’m nothing without her. Hell, I was nothing with her.”

“Come on, Silver!” He chucked him on the shoulder. “Nothing good ever came from feeling sorry for yourself!”

I don’t feel sorry for myself. I don’t feel anything. That’s the point.

“You’re right, sir,” he said, trying his best to provide some degree of emotion to his voice. “I’ll try to remember th—”

That was when the deafening roar of the Ursa sounded through the clearing.

Ryerson jumped, startled. Daniel remained utterly calm, not providing any sort of visible reaction. To him, there was no reason for there to be any reaction. He had expected this the entire time. When you were leading people into the belly of the beast, there was no reason to be startled when the beast made its presence known. Indeed, he found Ryerson’s shock and alarm to be mildly entertaining. What did you expect, old man?

It was impossible to tell from which direction the animal’s defiant roar had originated as it echoed through the clearing. It seemed to be coming from all sides at once. Quickly Ryerson activated the wrist communications unit that would keep him in touch with his hunters. “Nickerson! Philips! Chang! Anyone! Report!”

The response was a babble of shouts, one overlapping the next.

“No sighting yet, but the foliage is rustling—”

“There’s definitely one of them out here—”

“Could be two or three!”

“Something’s moving!”

“I don’t see any—oh my God!”

Shots fired. A truncated scream.

“This is Vale! Creighton’s down! I saw it tear his head off!”

“Maintain position, Vale, we’re coming!”

“Screw that! I’m out of—!”

The second, higher-pitched scream, Vale’s, wasn’t preceded by any pulser blasts at all. He hadn’t managed to get off any shots. He’d only had time to die.

It was complete chaos. Ryerson was spinning like a top, hearing death and destruction all around him, not knowing in which direction to look. Another roar, two more screams. Marsh and Inigo, by the sounds of it. Ryerson had hired some of the best hunters on Nova Prime, and the Ursa—for what else could it be?—was picking them off effortlessly.

“What the hell is this thing?”

“I am not dying out here!” came a terrified declaration from Chang, right before he was proven wrong. He managed to get off three shots, a personal best for the group, before his death scream erupted over the comm unit.

Ryerson was encountering a severe depletion of nerve. His face was the color of curdled milk, his eyes wide with horror. He fired several random shots around him into the jungle. The only result that came over the comm unit was a startled yelp from what sounded like Nickerson, yelling, “I’m shot! What idiot shot me?” right before the roar of the Ursa sounded and Nickerson shrieked like a baby demanding to be fed. Then Nickerson’s comm unit went dead, along with Nickerson himself.

“Silver, do something! Get me out of here!” Ryerson’s voice was just above a whisper, his throat constricted. Everything was happening so quickly. It had been barely a minute since the Ursa had first made its presence known, and it was ripping through his entire hunting party with hellacious speed. Ryerson clearly hadn’t yet been able to fully grasp what was happening.

Daniel simply looked at him with bland disinterest. “What is it about having a lot of money that makes people feel they are invincible?”

Ryerson shook his head in denial. “If that’s what you thought, then why did you come? Are you suicidal?”

“No. Not especially.” Daniel shrugged.

Suddenly a tree at the outer edge of the clearing shattered into splinters and there was the Ursa towering over them, not ten feet away. Several pieces of human bone were lodged in its teeth, and its muzzle dripped with blood and gore.

In the face of his impending demise, Ryerson—to his credit—did not flinch. The shrieks and the cries of death all around him had been overwhelming when he was dealing with things he couldn’t see. Now that he was face-to-face with the foe, Ryerson rose to the occasion. It wasn’t bravery so much as it was pure, gut-roiling desperation as he dashed diagonally across the clearing, firing his pulser repeatedly. “Die, you son of a bitch, die!” he shrieked as he fired over and over again.

The Ursa seemed more curious about him than anything, as if bewildered by this foolish little creature that thought it had the slightest chance against him. The pulser blasts rebounded off its hide. The direct hits actually left small scorch marks where they struck, but that was all. The beast didn’t rock back or acknowledge the impact in any way. It just stood there, absorbing the assault, like a parent waiting patiently for a child to finish its tantrum before taking full control of its errant offspring.

For five seconds that seemed as if they stretched into five minutes, the Ursa simply took it.

Then it disappeared.

Daniel, mildly curious about the outcome, had the calmness of mind to see a faint shimmer rippling across the landscape. Ryerson, by contrast, could not keep his panic and confusion in check. He whipped his pulser back and forth frantically while shouting, “Come out here and get what’s coming to you, you bastard! What’s the matter? Can’t take any more?”

My God, he actually thinks he was doing well against it.

Ryerson never saw the Ursa drop its camouflage and shimmer into visibility directly behind him. Daniel could have shouted out a warning, but he didn’t bother. It was just prolonging the inevitable anyway.

