Ledbetter confided in me that he had a peculiar new transformation as well. His was quite different, however. It involved his sense of hearing. He claimed he could now hear my heart beating inside my chest, and he complained that it made it difficult for him to sleep at night.

  I didn’t believe him at first, but after I moved the queen, whose corpse was vast and weighed quite a bit even on Eris, I began to suspect he was telling the truth.

  At some point, I realized we were all going to turn into whatever Corporal Tench had transformed into. Perhaps, unlike him, we’d be less able to control our emotions, thoughts, and behaviors—especially after we’d been trapped in these warrens for months—or possibly years.

  But fate took a strange turn two weeks after our arrival at the alien warren.

  “Someone’s tapping at the door!” Ledbetter shouted from the passageway.

  None of the rest of us had heard a thing. But, as I said, Ledbetter could hear things.

  “Are you sure?” Quinn asked.

  “Yes sir, I’m sure. I can hear it.”

  By this time, Lt. Quinn knew of Ledbetter’s superior hearing and had grown to trust it. “All right, company,” he said. “This is probably it. Our last stand.”

  “Why would you say that?” Dr. Sharaf demanded.

  Quinn looked at her. “Think about it for a minute, woman. We arrived on Eris and found a single lab buried beneath the ice, right?”

  “Don’t speak to me as if I’m an imbecile!”

  “But you are acting dumb. Do you really think this lab is the only one on the planet? What if this whole rock, every mile or two, has a colony like this one?”

  Her eyes grew wide, and she looked quite alarmed. Apparently, this thought had never occurred to her.

  It had never occurred to me either. In fact, I was quite happy that Quinn had decided to keep these sorts of dark beliefs to himself until this critical moment.

  “Who knows?” Quinn said. “Maybe they have a way of transmitting messages to one another. Maybe the queen next door has been trying to call her sister for weeks, but she’s gotten no answer. Now, she’s sent her troops to find out what went wrong.”

  Solemnly, we gathered our force and stood in two ranks. The first rank was kneeling in front, while the second was standing behind them.

  We aimed our weapons upward toward the great airlock, waiting for it to open. At last, the external hatch did open. I heard it hiss with the audible escape of gases. We all listened as the air was cycled out, then back in again.

  “They’re coming,” Quinn said in a harsh whisper. “Prepare for depressurization, guys. Faceplates down.”

  We all snapped our faceplates closed. We polished the tips of our weapon emitters one last time. Our batteries weren’t full, but hopefully, we had enough juice left in our guns to finish a few more of these monsters before we were overwhelmed.

  It seemed to take forever, but finally, the inner door of the airlock sighed open, and one single laser bolt spat out.

  It was Charlie who had fired the shot. Fortunately, his aim was poor, and the bolt only gouged the ceiling, creating a sizzling hole in the metal.

  “Hold your fire!” Quinn shouted.

  Stepping toward us was Captain Hansen. She was shouting the same thing to her troops.

  Both sides were shocked to meet the other. Sergeant Cox led his own fresh squad of marines in Hansen’s wake.

  The two halves of Red Company surged forward. We clasped hands, hammered backs, smiled, and cheered. Our brothers in arms had come back to rescue us.

  “I don’t get it, Captain,” Lt. Quinn said. “You took off over a week ago. Why’d you come back for us?”

  “I didn’t,” she said, “not exactly.” She turned back toward the rear of her squad of troops, “Perhaps Accountant Blackwood can explain.”

  There he was: a tall, thin, oddly misshapen figure at the very back of the assembly. He was the last one at the airlock and the last one to tentatively step inside the alien hive. He kept his faceplate locked down firmly, breathing only the safe air inside his spacesuit.

  Blackwood noticed our stares. He immediately pointed an overly long finger in my direction. “It was him,” he said. “He’s the reason we came back.”

  “What?” Quinn frowned, turning to stare at me. “What did Starn do?”

