The insects that had plagued us during the night had disappeared with the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy of leaves high above us. The little camp sounded busy, plenty of grunts and grumbles and swearing. In the background I could hear birds trilling and chirping. Then the cracking, rushing roar of a giant tree coming down. A thunderous crash. The ground shuddered and everything went quiet. But only for a moment. The birds started in again, the soldiers returned to their chores.

I walked past the construction crews, out toward the perimeter where Sergeant Manfred was in charge of the security detail. He was in his mottled green armor, helmet on, speaking by radio to the soldiers on guard through the woods.

“Anything out there?” I asked him. I myself wore only my fatigues, although I had my comm helmet on and I kept a pistol strapped to my hip. I remembered a time when I wore a dagger on my thigh, out of sight beneath my clothes. I missed its comforting pressure.

“There’s something bigger than a tree lemur moving out at the edge of our sensor range,” Manfred said, his voice low and hard.

“Intelligence claims there’s nothing bigger than tree lemurs on the planet.”

“Those swamp things were bigger.”

“But here on dry land?”

“Could be enemy scouts,” he said flatly.

“Maybe we should dig in, prepare to fight off an attack.”

“Does Intelligence know how many of these Skorpis are on the planet?”

“They claim only a small unit, guarding a construction team.”

Manfred grunted.

I agreed with him. Intelligence had not inspired me with confidence, so far on this mission. “I’ll get a squad to start digging in as soon as some heavy equipment comes through the transceiver. In the meantime, you—”

The blast knocked me off my feet, sent me tumbling a dozen meters. Clods of dirt and debris pattered down on me; acrid smoke blurred my vision. I could hear other explosions, and the sharp crackling sound of laser weapons.