Ryerson had no time to react as the Ursa’s maw enveloped him down to the waist. His scream was muffled and then silenced as the monster’s jaws slammed together with a sound like an ax chopping into the side of the tree. Ryerson was bitten clean in half. The creature tilted its head back and Ryerson’s head, arms, and torso all vanished into its gullet. His lower body actually stood there for a moment, looking ludicrous, before it collapsed. It lay on the ground, the remains of Ryerson’s internal organs seeping out and soaking the ground in red.

Then the Ursa made a deep coughing sound, like a cat about to toss up a hairball. Sure enough, its mouth opened wide, and it regurgitated Ryerson. The man’s upper half had already been partly processed by whatever stomach acids passed for the Ursa’s digestive system, and it was scarcely recognizable as human, much less Ryerson.

“Guess it doesn’t do well with rich foods,” Daniel said morbidly.

The comment caused the Ursa’s head to snap around. The creature had no eyes, but it appeared to be looking right at him. It had doubtless reacted to the sound of his voice.

Daniel just stood there and stared at it. He wasn’t going to provide the Ursa any more free guidance by speaking, but he wasn’t especially concerned by the fact that it was looking his way.

He remembered the stories about how, when death is imminent, your life flashes before your eyes. Daniel waited for that to happen.

And it did, sort of.

The disapproving looks from his parents when he failed class after class. The stern anger from his father when he’d thrown him out once he’d turned eighteen, telling him that if he was going to get anywhere, he’d have to be on his own to do it, because otherwise he had no motivation. His mother standing there, sobbing, but doing nothing to countermand her husband’s actions. There he was, crashing with various friends, getting on their nerves with his aimlessness, going from job to job, holding none of them, putting together no savings, wearing out his welcome again and again, always seeing that same look of disappointment.

And he hadn’t cared.

The only one he’d ever cared about was Ronna, and eventually that same expression had been on her face as well. It didn’t matter what the Ursa did to him; he was already dead, killed by that disappointed look.

Nothing matters without her. And I don’t matter; she made that clear.

The Ursa slowly approached him, but it looked confused, as if—without the guidance of his voice—it couldn’t tell where he was. Its foul breath washed over Daniel, and it was all he could do not to choke or gag or make some other sound that would surely pinpoint his presence for the Ursa.

Despite his indifference to his fate, Daniel couldn’t help but be intrigued by what was happening. He was there, right there, in front of the Ursa, yet it seemed unable to zero in on him. Daniel held his breath, not for fear of being discovered and killed, but out of curiosity as to how long he could elude detection simply by doing nothing at all.

He had no idea how much time passed as they just stood there, predator and prey. The Ursa seemed confused and frustrated, certain there was something there but unable to figure out where it was.

Daniel realized he was still holding his pulser rifle in his right hand. He’d seen close-up how useless the weapon was against the Ursa. No wonder the Rangers used a techno-bladed weapon called a cutlass: The techno-filaments were so sharp that it was claimed a Ranger wielding this weapon could cut off your arm even if his thrust missed; supposedly the wind from the miss alone would get the job done. Daniel doubted this was true, but he knew from what he’d observed firsthand that pulsers did nothing against the creatures, while the pulser-less Rangers had many kills under their belts, so they must be doing something right.

Very slowly, just to see what would happen, Daniel leaned left, then right. The Ursa made no corresponding reaction. My God, it really can’t see me. At all. Emboldened, he cocked the triggering mechanism of the pulser and then lobbed the ineffective weapon to his right. It landed ten feet away and, upon impact, went off.

Instantly the Ursa lunged toward the rifle, landing squarely upon it with its huge, taloned paws. Rather than try to depart the area, Daniel remained where he was, watching the Ursa with something that seemed utterly inappropriate to the situation: amusement.

Suddenly the Ursa’s head snapped up. It let out a furious roar and for an instant Daniel wondered if somehow it had perceived him.

And then the entire clearing was alive with activity. It was a squad of Rangers, coming in from all sides, including one who leaped directly in front of Daniel, shoving him off his feet. “Get down!” ordered the Ranger.

“You get down! I was fine!” Daniel snapped at him, but nevertheless he remained on the ground. An Ursa he could handle; Rangers were officious jerks. No point in antagonizing them.

The Rangers converged on the Ursa, cutlasses at the ready. The Ursa didn’t know which way to “look” first, its head snapping left and right. The Rangers moved with a fluidity that impressed even the cynical Daniel. They slashed, jabbed, attacked, and then retreated while others moved in to take their place. Daniel remembered, in one of the many courses he’d ultimately failed, reading about prehistoric humankind back on Earth, when hunting parties of men would assault creatures many times their size using their spears and their sheer numbers to accomplish their goal. Daniel suspected that it was much like this: attacking from many directions, then pulling back, and then assaulting their prey once more so that the animal wasted its energy defending the feints while being wounded by the strikes that did land.

