“Huh… Well, let me show you.” I activated the room’s central display and began uploading the data Natasha had managed to extract before I’d ripped her connection loose. “The parasites aren’t operating randomly, sirs. They’re a Galactic species with technology that rivals or exceeds anything we’ve encountered in Province 921 before.”

  There were a few hisses of dismay from the staffers as the holograms showed microscopic images of nanite particles. Their metallic structures writhed with purposeful coordination. Magnified a thousand times, they looked predatory, like little silvery spiders.

  “It’s the belief of Natasha among others,” I said, making it sound like I had a science team to work with, “that these Galactics are able to spoof our bioscanners. That’s why Dr. Eckert appeared completely unaffected until she chose to reveal her true nature. They’ve mastered the art of deception at a level that makes it difficult to know who’s who.”

  Graves leaned forward to study the data. “You’re telling me they can fool our most sensitive scanning equipment?”

  “If they want to, sir. But it’s worse than that. They don’t just fool it, they manipulate it. They feed us exactly the information they want us to have. They can show us infected personnel in various states, or they can have them lie dormant and appear not to be on the grid at all. That’s what helped lure us in. They made us think we were dealing with a manageable threat.”

  “You’re saying they not only hid some of themselves from us but also revealed others on purpose?”

  “That’s exactly right, sir.” I highlighted sections of the tactical readings. “In reality, they have over a hundred combat-capable units hidden throughout the station.”

  “That’s simply impossible,” Winslade interjected.

  “Their leader clearly showed what she wanted to show,” I said, rudely cutting him off. “These parasite things can reanimate deceased tissue, convert corpses into functional units. Plus, they seem to be capable of creating additional hosts from available biological material. They’re sort of jury-rigging something together. From scraps.”

  “Disgusting,” Winslade hissed.

  “McGill,” Graves said, “are you sure they’re from the Core Worlds? You’re sure there’s some kind of new Galactic? This whole thing, it seems to me somewhat similar to a plan put together by the Skay. They like to do biology mixed in with AI and machine parts.”

  “That’s true, sir,” I admitted. “But this is different. These are using nanoparticles to control organic creatures such as ourselves. We’ve seen no evidence of large biomechanical machines of the kind the Skay like to produce. With these creatures, it was more like fighting zombies with advanced weapons training.”

  Winslade waved for me to shut up as he dealt with some fresh reports coming in over his computer scroll. Finally, he cleared his throat and tapped on the glass of the holotable. The holograms, big and small, jumped like little bouncing fireflies fuzzing in and out of a pixelated state.

  “Tribune,” he said, addressing Graves. “I’ve received confirmation of some of these seemingly wild statements by McGill. In fact, there’s grim new information.”

  “Go ahead, Winslade.”

  “Multiple star systems are now reporting losing contact with large groups of human residents.”

  “Residents?” I blurted. “You mean colonists? How many damned illegal colony worlds is Earth gov running these days?”

  “That’s classified, McGill,” Graves said sternly. “Continue, Winslade.”

  “As I was saying, these… residents… have been going dark. That pattern has been matched here, at Kepler. There have been three entire agricultural settlements, in fact, on Kepler-B that are no longer in contact.”

  “What’s that? Something like fifty thousand individuals?” Graves sounded impressed despite himself.

  “Or higher.”

  “Hmm… That’s a significant portion of the population of Kepler-62.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Graves looked at the numbers, which were shifting on the big map right in front of us.

  “It seems to me this colony is already lost,” he told everyone. No one responded, because it was frigging obvious. “We’re looking at a systematic invasion. They’re not just randomly infecting populations. They’re not just enslaving a few individuals to talk to us. No, they’re conducting organized, mass conversions. They’re taking over this entire colony. We’re at war, gentlemen, and I’d call this a war of extermination.”

  “That’s right. If this sort of thing ever got to Earth…” Winslade mused without finishing the thought.

  “This is as bad as when those flying crystal friggers came out of space and started annihilating planets,” I added.

  “At least in that case,” Graves said, “we knew when a world was under assault, and we could get there and maybe do something about it. In this case, we’re not completely sure. The enemy are working through infiltration and conversion. By the time we realize they’re there, it might already be too late. We might have already lost other star systems. We don’t even know which ones they are.”

  Graves was a paranoid man, but in this rare instance, I felt that his paranoia was a reasonable reaction to the situation. We all stared at the charts for a while, shifting numbers around.

  “McGill,” Graves said, “you mentioned that you’ve demonstrated some level of immunity to these parasites during your encounter. Has anyone isolated the source of this apparent personal resistance of yours?”

  “Uh…” I said, considering both a truthful answer and a lie. I immediately went with the lie. “It’s a sheer mystery, sir. No one’s figured it out yet, least of all me.”

  Graves nodded.

  “Possibly,” Winslade suggested, “McGill here has consistently registered as retarded to these aliens.”

  “So what?”

  “I’m suggesting that his ape-like behavior may prevent his mind from being a suitable playground for these advanced alien parasites.”

  “Huh…” Graves frowned. “Are you saying McGill is so dumb, so primitive in nature, that the enemy either find it impossible or unpleasant to implant themselves in his skull the way they do the rest of us?”

