Anna turned off the tablet. “It didn’t say anything about eating human hearts, but . . .” She positioned her arms as if she were cradling a baby; the imaginary head was positioned just over her heart.

  “Jesus Christ,” Ted breathed.

  Dani offered, “Steve said she heard a baby crying in the forest. That sound was probably what drew her out there.”

  Ian asked, “Was Tia Filipino?”

  Lise nodded. “Her family was. She told me once that her grandmother used to tell her folk tales from back home when she was little. It’s possible she heard about such a creature in her childhood but forgot about it later, so that she didn’t make the connection.”

  “Or didn’t forget about it,” Leo said quietly. “Given her mood that night, maybe she welcomed death.”

  “It’s fucking crazy,” Tom muttered.

  “It’s probably a clue,” Leo said, “though a bizarre one. Let’s compare it to all the others we know about. I want to hear about everything in this colony that doesn’t seem right to you. I don’t care how insignificant it seems. Ian, you can start by explaining about the tree rings.”

  He nodded and told the group what he had told Leo. He passed around the samples he’d brought with him, now properly sanded so the rings could easily be distinguished. Then Ted told the group about how there were no CCs in the camp, and why that was significant. Dani revealed that several people had talked to her about recurrent nightmares they were having—all the same, of a blue fire emanating from the ground.

  “Sally Chang described a blue light flowing along the ground that flickers like fire but gives off no heat. She tries to find its source, but she catches fire herself before she can do so, and the flames consume her. They’re cold rather than hot, and they freeze her to death.” She paused. “She told me she wakes up physically chilled. A tentmate of hers confirmed that her skin was like ice the last time it happened. I suppose it could be psychological. We know there are people who can control their body temperature. But . . .” She looked at Leo. “Add it to the list of weird events.”

  When no one else had anything to offer, Leo nodded. “I’ve witnessed two odd coincidences. They seem pretty minor in comparison to what you’ve all reported, and probably aren’t significant, but we’re not yet sure what is or isn’t significant, so I’ll share them.” He told them about how Rod had “jinxed” his tractor by dreaming about how it could break down, which it promptly did, for no obvious mechanical reason. And how some of the hunters thought that Sky had demonstrated an unnatural influence over his prey. “The first example does seem to fit the pattern,” he concluded. “An image in someone’s mind affecting the real world.”

  “Fear,” Ian muttered. “This is all about fear.”

  Johnny snorted. “I’m pretty sure Wayne wasn’t afraid he’d run into a bone-eating vampire. And I’d be surprised if anyone was having nightmares about evenly spaced tree rings.”

  “And Sky’s incident with the deer didn’t involve any fear,” Pravida pointed out. “If anything, it was just the opposite. It was something he wanted very badly.”

  “What about emotion?” Dani asked. “Each of those people had an image stuck in their mind that had strong emotional resonance. Different emotions each time, but always intense.”

  “And the tree rings?” Ian pointed out.

  Leo shook his head. “They record events from before we got here. We don’t have a context for them. So let’s focus on human events for now.”

  “So then, what?” There was an edge to Ted’s voice. “What are we suggesting? That there’s some mind-reading creature out there, bringing our emotions to life? That’s a little farfetched, isn’t it? Or maybe the whole planet just hates us. That would explain the insects.”

  “Hey.” Leo held up a hand. “If it’s too farfetched, then let’s come up with an idea that isn’t. Because if this goes on much longer, people will start to panic.”

  “You going to share all this with the rest of the camp?” Johnny asked sharply.

  Leo hesitated. “Let’s come up with some workable theories first. So we have something better to offer than ‘Your nightmares may come to life and try to kill you.’ Especially when we could be completely wrong about that. We’d be stirring up fears over nothing.”