A dozen seeping wounds had appeared all over the Ursa’s hide. It tried to disappear, to hide behind its camouflage, but the Rangers would have none of it, anticipating its path and striking even though they were only approximating where it was. Yet somehow they managed to hit home with their attacks.

Finally the creature let out a roar so thunderous that the ground under Daniel’s feet seemed to shake. Then, gathering the power in its haunches, the Ursa leaped straight up, high over their heads, its trajectory carrying it deep into the brush. Seconds later it was gone.

“Secure the perimeter,” said the Ranger who appeared to be in charge. “Make sure no other damned fools decide that hunting an Ursa is a game for amateurs.” With this comment, he looked disdainfully at Daniel.

“Don’t glare at me, big man,” Daniel replied laconically. “I was just the hired help. This wasn’t my party.”

“Then whose?”

“Ryerson.”

“Sigmund Ryerson?”

“The very same.”

“He’s under arrest, then. Where is he?”

“There,” said Daniel, nodding in one direction, and then gesturing in the other, “and there.”

The Rangers saw on opposite sides of the clearing the regurgitated remains of Ryerson’s upper half and what was left of his lower half. Several wrinkled their faces in disgust.

The officer stared at him for a long time. Then he turned to his subordinates and said, “Call in a detail to clean up this mess. And have him”—he pointed to Daniel—“brought to my office.”

“Sir, yes sir,” they chorused.

Office? Why his office? If they’re going to arrest me, why not just clap me in jail and then schedule an appearance before a magistrate? An office makes it sound as if we have something to talk about. What could we possibly have to talk about?

“You’re a Ghost.”

The ranking officer who had told his people to bring Daniel to his office had introduced himself as Captain Freed. He had black hair that was graying at the temples, and the air of someone who looked older than he was. Daniel had chosen to remain standing when Freed had entered and, despite Freed’s invitation to do so, Daniel had declined to sit. Freed shrugged when Daniel stayed on his feet, and then went around to the far side of his desk and sat. Daniel considered this a small triumph for some reason. He was standing, Freed was sitting. Freed was in a subordinate position to him. I win. It was a small, petty victory, but Daniel took whatever victories he could get. He felt smug and in charge, right up until Freed came at him with this total non sequitur, at which point Daniel just stared at him in confusion.

“I’m a what?”

“A Ghost,” Freed repeated.

“Well, obviously I’m not, since I’m still alive.” Daniel spoke slowly, syllable for syllable, as if addressing an idiot.

Freed didn’t appear to appreciate the tone, but he pushed past it. “Do you know how Ursa track their victims?”

“Since they don’t have eyes, you mean? I’ve read that they have a powerful sense of smell, and that guides them.”

“That’s more or less correct,” said Freed, tilting his chair back while steepling his fingers. “But if that’s the case, why didn’t the Ursa catch your scent and attack?”

Daniel shrugged. He really hadn’t given it any thought.

“In the case of their prey, Ursa smell the release of pheromones generated by fear. They home in on fear and destroy the source. If, on the other hand, you can completely control your fear—or if you literally have no fear, for that matter—then you can effectively be invisible to an Ursa. It won’t be able to perceive you. You’ll be like—”

“A ghost.”

“Exactly. It’s a very rare ability. Our Rangers are as brave as humans can be, but to be able to disconnect from fear… it’s a rare gift. And it’s obvious that for whatever reason—temperament, happenstance, or simply the way your brain is wired—you possess it.”

Despite his general distaste for the Rangers, Daniel found himself intrigued by what the captain was telling him. “Yeah? And just out of curiosity, exactly how many people have this gift?”

“Counting you?”

“Sure.”

“Two.”

Let it be a girl. Let her be gorgeous. Please tell me I have to breed with her to produce a race of fearless baby Rangers. “Who’s the other?”

“A Ranger named Cypher Raige.”

“Cypher?” Daniel looked skeptically at Freed. “What the hell kind of name is Cypher?”

“Well, I suggest next time you see him, you ask him that, and when he pushes your teeth down the back of your throat, you’ll have your answer.”

He. Dammit. “Is he around?”

“He’s patrolling the southern quadrant at the moment. Heavy Ursa infestation there. As many Rangers as we have, we’re still spread thin, so we send people where we can. But to get back to the point, Mr. Silver: It’s obvious you can ghost. We saw it.”

“You saw it?” Something suddenly occurred to him. “You mean the whole time that thing was up in my face, you were just watching to see what happened? Did you just stand by and watch Ryerson die, too?”

For a moment, Freed looked less than comfortable. “We arrived too late to save him, but we got there in time to see you ghosting with the Ursa threatening you. I made the call to keep our forces back so that I could see whether you could sustain that status.”

“And if I couldn’t?”

“Then we’d have done our best to save you.”

“So you risked my life without my even knowing it.”

