Les Tozer closed his eyes and sent his thoughts hurtling across the cosmos. Though muffled by his suit’s helmet, the whisper of wind through the trees still reached his ears, soothing his anxieties even as it aggravated his chronic homesickness. He could almost imagine that gentle breeze blowing over the Hiawatha National Forest, rather than the equatorial valley of Arbor 48 b, fourteen light years from Earth.

 

The green woodlands of Michigan’s upper peninsula had been Les’s childhood home, a pocket of relative wilderness that had been shriveling at the time of his departure. He hated to imagine the current state of that land following the long freeze-sleep their journey had required. Of the whole Earth, for that matter.

 

Arbor, in contrast, was truly wild, a planet teeming with life, untouched by the taint of technology. It was beautiful, a treasure trove of scientific discoveries waiting to be made.

 

In the ninety days since their arrival, they’d identified a species of palm-like tree that secreted antibacterial sap, a host of native fungi that were chock-full of antioxidants, and an adorable little “mouse” whose saliva was a natural anesthetic more effective than Novocain. And they’d barely scratched the surface, even of the local ecosystem. Everything more than a mile out from their landing site remained a complete mystery. They hadn’t even taken a glance.

 

Which was, in Les’s opinion, ridiculous.

 

Here they were, exploring the ultimate frontier, and they were baby-stepping their way along because of regulations written by people who’d died generations ago. As he and his crewmates had slept their way across space, the rules that continued to bind them had probably been rewritten five times. Yet his superiors clung to them, dragging them along like an anchor dropped in the distant past.

 

And why? Because they were a bunch of urban-born chickenshits who’d grown up afraid of the squirrels in their city parks. Their parents had been investment bankers and corporate attorneys who’d plugged them into video games at the age Les had been learning to hunt and trap.

 

Ninety days. Ten more and they’d finally be allowed to go out without their air-tight suits of armor. Even though the atmospheric makeup and local temperatures were well within human tolerances, and they’d yet to identify a single dangerous microbe in their samples, and the largest predator they’d observed couldn’t threaten a chihuahua…

 

Yet they waited.

 

Bullshit.

 

Suddenly, Les realized he was done waiting. Period.

 

With a flurry of motion, he released the seals at the cuffs of his gloves and let them fall to the ground. A flashing light immediately came to life at the corner of his right eye, accompanied by a chiming alarm in his ears. He ignored both, as well as the urgent voice of the base camp controller that followed.

 

Two minutes later, he tossed his socks atop his discarded suit, stretched, and breathed in the nourishing elixir of fresh air. He turned toward the local star, savoring its warmth against the bare skin of his face, and wriggled his toes through the dew-damp grass beneath his feet. For three months, he and his crewmates had moved through this alien ecosystem, but now he alone — finally — had joined it.

 

He considered the reprimand he’d surely face when he got back to camp, but only for a moment. After all, what could they really do? Throw him in county lock-up for the night? Not likely considering the nearest one was fourteen light years away.

 

Five minutes later, reclined atop a bed of soft moss, Les picked a leaf from a nearby shrub, laid it over his eyes, and fell into the deepest sleep he’d enjoyed since thawing out.

 

* * *

 

Despite the idyllic setting, Les’s dreams were dark. He revisited a day spent with his father when he was ten years old. They were out checking traps on a blustery October morning, tramping through the year’s first snow and considering the placement of their tree stands for the upcoming deer season.

 

The very first trap they checked did not have an animal in it. But it had part of one.

 

Growing up in a hunting family, Les had no aversion to the sight of blood and bone, even at ten years old. However, that severed gray paw, chewed off by the desperate coyote who’d owned it, was something different. The idea that an animal could mutilate itself in such a way was horrifying. And heartbreaking.

 

The tears he’d shed that day had disappointed his father, something he’d vowed never to do again.

 

* * *

 

Les awoke when a gust blew off his makeshift sleep mask. When he reached up to replace it, he was startled to find one of the little mouse-like creatures clinging to the back of his hand. He shook it off with ease, but in doing so stained the chest of his polymer skinsuit with a single drop of blood.

 

“Stupid thing bit me,” he whispered. Prodding the tiny wound with the fingers of his other hand, he was shocked to discover it didn’t hurt at all. In fact, numbness had crept all the way up to his wrist.

 

Anesthetic saliva, he remembered. Crazy.

 

Sitting up was difficult with one unfeeling hand, and because of a strong, sudden wave of lightheadedness.

 

The sight of his mangled feet, mostly consumed by dozens more of the tiny animals, prompted a scream the likes of which had never before escaped Les’s throat.

 

Just before his consciousness slipped away again, his mind flashed back to the memory from his nightmare. He’d always wondered if the coyote could possibly have survived such a grievous injury. He didn’t think so. He didn’t think either of them could.