She set the cube down and unwrapped the magnetron. It was an orange sphere about the size of a baseball. She inserted it into its slot.

Behind her, the ruby flashes of the lasers became sporadic. And stopped. Only the slow emerald pulse remained.

The forest fell absolutely silent, save for her own labored breathing.

The green light began moving in her direction.

She thought of abandoning everything, of jumping in the flyer and getting out, but that meant leaving everyone. Leaving the Valiant.

The shroud drifted through the shrubbery and paused.

Those mad eyes locked on her.

My God.

It knows me.

It thinks I’m Emily.

She dug the remote and the power pack out of the container. She pocketed the remote and manically, irrationally, read the specs on the power pack. The device would generate one thousand watts for about four hours. She started to attach it to the microwave, fumbled it, dropped it, tried to pick it up without taking her eyes off the shroud.

It watched her. Gave her time.

Stupid ass.

As if it had read the thought, it opened up, a vast blossom, preparing to take her. Electricity rippled through its translucent veils.

Kim connected the power pack, drew out her laser, and began cutting a round hole in the oven’s front panel. The thing moved close, shut off her air. The eyes were gone, and she felt a sudden flow of warmth and well-being as the mist closed down.

She used her fist to punch the disk out of the front panel, set the oven on its legs, aimed it straight ahead, angled it up a bit, and hit the remote.

The entity jerked convulsively.

She kept her thumb down and the shroud crackled and thrashed. Kim caught an electrical burst on one shoulder, smelled burning flesh, but she bit off the scream and seized the oven in her arms. She turned in a circle and the mist spasmed and retreated from the invisible beam.

The night filled with electricity. The cloud withdrew. It whirled in a dizzying crescendo. Suddenly Kim could see only mist and dying sparks rising into the sky, like the aftermath of a campfire when someone has thrown a bucket of water on the logs.

“Regards from Solly,” she said, and continued to fire after it.

The shroud drifted against the wind back out onto the lake.

Against the wind.

The son of a bitch was still alive.

She stumbled after it, splashed into the water, holding the oven clumsily but still firing. The water rose to her thighs and then she stepped in a hole and pitched forward. The microwave went into the water.

She recovered it and lifted it into her arms and tried the remote again. It sizzled and popped and a small cloud of black smoke came out of it.

She dropped the oven, hurried back, and dragged Sheyel out of the water. Then she went into the woods, found Tripley crumpled against a tree, Bricker face down in a small clearing, the remaining guards scattered. All looked dead.

On the lake, the fireflies circled and gained strength.

She collected the Valiant, carried it over to the flyer, and put it in the backseat with the duplicate she’d had made up at Blanchet Preserve.

“Jerry,” she told the AI, “let’s go. Back to the hotel.”

The shroud was re-forming. She watched it grow stronger, brighter, as the flyer rose into the air. To her horror, it detached itself from the lake and began to come after her.

“As fast as we can,” she urged.

They ascended into scattered clouds. The sky was full of moons.

Below, the shroud trailed tendrils as it rose after her. It was adjusting, changing shape, making itself into a sphere. Mist drifted behind it. It looked like a comet.

The thing wants the Valiant. All it cares about is the Valiant.

Were old memories coming back? She was sure it had confused her with Emily. And it had gone quite deliberately for Tripley, who’d been standing harmlessly off to one side. “Jerry,” she said. “Contact Air Rescue.”

“Are we having a difficulty, Dr. Brandywine?”

She had to restrain a near-hysterical response. “Minor problem,” she said.

Jerry opened a channel and a male voice came on. “This is Air Rescue. Please identify yourself.”

“Kim Brandywine. I’m in a Redbird flyer.” Jerry flashed the hull number and aircraft description to them. “We’re in trouble.”

The shroud was coming fast.

“Please state the nature of your emergency, Kim.”

“Yes,” she said. “That’s a little tricky. There are five people dead near the village at Lake Remorse. You won’t have any trouble finding them. There are two flyers with them.”

That got his attention: “What happened to them?” he asked.

The sensors had picked up the shroud, and she watched its marker blinking onscreen.

“They were murdered.”

There was a long silence and then Kim heard a new voice. Female this time. “Kim, this is the supervisor at Air Rescue. Are you reporting a murder?”

“Five murders.”

“Dr. Brandywine,” said Jerry, “we have an energy source in our rear. I am unable to determine its nature.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Kim, please describe your own circumstance and the nature of the emergency. What happened? Are you injured?”

“It’s closing,” said Jerry. “Is it dangerous?”

“Lethal,” said Kim. “Stay ahead of it.”

“We are already approaching maximum velocity.”

“I’m not hurt,” she told Air Rescue. Although her left shoulder was burned and hurt like hell. In addition she’d twisted a knee when she fell with the microwave.

“What happened to the people at the village? Who killed them?”

“It’s still closing,” said Jerry. “At current velocity, it will overtake us in approximately ninety seconds.”

“Can’t we go any faster?”

“We are at maximum thrust, Dr. Brandywine.”

“Air Rescue,” she said, “things are getting a bit busy. If something happens to me, you’ll need to use a microwave.”

“Say again, Kim?”

“Don’t have time.”

“We have a unit lifting off now. Meanwhile, it’ll help us to help you if you can describe your situation. Please try to remain calm.”

Kim killed the radio. “Jerry,” she said, “can we send them a picture of the shroud?”

“Of the what?”

“Of the pursuer.”

“We can do that, Dr. Brandywine.”

“Do it,” she said.

The lake waters were racing beneath them. The shoreline was lost in the dark. Decision time.

“What are we going to do?” asked Jerry.

The Valiant lay in the backseat, black and beautiful. What places have you seen, little friend?

She opened the case holding the duplicate Valiant and switched on a light to see it better. Even the copy would be worth a small fortune.

“Kim. Be advised I’ve transmitted the picture to Air Rescue and a record of this flight to my dispatcher.”

“Good. We’ll see what he makes of it.” She picked up the duplicate and placed it on the seat beside her. “Jerry, open the door.”

“I’m sorry. I cannot do that. It is dangerous to open a door in flight.”

“It’s necessary to avoid contact with our pursuer. Open up.”

“Please do not take offense, Dr. Brandywine. I know the other vehicle is behaving strangely, but I’ve only your word that it is a hazard to this aircraft.”

She sighed and looked down, searching for the panel Solly had shown her. She found it quickly and opened it. The yellow-coated cable. “Sorry, Jerry,” she whispered, and pulled its plug. She recalled the rest of the procedure, threw the same switches Solly had, and took manual control of the aircraft.

The shroud was seconds behind. Kim could see stars in its filmy veils, could in fact see the three giants of Orion’s Belt, Mintaka, Alnilam, and Alnitak.