Freed’s voice became harsh. “No, you risked your life while knowing exactly what you were doing. It’s not the job of the Rangers to take responsibility for reckless decisions on the part of the citizenry. If you had died, you would have been just another dead citizen who thought that he knew better than the Rangers of Nova Prime. But if you survived, then you’d be someone who could be of tremendous service to your people. And that’s where we stand right now.”

“Meaning—?”

“Meaning I’m inviting you to become one of us, Mr. Silver. I’m giving you the opportunity to become a Ranger. I’ve taken the liberty of pulling your medical records…”

“That stuff’s supposed to be private!”

Freed smiled thinly and chuckled as if the notion of keeping secrets from the Rangers was quaint. He tapped his monitor screen. “You’re in perfect physical health. You have a good deal of stamina. You’re athletic. You are, in fact, an ideal Ranger candidate and I’m frankly surprised you haven’t enlisted before this.”

“Who said I’m enlisting now?”

“No one,” said Freed, spreading his hands wide. “I could point out, of course, that by ignoring a priority one Ranger directive you are in fact a criminal. You and your entire hunting party. The others are beyond Novan justice, but you aren’t.”

“So if I don’t join up, you’ll prosecute me? Is that it?”

Freed’s face was unreadable. Never play poker with this guy, thought Daniel.

“No, Mr. Silver,” Freed finally said. “I won’t have anyone on the Rangers who isn’t dedicated to the cause and isn’t here of his own free will. And, trespassing aside, your main crime is stupidity. If we start arresting people for that, half the population will be in front of a magistrate. So you’re free to go home, Mr. Silver. Just for our records, where is home, by the way?”

Daniel opened his mouth and then shut it again.

“Yes, as I thought.” He actually sounded gentle, even understanding. “You know, Daniel, the streets can get cold at night. Very cold. There are public shelters, as you know, but they don’t always attract the best elements. So as homes go, you can do far worse than the Rangers. Will you think about it? At least promise me that in exchange for my not throwing your ass in a cell.”

“Yeah. Sure. Fine. I’ll think about it,” said Daniel. “But just because I don’t have a home address listed, don’t think for a minute that I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

“That’s good to know,” said Freed.

He thought about it for exactly one night. A night when he walked through downtown, the winds whistling harshly through the canyons of the city. He saw the apartment buildings glowing softly against the darkness, imagined people going through their happy lives. Eating, drinking, smiling together. Lovers’ bodies entwined with each other. Children sitting at the feet of their parents, hearing stories about the past of Nova Prime.

He wondered if Ronna had found someone new already. Hell, there was probably someone already lined up when she dumped him. She probably felt she had wasted enough of her life with him and couldn’t wait to move on.

He took refuge for the night in Tucker’s firing range. He’d crashed there a few times, particularly when he’d gotten drunk at a bar—as happened from time to time—and wanted to get sobered up before Ronna saw him; she hated when he was drunk. It was after hours, but Daniel knew the lock’s combo and entered, closing the door firmly against the harsh winds.

He sat there in the darkness for a time and then started running a holographic simulation. It involved a family having a picnic that was disrupted by incoming Skrel attack vessels. Daniel rigged it, putting it into a loop so that the Skrel never arrived. It was just the family—father, mother, son—locked into a pleasant outdoor meal, enjoying one another’s company, laughing and joking.

It was completely artificial, and yet it was more than Daniel had ever known.

Daniel Silver had never felt more alone in his life than he had at that moment.

The next morning Captain Freed arrived at his office to find Daniel waiting for him.

“I still think you’re all a bunch of idiots,” said Daniel without preamble, “but I’m starting to think that I am, too. So maybe I’ll fit right in.”

“Believe it or not, I’ve heard worse reasons to join the corps.” Freed put out a hand and Daniel shook it reluctantly but firmly. “Welcome to the Rangers.”

The recorded sounds of trumpets flared across the sky, and Captain Green was reading out the list of names of those who had graduated Ranger training with honors. The loudest applause, however, came for Daniel Silver as he stood resplendent in the white uniform denoting his status as Ghost.

Captain Freed had handed him his cutlass as Green continued to intone the names of the graduates. Daniel snapped off a sharp salute in response. It was impressive that he was receiving so much of an ovation, considering he had no outside friends or family there. The corps was where all his friends were. The corps was his family.

Before Daniel could step farther down the line, Freed leaned forward and said to him softly, “Fastest trainee in the history of the Rangers. You should be very proud.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Your parents should also be proud.”

“I’m sure they are.”

Freed glanced toward the stands. “Are they here?”

“No, sir.”

“Why not?”

“They think I’m a bum, sir.”

“Do they.” He paused and then said, “Silver… I can’t account for the man you might have been. But I know the man you are now. The one who, as a Ghost, has been monitored over every step of his progress. Your evaluations indicate the same thing: You started off slowly, but as time passed, your interest in helping your fellow cadets developed very quickly and very naturally. You moved in natural formation, and your desire to protect others in your squad was instinctive. The general consensus is that you see the others, not as your fellow Rangers, but as your family. Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.”

