Golden Colony

	Grace never saw what hit her ship.  One minute, everything was normal as she finished the first leg of her patrol.  The pan-American colony world Santos-Dumont was just ahead of her and after a brief layover there all she had to do was make it through the boredom of a twelve-hour flight back to base.  Then a tremendous crash, and something knocked the nose off of her scout and sent her spiraling out of control toward the planet.  Alarms shrilled in her ears and the loss of atmosphere in the split second before the emergency seals activated made her feel light headed and sick.  When the crash webbing deployed it was all she could do to tear a hole in the tough material so she could at least get one hand on the stick again.  As her ship hit the planet's atmosphere, she wondered if she'd ever see home again.
	Every scout pilot was taught how to land blind.  This was necessary on worlds that didn't have landing facilities yet, and for emergencies.  It had been a long time since she'd had any practice at it, though.  The wounded ship bucked and rolled under her and it dropped much too fast.  Half her forward retros were lost with the nose and the rest were damaged.  She fired them anyway, in the hope that they would soften her landing.  They spun her nose over tail twice, before the scout leveled out.  As she worked to get the ship under control she was dimly aware of the stream of garbled prayer and curses she screamed at the failing machinery, in the vain hope it would all hold together just a little while longer.  By sheer luck it did, until she hit the ground.  She wasn't even aware of how far she'd fallen until her port wing struck the top of a tree and flipped her over into, as luck would have it, the softest, soupiest swamp she'd ever seen.  Mud and filthy water splashed over her ship and, in spite of the crash webbing, she banged her head on the dash.
	She came to a few minutes later to find her cockpit hatch hanging open.  Her first thought was that it had popped open on impact, but that was supposed to be impossible with these new scouts.  As long as the cabin stayed pressurized enough to keep the pilot alive, nothing could get in or out without the help of the computer.  The only other answer was that someone had managed to open it from the outside, which meant they had some way to bypass her log-in codes and to access the computer remotely.  She wasn't sure which option sounded worse.  She shook her head to clear it and untangled herself from the webbing.  It didn't matter why the hatch was open.  It was, and maybe that was for the best.  She'd smashed half her instruments when her head bounced off the console and the flight computer was a wreck.  Stretching slowly to ease the kinks out of her legs and back, she opened the emergency locker by her left hand and felt inside for the pistol she kept there.  As best as she could remember the planet was mostly uninhabited with only a few hundred colonists at the base they'd established, but there was no point in taking chances.
	The first thing she noticed as she crawled out of the cockpit was the heat.  The swamp where she'd landed baked under the planet's enormous sun and a foul-smelling steam rose up from the muck  around her.  It reminded her of the pigs her grandfather kept on his farm and they way they smelled sometimes when they got sick.  She put a hand over her nose and slogged through the swamp in search of solid ground.  That was when she heard the click of the rifle being cocked behind her.  She spun around with her pistol raised and the ground at her feet exploded in a spray of filth.
	An old man stood by the rear of her ship with his rifle raised.  He wore a tattered grey coverall and his weapon was practically an antique.  Modern weapons never needed to be primed by hand.
	“What are you?  Are you human?” the old man said.
	“What do I look like?” she said.
	“That doesn't mean anything, not here.  Answer the question,” he said.
	“I'm Captain Palmer, with the pan-American Space Service.  You see this scout, right?  They don't give those to just anyone,” she said.
	The old man shook his head and raised his rifle higher.
	“Could be stolen.  We never did find out how smart the bastard things are.  They could be able to fly a ship, for all we know,” he said.
	The old man shot at her again, and Grace heard the bullet spank into the side of her ship.  She dropped to her knees behind an engine nacelle and shot back at him, but he had already ducked behind the tail of her scout.  She fired a second time, out of frustration, and he tossed his rifle out over the top of the scout to land in front of her.
	“No more of that, Captain.  You must be human, because the creatures don't scare like that.  They don't normally bother with weapons, either.  But I had to be sure, didn't I?” he said.
	“Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?  Attacking an officer of the Space Service is a serious offense,” she said.
	“Believe me, Captain, there's nothing you or your government could do to me that's as bad as what those things will do if they catch us,” he said.
	He stood up with his hands raised but it was plain he wasn't paying much attention to her.  He looked around at the swamp and he seemed particularly worried about the little pools of deeper water that were dotted around the place.  She kept her pistol pointed at him as she stooped to pick up his rifle.