  “He met with Yeoman Carter,” Blackwood said, “before Borag lifted off. She confessed everything. There was contact—physical contact.”

  “What are you talking about? There wasn’t time—” Quinn began, but then Sergeant Cox stepped up, and he gave Quinn a very meaningful stare.

  “Could I have a word, sir?”

  Frowning, Quinn allowed himself to be pulled aside. The two of them spoke heatedly together for a moment.

  In the meantime, Captain Hansen stepped up and examined her first dead ant alien.

  “What are these disgusting creatures?” she asked.

  We explained in great detail, with Dr. Sharaf taking on most of the burden. She spoke as if she was giving a lecture at a college. Soon, Captain Hansen went from fascinated to bored.

  “All right, all right,” she said. “So, you got in here somehow and killed all of them. So much for a friendly first-contact scenario.”

  “Captain,” I said, daring to speak to her directly, “why did you come back? I don’t quite understand.”

  “Because you contaminated my yeoman, Private. Once this was revealed, it was too late to quarantine her. Essentially, she had already contaminated my entire ship. We were all declared quarantined at that moment. Therefore, we calculated we might as well come back here and see if any of you were still alive.”

  “Or better yet,” Blackwood said, “if there were any profit-bearing artifacts that could be returned to Mars.”

  Captain Hansen glanced at Blackwood. “Some of us are very concerned about our finances.”

  “Someone has to be,” Blackwood said. He seemed quite pleased with himself.

  Blackwood kept glancing at me, giving me little eyebrow raises and other odd gestures. Slowly, I began to get an idea. Could it be that this was all part of Blackwood’s grand plan? Had he lied about Freya and me having somehow fraternized? All that, just so we could get Captain Hansen to turn the ship around and return to pick us up?

  It seemed fantastic, but I couldn’t think of another explanation. Frowning, I found I didn’t like the lie. I didn’t like being blamed for the endangerment of the entire crew of Borag. But I also didn’t like the idea of being marooned here on Eris forever. So, I decided to keep my mouth shut.

  By the time Sergeant Cox and Lt. Quinn had finished their discussion, Quinn seemed to be in the same mood that I was. We both stopped talking about why Borag had returned.

  We took our time after that, showing Captain Hansen around the entire installation, we displayed the bodies, the technology, the devices we’d found, and even, perhaps most shocking of all, the room full of frozen beings from the distant past. Dr. Sharaf showed her the samples she’d taken, all the recordings, the measurements.

  Captain Hansen’s eyes were wide. “This, plus the alien discoveries… this is going to be worth a fortune if we’re allowed to turn these things in to Earth-Gov.”

  “Don’t worry, Captain,” Blackwood said. “Fortunes have a way of speaking for themselves.”

  Eventually, the fresher half of Red Company helped the rest of us, who had gotten rather worn out after spending weeks stuck in this hole. We returned to Borag, and there were a lot of examinations, scrubbings, and samples taken by the medical crew.

  Eventually, we were released into the ship’s general population. This surprised me, as we were still taking Dr. Sharaf’s injections to keep ourselves in a normal state. Apparently, between her and Blackwood, the medical people were convinced we were harmless.

  It was a real treat to be allowed to lie down on a bunk. A hot shower, hot food, and a real bunk. These things had never been so comforting before.

  Our half of Red Company was either dead or exhausted, so Sergeant Cox was left with the job of going down into the alien labyrinth to plunder the place. Our holds were soon filled with strange artifacts and frozen bodies. I noticed that the tubes containing the specimens taken from Earth were carried aboard and stowed away in the deepest freezers in the aft hold.

  A few days later, the great ship lifted off again, and we headed back toward Mars. On the return trip, things were a lot more subdued. The officers had been worried about morale aboard the great vessel, but they didn’t have to be. Everyone knew we were heading to our home port at Mars, a place of relative freedom and comfort. That was a lot less daunting, a lot less damaging to the average sailor’s mind, than was a trip into the unknown.