  “Something like that, sir. It only makes sense.”

  I made no objection to this conversation, as it all made good sense to me as well.

  Graves made a dismissive gesture. “Whatever. Regardless of the reason, it makes McGill tactically valuable.”

  “But,” Winslade observed, “he could also represent a danger.”

  Both of them looked at me sidelong. I caught the implication immediately. “What? Are you saying I’m compromised? Is that what you’re saying, Primus, sir?”

  Winslade gave a smooth shrug. “We need to think of all the possibilities. Your immunity could be genuine, or it could be simply another one of their sophisticated infiltration strategies. Perhaps they’re hiding within you, McGill. Perhaps they’re using you as a long-term pawn.”

  Winslade sidled forward, his pistol suddenly in his skinny hand. Now, mind you, Winslade wasn’t aiming the gun directly at me, but he was as paranoid a man as had ever been born. He’d shot me as many times as I’d shot him. Well… at least, almost as many. No doubt he was always itching for a chance to even the score. He looked at me with beetling brows and a lot of doubt in those eyes.

  Graves watched this exchange with calculating eyes.

  “Should we execute McGill just to be sure?” Winslade asked. “Possibly, that would be the most prudent move at this juncture.”

  I, for my own part, had my mouth gaping open. I didn’t like any of this talk.

  “Whoa, whoa,” I said. “Come on, guys. Just because the bugs can’t dig through my overly thick skull doesn’t mean I’m on their side. I’m just the same old McGill I always was!”

  “Maybe,” Graves said, eyeballing me.

  “I have a recommendation, sir,” Winslade said carefully. “I’ll keep a close eye on McGill.”

  The muzzle of his sidearm was drifting even closer to lining up with my head.

  Graves nodded. “Just until we understand more of this parasite’s capabilities. Winslade, you’re to keep an eye on McGill. If you feel that he is going outside the bounds, if he’s somehow become a convert to the enemy side—shoot him.”

  For the first time all damn day, Winslade smirked. He was smart enough, however, to pretend he didn’t like the idea.

  “Only if I have to, Tribune, only if I have to.” I tossed him a glare, and he gazed smugly back.

  I raised both my hands high before the situation could escalate any further. “Now listen here, guys. I know you have a right to be suspicious. If I were in your positions, I’d be asking all these same questions.” I looked directly at Winslade as he seemed to be the one in charge of my fate at this juncture.

  There was no way to get Graves to change his mind. He was too paranoid. The man was as cold as a mortician’s hand dipped in ice water. But Winslade…? He could usually be reasoned with.

  “What can I do to verify my bona fide status as a full-fledged human, Mr. Primus, sir?”

  Winslade eyed me. “Submit to comprehensive biological scans for a beginning. A full neural mapping. Physiological evaluation,” Winslade began to list these things, ticking off his fingers. “We’ll have to have tests. Invasive, thorough tests. We need to eliminate the possibility of covert infection and behavioral modification.”

  “Invasive, huh?” I asked. “Well, there’s this bio-specialist down on Blue Deck who’s perfect for that job. Her name’s Baguette. I’ll have her run every test known to man on my carcass. But may I say, sirs, we can’t afford to waste too much time on paranoia when there’s a Galactic invasion in progress. Perhaps I’m best used on the front lines, rather than playing guinea pig for a bunch of needle-happy Blue Deck ghouls.”

  Graves considered. He waggled the finger in my direction. “I agree with McGill. We have no up-front proof, other than the sheer absence of effects upon him, that he is one of the infected. Accordingly, we’ll use his apparent immunity to help gather more intel. In short, we’re going to keep an eye on you, McGill. We’re going to send you in for more dangerous missions.”

  “Ah-ha,” Winslade said, getting the point. “It’s unlikely he’ll be revived with these nanites controlling him.”

  “Exactly right. If you’re suspicious of someone, kill them. Print out a new version. Should clean up all the problems—but we might as well get some use out of him, first.”

  “Right, right,” Winslade said, considering. “Sheer genius, sir.”

  “No brown-nosing, Winslade. I told you about that.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”

  The briefing then continued for what seemed like another hour to me. They analyzed technical data and planned responses to various scenarios. Once I was no longer under threat of immediate execution, I grew bored and tuned out.

  What little that did soak into my poor excuse for a brain wasn’t new. It was clear we were facing an enemy unlike anything else we’d ever experienced. These Galactics—if that’s what they really were—were capable of turning our own people against us, while remaining virtually undetected.

  At long last, all the planning and speeching came to an end. I gratefully made my way back to my quarters, seeking out a well-needed nap on my bunk. My cabin was small, but it was also private, one of the few advantages of the Centurion’s rank. I sealed the door and activated some privacy protocols. Finally stretching out until my boots hung over the end of the bed, I allowed myself to relax.

  I tried to go to sleep, but sleep didn’t come. That was weird for me, so I sat up on my bunk with a grunt, feeling somewhat frustrated.

  The heel of my boot kicked something. Reaching down, I pulled out a long, narrow case. I frowned at it for a moment, forgetting what the hell it was—but then I remembered.