	“Whatever they might be, they're your problem.  All I want is to finish my mission so I can get off this planet and back to base.  Point me to the space port and I'll forget everything,” she said.
	“Can't,” the old man said, “That was the first thing they smashed.”
	“Mission Up-link, then.  I don't care, as long as there's a radio,” she said.
	The old man shook his head.
	“Why do you think you were sent out here in the first place?  Didn't they tell you?  Everything's gone, and since you smashed your ship we're stuck down here,” he said.
	“You're not being very cooperative,” she said.
	The old man glanced back over his shoulder again and sidled closer to her.
	“Can I have my rifle back?” he said.
	“Maybe.  Tell me how to get to the port,” she said.
	“It's due south.  Just keep walking and you'll get there,” he said.
	She nodded, shouldered the old man's rifle and set off in the direction he'd pointed out.  She was vaguely annoyed but not at all surprised when he ran after her.
	“You'd better not go there alone.  Those things--” he began.
	“Jason Golden was supposed to be in charge of operations here.  All I was told was he was overdue to report in, and I'm supposed to find him and see why.  That's all I care about,” she said.
	“Is that so?” the old man said.
	“It's very important that I get his report and find a way off this backwater shitball.  You're going to help me do that,” she said.
	The old man made a lunge for his rifle and she switched it to her other shoulder so she had her right hand free to draw her pistol.
	“I already told you why.  Those damned creatures smashed everything.  Nobody sent a report because we couldn't, and you're never going to get off this planet,” he said.
	“We'll see.  First we find Golden.  Then I'll worry about these mysterious creatures of yours,” she said.
	The old man stopped and folded his arms across his chest, pouting.  The gesture so surprised her that she stopped, too, and turned to look at him.
	“I was glad when they smashed the transmitter.  I was so sick of talking to you stuck up Space Service bastards.  You just won't listen when people tell you to stay away,” he said.
	“You're Golden?” she said.
	“Didn't they even tell you what I looked like?” he said.
	He grabbed for the rifle again and this time she didn't resist.  Jason Golden had helped set up three colony worlds before this one, including Earhart where Grace had grown up.  To see him now, as some half crazy old man ranting in the middle of a swamp was shocking.
	“Where is everyone?  I was told you had thirty people in your administrative staff and the first colonists are supposed to be here as well.  That's three hundred people at least,” she said.
	“The lucky ones are hiding.  I don't know where.  It won't do them much good, though, because once the creatures get you they can make you do anything.  They can look like anyone,” he said.
	Grace looked out over the swamp.  It was filthy and it stank and there was no sign of civilization anywhere, but it didn't look particularly dangerous.  Even so, Golden's nervous attitude didn't feel like an act.  Something had him scared to death.
	“Let's go find them,” she said.
	To Grace's relief, the swamp finally petered out only a couple of miles from the crash site.  The land beyond was still soggy and water squished underfoot at every step, but it was a relief not to have to wade through ankle deep slop anymore.  Golden calmed down a little as they walked, and he no longer looked over his shoulder quite so much.  She had the feeling that he was grateful just to have someone else with him.  He still kept his rifle cocked and over his shoulder, but his breathing was almost normal and he stopped his nervous hunt for ghosts.
	After a while they came to a paved road that ran up a narrow ridge and away into the distance.  It was the first man-made thing she'd seen all day and the sight of it made her feel a little better, though only for a moment.  As they got closer she saw that the surface of the road was webbed with cracks and something had dug deep crescent-shaped holes up the center that looked like the hoof prints of an enormous horse.
	“I told you they smashed everything,” Golden said.
	“Your creatures did this?” she said.
	“Don't you see?  They leave holes like that everywhere they go.  The swamp hides their marks, but human things betray them,” he said.
	“They're soldiers, then?  Invaders who drive some kind of tanks, or--”
	“No.  They don't use machines.  They're more like animals, but they're killers.  Monsters,” he said.