  “Well,” Ian said, “whatever is going on here is good for the trees, and it was good for Sky. And maybe it’s good for the insects, too—we don’t know why they left. So it may not be inherently harmful. Maybe . . .” He hesitated. He was thinking of the fungal networks back home: unseen, undetected, but connected to every living thing around them. Could there be something on this planet that worked the same way, but without the same kind of physical connection? Maybe something that responded to emotional energy instead of chemical signals? It sounded like something out of one of Wayne’s movies, but then, so did this whole situation. “I have some ideas,” he hedged. “Let me test some of them and see if they’re worth sharing.”

  “Fair enough,” Leo said. “Meanwhile, everyone will be armed, twenty-four/seven. Any animal that’s solid enough to remove chunks of a human body is solid enough to be shot. And we’ll put the watchtower construction on priority, so we’re better positioned to see anything approaching the camp.” He shook his head. “This whole thing is so bizarre. What if it’s not even real? What if there’s some kind of group delusion involved, brought on by the stress of a new world?”

  “Which no other colony experienced?” Joshua asked.

  “The bodies I inspected were real,” Lise said. “I know how to tell the difference.”

  “But the way they appear to us?” Leo asked. “The baby that Tia may have seen? The stranger details of her wound? It wouldn’t hurt to check out the possibility. Maybe something in the air is making us all hyper-suggestible. Or hyper-paranoid. Terra had its share of mind-altering plants.”

  “It’s spring,” Ian said. “That means pollen.”

  “All right. So check that out. Anna, why don’t you do a detailed analysis of the atmosphere, down to trace elements.” He paused. “Much as it pains me to say this, I think it’s wisest not to share our crazier speculations with the rest of the camp until we can rule out any mind-altering influence that might skew their reaction.”

  “I’ll need to keep Wayne’s body for further study,” Lise said. “I’ve set up a morgue-style cooler for it, but that means we won’t be able to bury him. What do we tell people about that?”

  “The truth. You need to run more tests. They know we’re trying to figure out what killed him, so it’ll be fine.”

  “And what about the guns?” Johnny asked. “How do we explain the fact that we’re telling everyone they need to carry twenty-four/seven?”

  “They know that some large animal killed Tia. They were already worried about it getting into the camp. Now Wayne has died, and no one knows what killed him. I think most people will be happy to go armed.”

  “All right,” Ted said. “Just remind them that bullets go through tents. I seem to recall some people forgetting that in Orientation.”

  Orientation. It seemed like a lifetime ago. It was a lifetime ago, if you counted all the years the colonists had slept. What if stasis became more unreliable over that much time? Could thousands of years in suspension have affected everyone—or almost everyone—in ways no one anticipated? Maybe compromising their ability to think clearly?

  Either way, mass hysteria was real. Earth had records of many examples. But even if that was happening here, it still left many unanswered questions.

  The forest surrounding Ian was green. So very green. Ian just stood there for a moment, drinking in the color: emerald-brilliant, multi-layered verdure that reminded him of the Amazonian preserve where Orientation had taken place, only more intense. It was the kind of place that could only exist in a location where year after year, decade after decade, growing conditions remained stable.

  Like here.

  Slowly he picked his way over vines and gullies, moving farther and farther away from the camp. Leo would have his head if he knew that Ian had gone off alone like this, but that couldn’t be helped. The botanist needed to get far enough from the camp that the sound of chainsaws and hammers and engines being tested faded into the distance. He needed to be alone with the planet. But Tia had died in these woods, and Wayne had died . . . well, however the hell Wayne had died. The point was, he had died when he was alone. Yet as Ian picked his way through the brush—twisting a leaf here or a branch there to mark his path for later—he told himself that his circumstances were different. If Dani was right, and the elusive monsters of Erna responded to human emotion, then all they would get from him was insatiable curiosity and perhaps a hint of awe.

  Finally he found the kind of place he was looking for, a small clearing surrounded by trees just coming into flower. There was a stream nearby, and the sound of water rushing over rocks washed out the noise from the camp. If he shut his eyes, he could imagine he was the only human on this planet.

