"Sir, over here!" you called, kneeling on the ground.
Spock joined you. "Yes, ensign?"
"Here's a set of footprints," you said, pointing. "From the size and depth, I'd say they're Wilson's. He was rather smaller and lighter than Sanders." You pointed at the footprints farther along. "Here, Wilson stopped and turned to look at something. My guess is that he heard some sort of noise from the trees over there. Then there–" you pointed to the end of Wilson's tracks "- he was knocked over by something. The tracks are almost undetectable after that, but it seems that he was dragged away by someone." You paused. "Or something," you added quietly. "There were some strange marks in the dirt a little ways back. They were very light, so I wasn't sure if they were significant. However . . ." You searched the ground near the scuffed marks. "Yes, there's more here." You looked up at Spock. "Something attacked Wilson. There's no blood; it did a neat job."
"You are remarkably skilled at tracking, Ensign," Spock commented. "Do you believe Wilson was killed in the attack?"
"We'll only know for sure when we find him, sir." You straightened up. "I propose we follow the tracks in the direction Wilson was dragged off in."
"That would be logical." Spock stood back up too. "Ensign? What are you doing?"
You had moved towards the clump of trees and bushes that Wilson had seemingly turned towards before he was attacked. The undergrowth was thick here, and you had to struggle to get through it. Your foot suddenly struck something warm and solid, and you froze. You looked down, and quickly moved your foot back.
"Mr. Spock, sir?" you called. "I found Sanders, sir."
Spock quickly joined you in the thicket. He looked down at the bloodied corpse for a moment, then up at you.
"This must have been what distracted Wilson, sir," you said quietly. "My guess is that Sanders screamed when he was attacked, and that caught Wilson's attention just long enough for another of the attackers to get him too."
Spock knelt down to examine the body, then glanced up at you. "Ensign, you said that Wilson did not bleed?"
"Yes, sir," you frowned. "He was also dragged off. But . . . why wasn't Sanders?"
"Perhaps they only intended to kill one," Spock speculated. "It may have been their way of capturing the one they were actually after."
You frowned slightly and crouched down beside Spock, gazing at Sanders's body. The yellow fabric of his uniform was smeared with red blood that still trickled from the thin, needlelike gashes on the man's chest and throat.
"Sir, this body is still warm," you murmured, a suspicion building in the back of your mind. "Sanders must have been killed recently. I'm no doctor, but I'd say he can't have been laying here for more than half an hour. Maybe it wasn't a wild animal that killed him. Maybe the killers are intelligent beings. Maybe the killers know there are others like Sanders and Wilson on the planet, and maybe they want to capture all of them. They could have purposely left his body here, knowing that it would attract the attention of those others."
"Like bait in a trap," Spock muttered. "Ensign, if you are correct, we may be in a very serious situation."
Your ears pricked up suddenly. From the way Spock tensed beside you, you knew he had heard it too: a soft rustling and metallic clicking in the trees above you. Very slowly, you looked up. You found yourself staring into the glowing silver eyes of a very large, many legged creature with a head like a squashed tomato and a body that brought to mind an unpleasantly large spider.
"Mr. Spock," you breathed, "we are in a very serious situation."
There was more rustling and clicking behind you, and something thudded against the side of your head. Little white dots erupted at the edges of your sight, then grew until the blinding white enveloped your entire vision. Everything went black.