	Grace shrugged and started up the road.  Golden hesitated, the way he had back in the swamp, then ran after her.  He was careful never to actually touch the surface of the road, though.  Instead, he waded through the tall grass beside it.  As they got close to the top of the ridge, the first thing she noticed was the new smell.  It was sweet and slightly musty and it reminded her of the barn on her grandfather's farm with its great stacks of hay.  She hadn't expected anything like it.  On a planet that was, basically, one giant swamp with patches of high ground, she hadn't expected farms.  She was even more surprised when they crested the hill and found the horse.  It simply appeared between one moment and the next, and there was nowhere on the barren hill that could hide it.
	“Look there.  That's one of them.  One of the things I told you about,” Golden said.
	Grace ignored him.  Wherever it had come from, it looked like a perfectly ordinary horse with a black coat and an overgrown mane and tail.  Grandfather gave her a horse just like it when she was little, but, she thought, she'd taken much better care of him and actually groomed him once in a while.  The only strange thing about the horse was that he was on such a backwater planet.  It was rare to find such a large animal on a new colony world like this one.  Some colonists brought pets or small animals for food, of course, but machines and synthesizers were much cheaper to ship and you didn't have to worry whether they'd die.
	“Get back.  They've found us,” Golden said.
	Grace glanced over at him and she saw his rifle pointed straight at the horse.
	“This is one of your monsters?  A horse?” she said.
	She took a step toward the horse and Golden grabbed her arm hard enough to leave bruises.
	“Don't move.  It might leave you alone if you don't look at it.  Stay with me,” he said.
	The horse shook its head and snorted, and for just a moment she saw something odd in the way it moved.  Curious, she pried Golden's fingers off her arm and went up the hill.  The horse tensed at her approach, like a half wild animal, but it didn't shy away from her and when she held out her hand it sniffed her fingers.
	“It's a shame I don't have anything to give you.  I don't think you'd like the concentrates I left back in the ship.  Maybe that proves which of is really the more intelligent species,” she said.
	She patted the horse on his neck and the animal's head snapped up.  That was when she saw.  Its eyes were dirty yellow and slitted like a cat's and its skin shifted, like water, to the unhealthy sheen of something that had been rotting in the swamp for months.  Its lips rolled back to show rows of sharp yellow teeth, more like a shark's than anything that belonged on land, and it growled.  She tried to snatch her hand away, but it was stuck fast the beast's skin, which felt like hot tar.  She hit it once, a solid blow across the muzzle, and she was dimly aware of Golden screaming at her.  She heard the crack of his rifle when he fired and she was perfectly certain she saw the shot graze the creature's shoulder.  It screamed, a shrill, watery sound somewhere between a whinny and the cry of a drowning man, and it reared up with her.  She caught a glimpse of sharply serrated hooves that looked more like fingers, or claws, and then she was flipped through the air to land on the creature's back.
	Golden fired again and this time Grace saw the shot hit the beast in the head, just inches away from her.  There wasn't any blood, just a clear jelly that oozed out of the wound.  The creature shook its head hard, so its ears snapped on its neck, then took off at a hard gallop.  Whatever the thing was, it didn't move like a real horse, or any other animal she'd ever known.  Its legs moved in a familiar back and forth fashion, but it flowed smoothly across the ground without disturbing any of the small pools of water in the road.  Its clawed feet dug deep holes in the ground, but there was no sound but the crack of crumbling asphalt and the wind in her ears.
	She bit her lip and tried to think.  It wasn't easy.  Her legs and right hand were stuck fast to the creature's body, and its smell had shifted to a foul reek that choked her and made her feel sick.  Worse, its long mane flew back into her face and kept her from seeing anything that lay ahead of them.  It was only by luck that she remembered the pistol strapped to her hip.  Golden shot the creature twice without so much as slowing it down, but it was the only hope she had.  It was an effort to work her pistol out of its holster with her left hand.  Besides the awkward reach, whatever they were passing over caused the creature to slip violently from side to side, like white water flowing around rocks in a river.  She nearly dropped the gun twice, but she finally got it drawn and rested on her hip.
	By this time, the creature was moving faster than any living creature should be able to.  She couldn't tell how far they'd come, but all she could see to either side was a blur.  She tried not to think too much about what might happen if she killed the creature in mid-gallop.  She took a deep breath and put the pistol against the creature's neck.  She felt it tense when she did, and she wasted no time pulling the trigger before it could do anything to stop her.  The shot made both of them jump and the beast's feet slipped under it.  She fired a second time and they fell together.