  Perhaps even more important was the simple fact that we all now knew we carried a cargo of true value. Not even the oldest spacers aboard could recall having found anything remotely comparable. Cargoes of titanium, uranium, plutonium, and diamond were all as nothing compared to this alien treasure trove.

  When we were about halfway home, Blackwood came out of his lair on the highest decks. “I have good news,” he announced over the ship’s public address system. “Everyone aboard is eligible for a large bonus, twenty times the amount that was distributed at the start of this mission.”

  Cheers went up all over the ship. Some people wept. The D-class contracts, they would be able to buy out their indenture status.

  Ledbetter grabbed onto me and did a little dance. “We’re rich,” he said. “We’re friggin’ rich.”

  I smiled, but I kept my eyes on Blackwood. His grim visage still filled the ship’s screens. He wasn’t done yet. Even I knew that in moments like this, he always delivered the good news first.

  “However,” Blackwood continued, “we have a new contract that everyone aboard must sign in order to gain access to this well-deserved fraction of the ship’s profits.”

  Groans arose from the group at Red Company headquarters. These groans were not as loud as the cheers had been before, but they were significant. Trust was thin in our group.

  “Do not be concerned,” Blackwood said, “these new contracts are not onerous in nature.”

  “Yeah, right,” Sergeant Cox yelled at the screen.

  “But they are… significantly binding, especially in the area of non-disclosure.”

  Blackwood went on, explaining that the biggest detail of the new contracts was that we weren’t allowed to speak of what we had seen on Eris. That if we ever discussed any details of this mission, of its nature, of the events that had occurred, even of the destination itself, we would all be in forfeiture of our shares. We’d lose all our profits, quite possibly our freedom—and perhaps even, we were led to understand, our very lives.

  By the end of this little speech, we were somber, yet still we were eager to sign. How could we not be? Except for our bonus prior to this mission, no one aboard Borag had seen a serious profit in a long time. This was our chance to get back in the black again, to have a positive net worth. This meant freedom and comfort for all of us, and all we had to do was keep our mouths shut.

  The decision was a relatively easy one. I made it in my mind immediately. I planned to sign. Perhaps, I’d even go back to Earth when this was all over with. Who knew?

  “And,” Blackwood continued, after we’d all digested what had been said so far, “there is one more tiny wrinkle. Hopefully, this will not be a barrier to everyone’s happiness and success on this mission, but we shall see. The last stipulation of the new contract, which I urge you all to sign, is that you must all sign it. If anyone aboard Borag refuses to abide by these terms, the new contract is null and void for everyone.”

  He let that sink in for a few moments, and our eyes roved. We glanced at one another.

  Already, I could tell what we were thinking. Who would it be? There had to be a holdout. Who was going to suddenly become principled or otherwise unwilling to sign? Who was going to figure they could get a better deal? Who was going to blow it for all of us?

  Already, my mind had leaped onto the next critical point. I understood now that Blackwood was a genius. By making an all-or-nothing deal, he was putting a fantastic level of pressure upon even the most reluctant. After all, we had about three months to go before we reached Mars. That was a long, long time to live aboard a spacecraft full of people who hated your guts.

  After that it took a few days, but eventually, everyone aboard signed. Even the officers who didn’t want to. Even the crustiest old cranks who argued we could get a better deal. They were not listened to.

  In the end, Blackwood prevailed. The deal was signed, eagerly by some, reluctantly by others—but it was signed.

  I wondered how long it would be before someone leaked the information, and the word got out about the alien bases. Could it really be possible for nearly a thousand people aboard a mining rig to all keep quiet, even when they were drunk, even when they were in a narcotic stupor? I frowned, thinking that over. Dr. Sharaf had indicated that in the past, such bases had been discovered, but we had never heard about it. I had to surmise, therefore, that agreements like this had been drafted before, and they’d been successfully enforced. Quite ruthlessly, I imagined.

  In every human society, there were always certain facts that weren’t allowed to be known. The existence of an alien society that predated mankind’s civilization appeared to be one of those truths.

