Alien Jungle by Roxanne Smolen

nodded.
    “We seeded the area with motion detectors,” Madsen said, “but they kept registering the vegetation growth. So we tapped into our weather satellite, used it as a sensor blanket.”
    “You came prepared,” Wilde said.
    “Not for those things,” Madsen told him. “Nothing kills them.”
    “And even with the sensors, they’re hard to track.” Cole’s words jolted with his hurried step. “They blend into the jungle. You could be standing right next to one and not know.”
    “Until they drag you away,” Madsen said.
    “How many are there?” Trace asked.
    Madsen muttered, “They don’t hold still for a head count.”
    “Sensors have them at forty-two.” Cole panted. “But we don’t know if that’s an accurate figure. They move fast.”
    “So we’ve seen,” Wilde said.
    They reached a steep rise. Yellow vegetation grew up the side like stacked elephant ears. Cole used them as steps, climbing quickly.
    Trace matched his pace. He looked back at the troop. Wilde and Madsen climbed together, discussing the settlement’s weaponry. Impani climbed one-handed while taking a resonance scan. Anselmi and Natica followed. Anselmi looked puzzled and distracted. Behind them, the other two colonists kept their flamethrowers lit and their eyes on the jungle.
    Impani held up her resonator. “I’ve got energy readings ahead.”
    “That’s the alarm grid,” Madsen said. “We modified the Doppler. Keeps the camp under surveillance.”
    Another howl reached them.
    “Almost there,” Cole said.
    He sounded winded. The man was nearly his father’s age. What were they thinking, coming to a world like this?
    They reached the hilltop. The jungle broke as if a line had been drawn. Sunlight filtered through the hazy sky.
    Cole leaned forward, hands on his knees. He motioned ahead. “That’s our camp.”
    Trace looked down the valley to see a sprawling settlement. Relief released him, and he realized how tense he’d been, as if he’d been holding his breath until he found his father. The area had the usual Quonset huts and utility domes, but also smaller domes connected with translucent tubes. “Looks like the hamster village I used to have.”
    Cole chuckled.
    Madsen said, “We call them bubble tents. We thought they’d make a cleaner environment. You pump in filtered air to keep them inflated, and any dust or debris blows out the vents. But the filters keep clogging.”
    “Where are all the people?” Natica asked.
    “Inside. We don’t move around much during the day. It’s safer at night. The problem is night is only five hours long. Counter that with fifteen hours of daylight.” Madsen led them toward the colonists’ camp. As he walked, he pulled a communications device from his jacket pocket. “It’s us. Be ready to reset the alarm.”
    On cue, a strident siren rose over the settlement. Several men rushed outdoors, their flamethrowers ignited. The alarm cut off abruptly.
    Trace walked at Cole’s side. He felt more confident with each step. The mission was moving forward. They’d found the colonists. Now he only needed to secure their safety.
    The valley had been cleared of the tree-like mushrooms, but the ground cover was still thick. Trace avoided several patches of stringy orange vines. Halfway down the hill, a stand of reeds clacked loudly.
    Wilde jumped. “What made them do that? There’s no wind.”
    “You get used to plants moving on their own around here,” Cole said.
    As they neared the camp, more people rushed outdoors to greet them. They had the gaunt appearance of the overworked. Trace smiled and glanced around. He saw his father.
    Aldus Hanson emerged from a dome that appeared to be the camp’s hub. He also looked haggard and drawn. He limped toward them on his half-foot. Several colonists trailed.
    Cole raised his arms and shouted, “The Colonial Scouts have arrived.”
    “Children?” Aldus bellowed. “They sent children when we asked for an army?”
    “Where are all the