The dropship had thundered through the atmosphere like a comet, chased and harried by Xannix ships. Splashdown brought its own set of problems. The chill waters cut to the bone, the darkness punctuated by staccato sparks of light in the flooded cabin. He had been told landings were simply controlled crashes – this had not been a controlled crash.
Since arriving in-system, life had become complex. Scientists had pronounced Hayford b to be a paradise, free from sentient life, ready for colonisation. They were wrong.
Larsen fought against the bitter cold of the icy waters and pushed for the surface of the lake. He and Rivers had survived the crash, but could they survive the hunt? Cut off from the fleet and marooned on an unknown alien world, how long could they keep up any escape and evade the attentions of the local inhabitants, never mind the tracker team? The whole world was hostile.
From the moment of first contact with the Xannix aboard the Intrepid, things had gone from bad to worse. But now he was beginning to feel that things had become personal.
Trouble had come to the Xannix homeworld. Being the prey in a global game of cat-and-mouse was never his intention, but you worked with the hand fate dealt you. He was convinced of one thing…
They were not going to die today.