“You’re… not wrong, sir,” said Daniel, his voice husky.

“I never am,” said Freed. And he tossed off a brisk salute that Daniel, displaying some confusion, returned.

Minutes later he was standing alone, whipping the cutlass back and forth. He felt a swell of emotion: He had worked toward something and now he was holding it in his hand. He’d accomplished his goal; the cutlass was the proof of that. It created a vicious arc in the air as he snapped it around with expert dexterity. He looked at it with pride.

With accomplishment.

With naked fear.

I’m a fraud, he thought.

He thought of all the times on the obstacle course as he pushed his body to do more than it ever had before. He pounded across it leaping, jumping, and scrambling, avoiding or dealing with anything that they threw at him. With every new challenge that he met, he felt a surging rise of confidence in the things his body was capable of doing.

Fraud.

He took classes in self-defense, in combat, in survival. He further honed his mind and body, faced off against his fellow cadets in sparring duels, each of them wielding practice cutlasses. Daniel took to the practice as naturally as an infant did to breathing: All he’d needed was that initial slap on the behind and then he was doing it as well as anyone and better than most. His mastery of the cutlass, once he had been drilled in the basic moves, was absolute. Long after other cadets had gone lights-out, he would be outside, stripped to the waist and whipping the practice cutlasses around so fast they were nothing more than a blur. His muscle memory became so drilled into him that his reaction time was measurable in nanoseconds. To attack Daniel Silver was to court disaster, because you would have your practice cutlass knocked out of your hand and your back on the floor before you even knew what happened. “Absolutely deadly.” “Never make him angry.” That was what his fellow cadets would say about him.

Fraud.

He walked across the field, newly graduated, and people automatically bowed or saluted whenever they saw him. No, not him so much as the gleaming white uniform denoting his status.

Fraud, fraud, fraud.

When he’d first undergone his psych evaluation, he had been entirely candid with them. He had told them flatly that he’d had no trouble ghosting because he was indifferent to whether the Ursa attacked him or not. He was worried this would disqualify him or be perceived as suicidal. Instead the conclusion drawn was that he was simply supremely confident, like an old Earth matador or animal trainer. Subsequent testing determined, to the satisfaction of the doctors, that—if nothing else—Daniel Silver did care if others lived or died. Were he in a situation where other Rangers were depending on him to save their lives, then he could be counted on to get the job done.

He had told no one of his relative indifference during the assault on Ryerson and his crew. He didn’t consider it to be of any relevance. They were fools tempting a vengeful fate, and they had done so with an attitude so cavalier that the gene pool was well rid of them.

The Rangers, on the other hand…

His earlier contempt for the Rangers had long since dissipated. As one month rolled into another, Daniel became not only more and more impressed by the character and caliber of the Rangers, but thrilled and honored to be a part of the organization.

And the better he felt about the corps, the better he felt about himself. He had become part of a brotherhood, and he now had something to live for: to serve alongside them and help keep them alive to the best of his ability.

Fraud. Fraud. FRAUD.

“You okay?”

An arm draped around his shoulder. It was Martes, who was arguably the best friend he had in his squadron. Martes was tall, lanky, with a sense of humor that was funny mostly to him. When he’d first encountered Daniel, Daniel had been uncertain and a bit standoffish. This had proven an irresistible combination to Martes, who had taken it upon himself, for no reason that Daniel could discern, to drag him, “kicking and screaming,” from his shell. Martes, as much as anyone and more than some, was responsible for the Ranger that Daniel had become, the one who had earned such unreserved compliments from Freed. Eventually Daniel and Martes had bonded during a particularly brutal survival training episode, and they’d had each other’s back ever since.

The only frustration that Martes had met up with was when he’d tried to get Daniel to consider the romantic possibilities with some of the more comely female Rangers. Daniel had declined all comers. This had prompted Martes to wonder where Daniel’s interests lay, but Daniel had informed him that, yes, females were his “outlet” of preference. At this point in his life, though, he just preferred not to. The fact was that Ronna had so destroyed him inwardly, he simply didn’t want to open himself up to that kind of heartache anymore.

“Why, don’t I look okay?” he said to Martes.

“Dan, this should be the best day of your life and you look like you’re about to step off a cliff.”

Wow. That is so on target it’s not even funny.

“I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“What else can you possibly have on your mind, aside from the obvious?”

“The obvious being?”

“We—you and me—are officially the hottest things on two legs. You are a Ghost, and I’m the friend of a Ghost, and we are young, sexy, and incredibly handsome. We are irresistible. Which means the sooner you get over your obsession with Donna—”

“Ronna.”

“—the better off you’re going to be. Because you, my friend, have a lot to live for!”