  But in order to keep the secret, there must be real authorities, real teeth behind Blackwood and his words. This contract wasn’t just something between Interplanetary Excavations and each of us. No, it went further than that. It had to go right up to the governments. The media had to know. To keep quiet about this kind of story, for so long, everyone had to know the truth—except the people at large.

  Those quick, easy steps of logic led me to the inescapable conclusion that I’d better keep my frigging mouth shut about this voyage. If I wanted to keep my freedom, my money, and my head on my shoulders, I was going to have to keep quiet.

  When all the wrangling with the contracts was done, the large ship’s displays began to show the growing, rust-orange ball that was Mars. It grew imperceptibly larger with every passing day, and the crew became ever more pleasant to be around.

  Freya, in fact, was spending more and more time accompanying me on the mid-decks. We were both allowed to fraternize and attend certain bars and entertainment spots, few and crowded though they were, aboard Borag.

  She and I had both become somewhat freer with our expenditure of credits, which allowed us to enjoy dates together as we never had. Instead of freebie hikes outside the Martian dome, we were enjoying relatively expensive meals, beverages and even senso-movies in the ship’s tiny theater.

  In what was perhaps a wise move, Blackwood had allowed everyone’s credit limit to rise. We were essentially being allowed to spend some of the money we hadn’t yet received, to borrow against our shares of the profits that would come at the end of the voyage.

  It was difficult not to partake of this early bounty. I made sure I didn’t indenture myself again, mind you. I went nowhere near any gambling casinos, legal or otherwise. But I did my best to entertain Freya, and she was even more successful in entertaining me.

  In private, we occasionally discussed matters such as the big lie that Blackwood had told to get Captain Hansen to return to Eris.

  “There’s no way he could have done it alone,” she said.

  “What do you mean?” I asked her.

  “Captain Hansen has to suspect the truth,” she said. “In fact, I don’t even think it was Blackwood’s idea, necessarily.”

  “Explain what happened, then. You were aboard the ship. I wasn’t.”

  “Yes, well, we flew for a week or so. I was devastated. Half of Red Company was gone, you included. There was nothing more depressing to contemplate than the long voyage home with men like Lacroix trying to take advantage of me, rather than a gentleman like you.”

  She smiled, and I smiled back. I didn’t bother to mention that this was perhaps one of the first times in my life I’d been called a gentleman.

  It was probably the uniform. It both gave women like her a sense that I was honorable, and I couldn’t deny that it also had given me something to be honorable about. The marines were good for me, even if the service had been personally costly—in terms of the blood lost.

  Freya was talking again, so I tuned back in.

  “Anyway,” she said, “I went to the captain and then to the other officers, and I tried to urge them to go back. Blackwood took me aside. Maybe that was when he got the idea. He accused me of having fraternized with you and being infected. He claimed I must have been at least exposed to whatever contaminants you’d been exposed to. Of course, the whole idea was preposterous. You never left the Teklution ship. You stayed there in quarantine as you were supposed to.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call it quarantine,” I said. “I was busy fighting these weird creatures.”

  Freya frowned at me. I hadn’t told her too much about that part of our recent ordeal.

  There were secrets within secrets in this group. We’d all been sworn to secrecy about the existence of the alien base in the first place, but there was another, deeper layer of secrecy involved. That set of secrets was held by those who’d survived those long days on Eris alone. We were still taking injections concocted by Dr. Sharaf, for instance.

  We still had to get a monthly injection to keep our mutations under control. At least we each had our own personal supplies of the medication. But I’d wonder from time to time how many other humans were in the Solar System somewhere taking these same regularly administered injections. It was strange to think about.

  So, there was a mutation secret, a Red Company secret shared only with Dr. Sharaf and half the marines aboard the ship, and then there was the ship-wide secret. Everyone aboard Borag knew about the aliens we’d discovered, and we all knew what had happened to the Teklution ship.

  Lies within lies.