  For a long time he just stood there, trying to let go of his memories of Earth so that he could embrace the essence of this mysterious new world. That was the colonists’ problem, to his mind: They saw this world as alien, and deep inside felt like they didn’t belong here. If something on this planet really was responding to human emotions, that was the wrong message to send. Maybe if he approached the planet from a different perspective he could gain better insight.

  He took out the gun that Leo had assigned to him and turned it over in his hand, studying the way leaf-mottled shadows played across its surface. If some hostile creature should approach him, this would be his only defense. He considered that for a long moment, then laid it down gently on a bed of moss. Yes, there was a stirring of fear inside him—he’d be lying if he denied that—but he had come here for a purpose, and that couldn’t be achieved if he was in a confrontational state of mind.

  He walked to the center of the clearing and lowered himself to a cross-legged position, shifting in the grass until he was comfortable. All that he could see or hear now was the Ernan wilderness: branches shifting, water gurgling, and maybe—just maybe—the subtle stirrings of a fungal network deep underground, connecting it all into one vast entity. Convergent evolution suggested such a thing might exist here, though not necessarily in a form he would recognize.

  “I come to you unarmed,” he said aloud. Not because he thought the trees would understand English—he wasn’t quite that crazy—but because the words helped give structure to his thoughts, and hopefully would channel his emotions the way he needed to. “I sit here unprotected. Not as invader, but supplicant. I bring with me no beliefs that are alien to you, no Terran expectations. Just a willingness to greet you on your own terms.” He breathed in deeply, drawing Erna’s air deep into his lungs. “Show yourself to me,” he whispered. “Whatever your nature, I’ll respect it, I promise.”

  But though he sat there for a long while, focusing his mind and soul upon that message, he gained no special insight. An insect landed on him, which might or might not be significant. Had he expected more? Had he hoped deep inside that there really was some kind of alien sentience that he could communicate with? What an amazing experience that would be! But though it was a pleasing fantasy, he hadn’t really expected a concrete response.

  Finally he rose from the grass, brushing seeds and dirt from his clothing as he stood. The long meditation had soothed his spirit, and his body felt refreshed, but he understood no more now than he had when he first arrived. With a sigh of frustration he retrieved his gun and started back the way he had come, toward the incessantly busy, incessantly noisy settlement.

  The forest was not ready to speak to him.

  Colony Commander’s Log

  Year One

  Day Five

  There was a quake this morning, stronger than the one on landing day. Joshua and Anna have gone to the module to make sure nothing was damaged. Meanwhile a betting pool has been established for when the first aftershock will arrive. I have –reluctantly—agreed to let the printer be used to produce plastic coins for that purpose. As they can be fed back into the printer later, no resources are being wasted. One side of the coin has an image of our new planet, the other the profile of the Terran financier for whom it was named. It seems right that she be memorialized on our first coinage, though the grandeur of the gesture seems a bit diminished when they are only plastic betting tokens. Printing any kind of coinage in this place feels a bit premature, but isn’t that one of the first acts of a new nation, to signal its sovereignty? So maybe it is appropriate.

  There is a sense of nervous energy in the air today, in anticipation of what Joshua has named “true night.” I am not sure whether that is a good thing or a bad thing.

  Jeff isn’t doing well, which is not surprising, given his recent experience. I have asked Dani to watch over him, and I understand she’s moved him to the quarantine pod. Lise and I are going there later to check on him, and see if there is anything we can do to help him cope with the horror that he has witnessed.

  The quarantine pod was in the rear of the camp, behind the city of tents. It was a quiet place—as much as any location in the camp was quiet—with little traffic. Opposite the pod was the tiny cemetery where they had buried Tia and the stasis casualties, with a few flowers on their graves bearing witness to friends who remembered them.

  After the morning work crews had set out, Leo and Lise headed that way. As always, her presence eased his spirit. He wished he could put aside all his other concerns and just focus on her, like he had once dreamed of doing, but as much as he yearned for the comfort of such a relationship, the tension of the past week would not release its death-grip on his soul. Hopefully when things were more stable he could step back from his position and be, for a time, just a man. That was the point of his coming here, wasn’t it? A fresh start?