And that’s the problem, isn’t it, old friend, old buddy, old pal. What made me of interest to the Rangers is that I felt like I had nothing to live for. And over time, I found something to live for. And because of that, I might well get myself killed. Myself, and others.

Because I’m nothing but a great, big fraud.

In the end, Daniel knew that it had to come back to here, back to the Tangredi. These things have a way of coming full circle. It started here and it’s going to end here, too.

It had been a year since there had been any report of Ursa in the Tangredi Jungle. Ranger squads had continued to patrol there regularly for more than two months, but with no further encounters it was decided that—for the time being, at least—the area was clear. The most hopeful interpretation of the Ursa’s absence was that the multiple wounds inflicted by the Rangers had done the creature in, but the corpse remained unfound and so it was generally conceded that thinking the creature was dead was, at best, optimistic.

And now it was back. Or, at the very least, something had taken up residence in the Tangredi Jungle. Since the previous incursion, the Rangers had installed pressure-sensitive bio-detectors at random points throughout the jungle. They had remained undisturbed for many months.

But then, exactly two weeks after Daniel and his squadron had graduated, something tripped one of the detectors. To Daniel’s imagination, it was as if the Ursa were sending him a message. Are you ready for me, Daniel? You may have fooled me last time, but now we both know you for what you are. Come to me, Daniel. It’s time you joined Ryerson and his little friends.

As absurd as it may have seemed, Daniel was secretly glad for the opportunity. He still felt as if he needed to prove something to Ronna’s voice: the one in his head that continued to berate him and tell him that he would never amount to anything. If he could truly prove himself worthy of the designation of Ghost, the highest rank of the Rangers, then that would show her. And him. It would show once and for all that she was wrong to have dumped him and would go a long way toward mending his broken heart.

Martes was with Daniel, as were Rangers Xin, Ephraim, and Bastante. Three others—Calhoun, Ryan, and Stewart—had gone on ahead. He hadn’t wanted any of them along; Ghosts typically hunted alone, and he didn’t want to risk others in his squad if it wasn’t necessary. But they wouldn’t hear of it. “You’re not going to take down your first Ursa without us around to have your back.”

Captain Freed was heading up another squadron operating in another section of the jungle. Daniel desperately wished that Freed were with him, and had even suggested that Freed accompany their squadron, hoping he didn’t sound too desperate when he put forward the idea. Instead Freed had clapped a hand on his shoulder and said confidently, “You’re a natural at this, Silver. This is what you’ve been training for. You’re going to be fine.”

Daniel didn’t feel fine. He felt like a liability.

Nevertheless, he didn’t allow any of his inner turmoil to show. “We stay together,” he informed his squad as they made their way through the jungle. “No splitting up. I’ll be damned if this thing picks us off one by one.”

“Roger that,” said Ephraim. He was clearly somewhat nervous. He’d had as much training as anyone, but there was still that adrenaline-fueled worry when it came to being out in the field, chasing down the nightmare creature whose name was invoked to scare recalcitrant children when they wouldn’t go to bed at night. Every single one of the squadron had been told, at some point in their lives, “An Ursa is going to get you if you don’t behave.”

They reached the clearing that Daniel knew all too well. With a year gone by, there was no sign of the massacre that had transpired there. Daniel slowly surveyed the area and saw nothing, which of course didn’t mean a thing. Yes, he’d seen the wavery image of the Ursa employing its chameleon camouflage the last time, but that was merest happenstance since he’d been staring right at it. He reached out with his senses, his tracking abilities, everything he could bring to bear.

Nothing.

“Keep going,” he said tightly.

They moved in their smooth, practiced manner between the trees. They kept a lookout all around, listening for the slightest snap of a branch, the faintest rustling of a leaf. Anything that would betray the creature’s presence, give them even as little as a few seconds’ warning.

Still nothing.

“Starting to think we’re alone out here,” said Xin. She was clutching her cutlass tightly. Xin had been one of the most proficient wielders of the cutlass in class, and there was a look of grim determination on her face. It seemed to Daniel that she was actually anxious to take the creature on.

At least one of us is.

Daniel felt his heart pounding so hard that it was threatening to explode from his chest. He’d had no trouble maintaining calm detachment during training sessions where he was facing off against a simulated Ursa. No matter how realistic it was, it was to him no different than when he’d squared off against the holographic Ursa at the firing range. This, though, was different. This was people, men and women, depending on him. He wasn’t sure which worried him more: losing his life, or letting down the others.

He was sure his knees were shaking. How could they not notice that?

A crack of a branch and everyone jumped, snapping into a ready position.

“Crap,” muttered Bastante. He raised his foot slightly to reveal a branch on the ground that he’d just stepped on. Ephraim promptly punched Bastante hard in the shoulder.

“Stay sharp. No screwing around,” said Daniel sharply. The others nodded, and there were muttered apologies from Bastante and Ephraim.

