The northern shore was coming up fast. She took the flyer down on the water.

The shroud followed. Kim cradled the duplicate starship in her arms, released her harness, and pushed the door open. The wind howled and tried to slam it shut. She jammed her foot against it, holding it, and sighed. She’d have preferred to hold the starship out where her pursuer could see it—but as soon as she got it through the door the wind ripped it out of her hands.

She watched it tumble into the water.

To her horror, the shroud paid no attention and kept coming.

Either it hadn’t seen the bait, or it had detected the deception. Kim muttered a profanity she had never used before and dragged the Valiant, the original, onto her lap. She tried to pin her position down. A hundred meters from shore. Broken pier on a thirty-degree bearing. Finger of land jutting into the water on her left. And then, heart pounding, she pitched overboard the most valuable artifact known to the species.

The thing still did not veer off.

My God, it was after her.

She raced across the water and in over the shoreline, barely above treetop level. “You dumb son of a bitch,” she screamed, as her door banged shut. “I threw it in the lake.”

The flyer was too slow.

The shroud closed on her. It was near enough that she could make out eyes, four of them now, distributed across its forward section, like windows in the cockpit of an aircraft.

It drew close to her tail, filling the aft screen, watching her as though it could see through the flyer’s own monitoring system, could see her. It touched the aircraft, began to engulf the rudders and the rear jets. She yanked hard over and fought for altitude. It tried to follow but the turn was too much and it disintegrated and scattered across the sky. She congratulated herself, leveled off at two thousand meters and turned back toward Eagle Point. At best speed.

Air Rescue was still talking to her, asking what was going on, demanding to know where the bodies were, what the nature of her emergency was, assuring her of dire penalties if the images she was sending turned out to be virtuals.

“It’s real,” she told them.

“What is it?”

Behind her, the fireflies were beginning to reassemble.

Son of a bitch.

“Kim, what is going on?”

“I’m being chased by something. I don’t know what it is.”

“All right. Stay away from it. Help’s on the way.”

“Tell them to be careful. The thing’s deadly.”

“What can you tell us about it?”

“I can tell you that directed microwaves will disrupt it.”

“Microwaves.” There was a brief conversation with someone else. Then: “Where did it come from?”

“I don’t know. But it’s pulled itself together out there and it’s starting this way again.”

“We’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

Kim saw lights coming from the direction of Eagle Point. “Thanks,” she said.

She was several kilometers in front of it now, and it was no more than a fuzzy patch of cloud in the moonlight. But she saw the comet head re-forming, saw it moving against the backdrop of other clouds.

Her sensors told her it was gathering speed. Coming fast and coming faster.

She waited, watched it approach, watched it fill the sky behind her. Its mad gaze stared malevolently out of her screens. And when she could stand it no more, when it was climbing her tailpipe, she turned aside and sent it hurtling once again across the sky.

Stupid goddamn critter.

Trailing filaments touched her starboard wing. Lights went off, a red lamp on the console began blinking furiously, and the engine died. The flyer fell. The sky reeled around her and Kim’s stomach tried to climb up into her throat. Engine failure was supposed to be something that never happened. But if it did, procedure required taking a minute before trying to restart. Give the automatics time to clear the lines. She held on as long as she could while the flyer dropped through the sky. Then she hit the button. The magnetics caught and the engine came on.

Trees and hills swept past.

She pulled back on the yoke, gained enough to clear obstacles, but stayed low. Keep down in thicker air. That should make it more difficult for the shroud.

It was off her screens, but she thought she could see its remnants, long wispy trails against the stars.

The red lamp was still blinking.

Batteries.

She requested a readout on her power supplies.

“Kim.” A new voice. A man’s. “Steer northeast and gain some altitude. We’ll take it from here.”

A police cruiser appeared above off to her right.

“Glad to see you guys,” she told them. “Heads up. The thing’s bad news.”

The shroud was re-forming.

A second unit moved in. Kim scanned for their frequency, hoping to hear what they were saying to each other, but without Jerry she couldn’t find it.

The warning lamp was blinking furiously. Get down before you fall down. Ordinarily, she’d have looked for the nearest piece of flat land. But not tonight. She returned to her Eagle Point course.

The police had commenced firing. They were using bolt lasers. Big ones, far more potent than the handheld models with which Tripley’s security team had been armed.

Caught in the assault, the shroud rippled orange and white. Sections of it were blown away. Tendrils fountained into the air, and the creature began to dissolve.

The cruiser moved in and attacked at point-blank range.

“—Maybe not a good idea—” she told them.

From Kim’s perspective it looked like a minuscule electrical storm. But suddenly the charges stopped, the lights went out, and the aircraft disappeared into the darkness. Moments later, near the ground, a fireball erupted.

The radio was silent.

Power reserves gave her thirty minutes. Getting tight. Where was she going to land that she’d be safe from that goddamn thing?

“Kim.” Air Rescue again. “Keep moving. Get out of the area.”

“I’m trying to do that.” The sky to her rear was dark. “The shooting’s stopped back there,” she said.

“I know.”

Her sensors reacquired the shroud.

“You need something more effective than a laser. You have anything that can transmit concentrated microwaves?”

“We’re looking into it. Kim, can you move a little faster?”

“I’m losing power. I’m not sure I can make the city.”

“Just as well. Head east. Away from the mountains. Look for a place to set down. We have more units en route.”

Head east. “Unless you’ve got something better than you had last time,” she said, “you’re just going to get people killed. Me among them. Maybe you should call in the fleet.”

“Trust us. We’ll take care of it.”

Right.

The shroud was coming again. Moving with increasing velocity through the night.

Damned stupid Sheyel. Nobody ever listens.

A string of lights raced across the countryside, westbound into the mountains. The night seemed peaceful, orderly, mundane. Whatever aircraft were coming to her rescue had not yet appeared onscreen. In all that vast stillness, only the train and her pursuer were moving. But she had a substantial lead.

Nevertheless the creature was going to kill her, and there didn’t seem to be much she could do about it.

The string of lights started to go out, front to rear. The train was entering the Culbertson Tunnel.