  Dani was waiting for them outside the pod. She smiled as Leo and Lise approached, but the expression was forced and didn’t reach her eyes.

  “How’s he doing?” Leo asked.

  “Not well.” Dani was normally good at masking her emotions, but there was no mistaking the concern in her voice. “He has to have the lights on all the time. Darkness terrifies him. And the pod door has to be shut completely, so nothing can sneak in and surprise him.” She sighed. “Lise gave me a sedative to help calm him down, but she wasn’t sure how potent it would be, given how long it had been in storage.” She hesitated. “I gather Jeff and Wayne were . . . close. No doubt that’s part of why this hit him so hard.”

  Leo raised an eyebrow. “Close?”

  “Friends, at least. Who knows?” She shrugged. “We all agreed to breed when we got here, but that doesn’t mean people can’t have other attachments. And I think he actually saw Wayne die. Sometimes he mutters things about how darkness rose up and devoured Wayne, and I get the impression that’s not just a metaphor, that he actually saw something inside that tent. But when I try to get him to tell me more, he gets confused, and suddenly can’t remember anything. Deep inside, I suspect he doesn’t want to remember. And one can hardly blame him, given everything. But he may have actually seen what killed Wayne.” She sighed. “I’m hoping with you here he can stay focused long enough to describe what he saw.” She moved toward the door of the pod. “You ready?”

  The visitors nodded.

  She reached out and knocked, loudly enough to be heard through the pod’s insulated shell. Then she opened the door, and stood aside so Leo and Lise could enter.

  The interior of the pod was blazing with light. Lamps had been hung from every available protrusion, and were clustered on every shelf, table, and chair. A half-dozen cots were neatly arranged at the far end of the pod, and every one of them had a lamp set on it. Some even had lamps underneath them. The overall message was clear: Shadows will find no refuge in this place.

  Jeff was huddled on the cot farthest from the door, his knees drawn up before him, just like on the night of Wayne’s death. His skin was ashen, and he looked utterly exhausted. There was a plate of food beside him, but it looked untouched.

  “Hey, Jeff.” Leo tried to make his tone sound casual, but it was hard to do when so much might be riding on this conversation. “We came to see how you were doing.”

  Jeff looked up at him with bloodshot eyes and whispered, “Did you bury him yet?” The subtext was clear: Did I miss Wayne’s funeral?

  “Not yet,” Lise said gently. “We’re still trying to figure out what killed him, and I need him for that. We’ll set him to rest properly when that’s done, I promise you.” And she added, “We’ll let you know when.”

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  Leo walked over and sat down on the cot beside him. “Dani said you might be able to help us figure out what happened to Wayne.”

  He shut his eyes; a faint tremor ran through his body. “Hungry,” he whispered. “They were so hungry! You could feel their hunger inside you, like a thousand knives in your gut. Was that what Wayne felt, do you think? Something cutting him up from the inside? Would the same thing have happened to me, if I hadn’t fled?” He opened his eyes—haunted eyes, hopeless eyes, so full of pain that it hurt just to look at them. “I should have stayed,” he whispered hoarsely. “I should have saved him. Instead I ran, like a coward. I left him alone.” He lowered his head and sobbed.

  For a moment Leo didn’t trust himself to respond. He knew all too well what it was like to blame oneself for another’s death, and wasn’t sure how to quiet Jeff’s demons when he hadn’t yet conquered his own. Finally he put a hand on Jeff’s shoulder and squeezed it: reassurance without words. Meanwhile Dani came to the cot, pushed the plate of food away, and sat down on Jeff’s other side. “You couldn’t have saved him,” she said gently. She took his hand in hers. “But by warning us, you may have saved others.”

  Nodding dully, Jeff wiped his nose with the back of a shaking hand.

  “You said they were hungry,” Leo prompted. He tried to make his tone encouraging rather than demanding. “What is they?”