They kept moving, checking in with Freed’s squad as they did so.

“I smell water,” said Xin minutes later. “Up ahead.”

She was right. Ahead of them, the ground opened out onto a wide lake. The water was glass-flat with nary a ripple. Under other circumstances, it would have looked inviting.

“Perhaps we should stake this out,” suggested Martes. “Even Ursa have to drink, right?”

“I think so,” said Bastante, “but you never know for sure with Ursa.”

They drew closer to the lake’s edge, and Daniel said, “Okay… here’s what we do—”

He got no farther, however, as the Ursa exploded upward from beneath the water barely two yards in front of the gathered Rangers.

It emerged with such force and velocity that a huge gout of water erupted all around it. The water leaped up like a geyser and then cascaded down upon them with the weight of a dozen anvils, knocking them off their feet.

Daniel was reasonably certain it was the same Ursa that had attacked them a year ago. It sounded the same; he was even sure he could see scars on its hide from when the Rangers had assaulted it.

The Ursa landed squarely in the midst of the startled Rangers and let out a roar. It pivoted and went for Bastante, who was nearest. Bastante rolled backward, came up on his feet, and slashed his cutlass in a figure eight. The Ursa dodged left and then swept one of its talons forward. It sliced diagonally across Bastante’s torso from shoulder to waist. Bastante shrieked and went down, blood pouring from him like a river. The Ursa backed up, and one of its hind feet touched up against Ephraim. Ephraim tried to bring his cutlass to bear, but he had no time; the Ursa simply stomped down on his head with its hind foot and there was a noise like that of a melon being crushed.

Everyone else was still trying to get to their feet, but the ground beneath them was soaked and they were slipping helplessly on the mud. The Ursa’s head whipped around as it prepared to pick its next victim.

Daniel had managed to get to his knees. He knew the drill: The Ursa would lock onto a target and not be dissuaded from it until the target was dead. Ephraim dead. Bastante down, likely dead. They’re looking to me to protect them, and I can’t, because I don’t want to die and this thing’s going to kill us all…

What do you think, Ronna? Will this make you love me? Am I enough of a man now? Here I am in a steady job where I have to be prepared to die every day I go to work. If you knew, would you give a damn? Probably not.

All of that went through Daniel’s head in a split second, distracting him not in the slightest from the situation at hand, and then he shouted, “Here! Here, you eyeless bastard! Come and get me!”

The Ursa locked onto him. He swore he could even see the flare of its nostrils. With a roar, the Ursa barreled toward him.

Daniel closed his eyes.

In his mind, the lake was gone. The Rangers were gone. The Ursa was gone. All that was there, against his eyelids, was Ronna.

I don’t hate you, Daniel. I pity you. I pity you and myself for spending so much time with an out-and-out loser. Okay? That’s what you are. That’s all you are. A big loser. And you can say that people change all you want, but they don’t. You were a loser when I met you, and you’re a loser now, and you’re never going to accomplish anything of any worth for anybody.

She had never said anything like that, but it didn’t matter. In his own mind, he had built up his rejection to such heights that that’s how she had made him feel, even if she hadn’t actually spoken those words.

Everything that he’d felt at that moment—the humiliation, the lack of self-worth, the utter despair that overwhelmed him, the sense that nothing else would matter for the rest of his empty life—came roaring back to him. It was all he could do not to start sobbing.

He became aware of the foul breath of the Ursa upon him. He shoved himself even farther into the despair that Ronna had brought down upon him.

Then he realized the Ursa hadn’t killed him.

Slowly he opened his eyes.

The Ursa was looking around, its nostrils definitely flaring. It was trying to find him. It was six inches away from him and didn’t know where he was.

Daniel’s cutlass was retracted. Very slowly, keeping the soul-crushing diatribe of Ronna fixed in his mind, reminding himself that he was a useless loser who had nothing to live for, he positioned the cutlass so that it was directly under the Ursa’s jaw.

Then he activated it.

The blade drove straight upward at an angle, under the creature’s chin and up through the roof of its mouth.

The Ursa was unable to roar because its jaw was pinioned shut. The creature’s strongest muscles were the ones that closed its mouth; the muscles that opened it were somewhat weaker. That served to Daniel’s advantage. The creature writhed and its talons flailed in the air as Daniel forced himself to his feet, pitting his strength against the Ursa’s massive weight. It should have been an impossible mismatch, but Daniel was operating on pure adrenaline, and he felt as if he were drawing power from an endless supply. The Ursa was shoved upward, off its front paws. Daniel yanked the cutlass apart, activated the other half. He had to pull his arm back quickly because the Ursa’s thrashing talons nearly took his arm off at the shoulder. Then, for an instant, he had a clear shot. He took it, activating the other half of the cutlass and driving it directly into the side of the Ursa’s head, into its brain.