  It was Armel’s sword. I’d brought the thing with me out into space. I don’t know why. I guess I didn’t feel comfortable leaving it back in Georgia Sector. What if Armel had caught a revive somehow and came looking for it? He would have pestered my folks—maybe even killed them. Who knows?

  Opening up the case, I drew Armel’s sword out and lifted the ornate blade. It caught the light from the overhead fixtures. I had taken it from the Frenchman after our confrontation on Rage World. To me, the weapon represented victory. Victory over what had seemed to be a superior enemy. That’s exactly the kind of talisman I needed now.

  I lifted the sword, feeling the comfortable weight of it in my hands. The blade was perfectly balanced, of course, its edge still holding the molecular sharpness that Armel prized in a blade like this. I’d once snapped one of these swords in half—an old-fashioned antique—and he’d damn near gone berserk. I smiled at the memory.

  Making experimental cuts that swished through the air, I thought about the parasites that had demonstrated sophisticated planning, advanced technology, and complete ruthlessness. They’d turned an entire research station into a trap designed specifically to capture Legion personnel. If they could do that with a small civilian facility, what could they accomplish with a major colony world?

  I made a few more wild slashes through the air with the sword. I thumbed the switch on the pommel, and it flared into life. Colorful plasmas rippled along the length of the blade. I knew that the power process would not only make it more deadly in the sense of wounding and burning its victims, but the blade would now deliver a vicious, possibly fatal shock to anyone it touched.

  My door chimed, and I let the sword drift down to my side, flicking it off.

  “Enter,” I called out, not bothering to put the blade away.

  Adjunct Collins stepped inside my cabin. She eyeballed me and the sword in turn.

  “Perhaps I should come back at another time,” she said.

  “Nah, come on in and sit down.” There was only one chair at the desk, which I offered to her. I sat on my bunk.

  “What’s up, Adjunct?” I asked her, flexing the blade between my gloves and making an effort not to touch the edge, which would, of course, slice right through my gloves. With a blade like this, your fingers could be off and wriggling around on the deck before you knew you’d touched the edge and slipped up.

  “Um…” she said, staring at the blade, “I want to apologize for Winslade’s accusation, sir.”

  “Apologize? Why are you apologizing? You risked everything out there to get intelligence back to us.”

  I shrugged and began to make a few more hacking motions. Continuing my sword work, Collins shrank back in the chair, trying to get as far as possible from the swishing blade.

  “In his position, I would probably figure I was some kind of alien doppelganger. Just the same as he’s doing. That doesn’t make it right,” Collins said. “Are you sure you know how to use that blade, sir?”

  “Practice makes perfect.” I turned to face her fully. “What’s really on your mind tonight, Collins?”

  “James, I think I know why these parasites have been so interested in talking to you,” she said. “And I do think you’re the key to fighting them.”

  “Huh?” I said. “You too, huh?”

  “Yes. Your immunity isn’t just a tactical advantage. It’s possibly the only thing giving us a chance against their complete infiltration.”

  “Why the hell do you think they have a special place in their cold little hearts for me?”

  “Because you’ve helped them. You’ve talked to them as though they were equals. Maybe they think they can influence you without resorting to attempting control.”

  “Whatever gave you all these ideas? Because of Megan?”

  Cherish nodded. “I watched how you interacted with her. I watched how she responded to you. These parasites—they’re still part human. They’re running a human around, but all the natural instincts, the emotions, the predilections of those humans are also still there. Probably interfering with the parasites as much as they’re interfering with the human.”

  “You got all that from one sultry look from Megan, huh?”

  She nodded slowly. “She was really liking you, even when she was controlled by the parasitic nanites.”

  I laughed. “So, romance? That’s the answer? I’ve got to romance these nasty-ass little computers? That’s going to take a long time as there might be as many as 50,000 of them on the next planet we’re headed to.”

  I put the sword aside, which caused Cherish to relax somewhat. I took a step closer, eyeballing her. She was eyeballing me in return. We were standing close enough now that I could smell her perfume mixed with metallic scents of the ship’s recycled air.

  Cherish had always been attractive in a professional, competent way. In the past, we’d had more than one affair. The stress of these recent events seemed to have added an edge to her usual act that I found rather appealing. What can I say? I’ve always enjoyed the company of ornery women.

  “You know what I think?” I said, reaching up and grazing her cheek with my forefinger.

  She didn’t flinch away.

  “What?” she said.

  “I think you’ve been working too damned hard. When’s the last time you took a night off and just relaxed?”

  I traced my thumb along her jawline. Her breath caught slightly. “James, we shouldn’t.”

  “Why not?” I moved my other hand to her waist. She was standing now, and I pulled her close. “The two of us just got nuked by our own side. Life’s too short—like, really, really short. Maybe only a few hours long, in fact. A man or a woman has to take some time to do what they want, what they feel.”

  She wasn’t fighting me off or even pulling away, but she was feeling a bit stiff in my hands. “I thought you were interested in that Megan person, or perhaps that specialist. What’s her name? Baguette?”