	It was dark when Grace came to.  Every bit of her ached and she felt dizzy from hitting her head again, but to she wasn't badly hurt.  She'd lost her pistol in the fall and when she sat up she felt a thick slime clinging to her.  The stuff coated her legs and right arm and there was a pool of it all around her.  It made her bare skin tingle slightly, like a mild acid, and she plucked a handful of grass to wipe it off.  As she worked a small light clicked on beside her.  She froze, afraid that it was another one of the creatures, but this light was warm and electric.
	“Are you okay?” Golden said.
	“I guess so.  What are these things?” she said.
	“I told you.  Nobody really had a chance to learn much about them when they first showed up.  Everyone was too busy being eaten or running away,” he said.
	He held out a hand, but she didn't take it.  Maybe it was just because he was half hidden in the darkness, but there was something strange about his face.  For the skin of a moment she thought his jaw looked too long and his ears were too high up on his head.  His eyes glinted yellow in the dim glow of the flashlight.  Then she blinked and it all faded, but she got up by herself.  Her legs were a bit shaky, but nothing seemed to be broken, and she felt a little better for having some space between them.
	“How did you find me so quickly in the dark?  That thing must have carried me a couple of miles from the hill,” she said.
	“I knew where it was going.  There's a big lake just beside the command center where the beasts take all their victims,” he said.
	“And that's just where we've got to go.  Fantastic,” she said.
	She felt around on the ground for her pistol, taking care not to touch more of the slime than she could help, but she didn't find it.
	“I dropped the rifle, too.  It was out of bullets anyway.  But if we're quick, they might not even see us,” Golden said.
	“You should have kept it.  There might have been more back at base,” she said.
	He gave a little growl of irritation that reminded her uncomfortably of the creatures and waved a dismissive hand.
	“Forget it,” he said.
	“To think that I took this patrol because it was supposed to be easy,” she said  “Captains only have to do five a year to get paid, you know, and this was my last.  Damnation.”
	They walked slowly and stayed an arm's length apart.  If one of them was grabbed the other one might use that time to escape.  Golden kept his flashlight turned off as much as possible so they wouldn't be spotted, though Grace would have gladly risked it for the comfort the little bit of light gave.  She lost all track of time until she felt they'd been slogging through the dark swamp for months and her legs ached so much she could barely raise them, but, finally, Golden shone his light on the set of glass and steel doors she'd almost walked into.
	“You won't find much inside, but what's there is yours,” he said.
	She took the light from him and opened the doors.  She expected things to be bad, but what she found was a total wreck.  Glass and bits of shattered circuits lay all over the floor and tangles of wire spilled out of gutted computer terminals.  There weren't any bodies but she smelled blood and the floor was slick with the same clear slime she'd found covering her legs.  The odd thing was that everything looked so ancient.  An office chair collapsed into moldering fragments when she touched it, and a bank of file cabinets were hardly more than big cubes of rust.  The Dumont colony wasn't even a decade old yet, but everything looked like it had been rotting for centuries.
	Out of sheer, stubborn optimism she looked around the room until she found the communications console.  It was smashed like all the others, with bundles of thick wires spilling out over the keyboards and empty holes where the monitors should be.  She flipped the power switch anyway, and was rewarded with a brief spark and a little hum of power.  Something was still functioning, and she typed in her personal access code in the hope that it might trigger some more useful reaction.  As she worked, she heard Golden come in and shut the door behind them, and there was the scrape of a bolt sliding home.
	“Now you see.  You are all alone here,” he said.
	“All we have to do is hold on.  There must be a way to survive, and they'll send someone else to find out what happened to us.  If I don't report in by tomorrow--”
	“It won't make any difference.  Let them come,” he said.
	His voice sounded thick and slurred and she turned to look at him.  In the dim light thrown by her flashlight, he changed.  His body grew thicker and his hands turned into claws.  He blinked when she shone the light on his face, and when he opened his eyes they were yellow and slitted like a cat's.  He growled, just like the other creature had done, and dark shapes stirred in the smashed control room.  More creatures joined him in a circle around her, their eyes shining brighter than her light.
	“This is our world.  You aren't wanted here,” Golden said.	
	They all leaped at once and the last thing she was aware of as they bore down on her was a thick, brackish taste in her mouth, like stale water, and the sensation of drowning.