The beast shuddered violently. Even with its brain bisected, its nervous system was still firing. In its death spasms, it fell forward, and Daniel wasn’t able to get away. It landed squarely atop him, and the only thing that prevented it from crushing him completely was the cutlass Daniel had shoved up under its jaw. Thick blood was drooling from its maw, dripping down on Daniel, and he made a sound of disgust.

Feeling Daniel beneath it, hearing his voice, there was no way the Ursa could miss him. It half rolled off him, and its flailing talons threatened to cut him to pieces.

And then the paw went flying, severed from the arm by Xin, who let out a cry of triumph as she swung her cutlass again and this time cut off the arm completely at the shoulder joint. Even as that happened, Martes charged forward and, disdaining to use his weapon, instead plowed into the Ursa like a linebacker. It knocked the creature clear of Daniel, and Xin and Martes quickly helped him to his feet. His legs almost gave way but he managed to maintain his footing. He gasped deeply for breath, and it took long moments for him to steady himself.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said brusquely. Then he informed Freed over his comm unit that they had killed the Ursa but had two Rangers down.

Within minutes they were being evacuated to Ranger headquarters. Ephraim was, of course, dead on arrival. Bastante managed to live three more hours before succumbing.

Daniel was at both their funerals. He kept his gaze level, his jaw stiff, and he spoke to no one for a solid week.

And when he finally did speak, it was to Martes, and it was only three words.

“Let’s go drink.”

Martes was happy to oblige.

“Hey, don’t I know you?”

The bartender stared at the white-clad Ranger, seated next to another Ranger. The white-clad man had short hair, was clean-shaven, and had a look of quiet confidence about him. When the Ranger didn’t reply immediately, the bartender said again, “Don’t I know you?”

Daniel looked him squarely in the eyes. “No,” he said softly, nursing his drink. “No, you don’t.”

The bartender’s eyes narrowed; he clearly felt he was missing something that he should have been picking up on. Then he shrugged to himself and moved down the bar to attend to another customer.

Martes looked sidelong at Daniel. “Okay, where’s he know you from?”

“Here. I used to be a bouncer here.”

“A bouncer? You’re kidding.”

“I used to be a lot of things.”

They had another drink and then Daniel decided he’d had enough of the place. He’d returned to that bar as much for personal amusement as anything else, but the novelty had worn off. “Let’s get out of here.”

“You got it, boss.”

They slid off the bar stools and headed toward the door, emerging into the cool darkness of the Nova Prime night. As they started to walk away, a startled voice said, “Daniel? Is that—?”

He turned and, sure enough, there was Ronna. Her hair was shorter than he’d remembered, and she looked a bit more haggard, but otherwise she was more or less the same. Her eyes widened in astonishment. “My God, it is you. I thought I was… oh my God! You’re a Ranger?”

“Sweetheart,” said Martes, clamping a hand on Daniel’s shoulder, “I’ll have you know he is the Ranger. And who are—?” Then he saw the look in Daniel’s eyes, the silent warning. “You’re kidding. This is her?”

Daniel didn’t have to reply to him; the answer was on his face.

“So… Ronna… how have you been?”

“Been okay. I guess.”

He realized she wasn’t looking him in the eyes. “Really?”

“Not really, no,” she admitted. “I’ve been in and out of a few relationships, and, well…” She shrugged.

“They weren’t going anywhere?”

She looked down. “I guess I deserved that. The truth is, lately I’ve been thinking about that night. You know: that night. And how terrible I was to you. And I was wondering if you’re, y’know… busy? Maybe we could go somewhere and talk?”

He was silent for a long moment, studying her, thinking about her… thinking about what she’d meant to him, what she could mean to him again.

But he also thought about what he himself could mean for Nova Prime. And Ronna could fit into that, yes… but not in the way she was thinking.

For his purposes, he needed her to be not what she was now, but what she had been.

Forever.

Without a word, he started to walk away. Martes automatically followed him.

Ronna stood there, stunned. It took her a few moments to find words: “Daniel? Where are you going?”

And the last thing he said, before the night swallowed him and his fellow Ranger, was, “Actually, Ronna… I want to remember you just the way you are.”

She looked stunned, but his back was to her and he never saw it.

Fable: The Balverine Order

Fable: Blood Ties

Fable: Reaver

Fable: Theresa

Fable: Jack of Blades

Fable: Edge of the World

Battleship

Transformers: Dark of the Moon

Spider-Man 3

Spider-Man 2

Spider-Man

The Incredible Hulk

Fantastic Four

Iron Man

After Earth: Ghost Stories: Hunted is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

2012 Del Rey eBook Original

Copyright © 2012 by After Earth Enterprises, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Used Under Authorization.

Published in the United States by Del Rey, an imprint of The Random House

Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

DEL REY is a registered trademark and the Del Rey colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

eISBN: 978-0-345-54207-6

Cover illustration: Stephen Youll

www.delreybooks.com

www.afterearth.com

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