Except the hangar was still overrun with trife, and they didn’t stop their attack just because the Deliverance was lifting off. If anything they were fighting harder, ever more desperate to kill their sworn enemy. Caleb heard the screams nearby as another Marine was overcome and torn apart by the horde. He aimed and fired, again and again until his pistol was empty. He tossed it aside, pulling his knife and glancing back at his squad.

  “We need to block off the stairwell,” he said, pointing to the right side of the hangar. He could see trife there, moving through the doorway. The demons were pushing further into the Deliverance, gathering where the defenses were weak and breaking through the line.

  Caleb knew it was too little, too late.

  The Deliverance was airborne and headed for space, but they weren’t even close to leaving their problems behind.

  Chapter 23

  “Thrusters are at maximum output, sir,” Captain Rogers announced. “Vector and velocity are within range. We’re at ten thousand meters and climbing steadily. Time to orbit, three minutes forty-seven seconds.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” General Watkins said. “Private Junis, damage report.”

  “Sir, most of the damage to the Deliverance is minor,” Junis said. “There were a few coolant line ruptures and power surges that knocked out all but the emergency lighting in some parts of the ship. Some of the sensors are also offline. We’ve contacted engineering for an update on estimated repair times.”

  “Once we’ve finished with the trife,” Major Jackson said. “Reports from the hangar aren’t good, sir.”

  “Define not good, Major,” Watkins said.

  “ATCS is estimating three hundred sixteen trife and fourteen Marines.”

  “Fourteen?” Watkins said, his face flushing. “My Lord. What else do we have to back them up?”

  “We’ve enlisted the loading crews, General. Sergeant Pratt and his team are in the armory right now. We also have half a dozen sheriffs and a dozen remaining deputies we can call on to help bolster the ranks. They’re all former military.”

  “Negative,” Watkins said. “I’m not sending law enforcement out there. Metro is going to need them, now more than ever. Are the routes into Metro sealed?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Make sure they stay that way. Shut down ID chip access to anyone who isn’t on the bridge except Major Lyle.”

  “Yes, sir,” Private Junis replied.

  “Having the trife on the Deliverance is bad enough. If they get into Metro, it’ll be a damned nightmare.”

  Adam stared at the holotable and the battle playing out in the ship’s hangar directly beneath them. He knew Caleb and the Vultures were part of that fight. They were the only members of his original company that had survived the liftoff. How much longer could they survive down there?

  How much longer could any of them survive?

  He glanced up at the primary display hanging over the bridge. The blue sky of Earth was getting darker as they continued to claw their way through the atmosphere, the massive sled mounted to the bottom of the ship ferrying them ever upward. Once they reached sixty kilometers, the sled would run out of fuel and disconnect, and then the ship’s main thrusters would fire, taking them the rest of the way into space, through orbit and in the general direction of the Proxima system.

  He barely had time to think about reaching a destination in twenty years instead of two hundred. A new thought interrupted that one, and he hurried over to Private Junis’ workstation.

  “Private, you said some of the sensors are offline?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Which ones?”

  She used the control surface in front of her to adjust the map of the Deliverance, shifting to a three-dimensional, isometric view.

  “Failed circuits here, here, and here, sir,” she said, pointing to different sections of the ship. “The main corridor lights are also offline here and here.” She moved her hand across the map. “Sensors include heat, flood, and life, which is a combination of motion and thermographic imaging.”

  “Life sign detectors are out?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “There?” He pointed to a section of the ship.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Adam traced the outage, following the orange marks on the screen across the ship toward the center. Directly to the bridge.

  “General Watkins, we have a problem,” Adam said, getting the general’s attention.

  “What is it, Jones?” Watkins asked.

  “Sensors are out leading to the bridge. The trife can head right up here and we’d never know they’re coming.”

  “Is that right, Private?” Watkins said.

  “Yes, sir,” Junis replied.

  “Seal the bridge. It’s not a problem if they can’t get in.”

  “Sir, the door seals are electromagnetic. Without proper power balancing, we can’t lock down the bridge.”

  “Damn this bucket of bolts,” Watkins said. “Jackson, contact Lyle. We need a security detail near the bridge ASAP.”

  “Sir, what about the hangar?”

  “We don’t have enough Marines left to be everywhere the trife could be,” Watkins said. “We need to pick our battles, and right now one of those battles may be headed up here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Major Jackson lowered his voice to speak through his comm, ordering Sergeant Pratt and his team to redirect their way.

  “Do we have an estimate on the number of trife who got out of the hangar?” Watkins asked.

  “No, sir. They split up once they made it into the stairwell. They could be spreading anywhere on the ship.”

  “Wonderful.” General Watkins rubbed at his forehead with concern. “Captain Rogers, how long before we can activate the automated systems and set this thing to autopilot?”

  “About three minutes once we reach orbit, General,” Rogers replied.

  “Coordinates to Proxima are set?”

  “Yes, sir. I started entering them as soon as they were handed off.”

  “Good work, Captain.”

  General Watkins fell silent, continuing to rub at his forehead while he decided what they should do.

  “Sir,” Major Jackson said. “Sergeant Pratt’s team has encountered resistance near the central lift banks. They’re going to be delayed.”

  “Have them reroute through the port stairwell,” Watkins said. “It’ll take a little longer but we don’t need to defend the lifts, we need to defend the bridge. Junis, any chance we can get engineering here to fix the circuits?”

  “With the trife out there, sir?” Adam said.

  “Good point, Lieutenant.” General Watkins raised his voice. “If you have a sidearm on your person, make it known.”

  Private Delfina put up a hand. “I do, sir.”

  “Me too,” Captain Rogers said.

  That was followed by silence.

  “Only two of you?” Watkins said.

  “We didn’t think we’d need them once we left Earth,” Major Ng said.

  “We shouldn’t have needed them,” General Watkins agreed. “Lieutenant Jones, Major Ng, you were both enlisted before you went to officer training, and you have direct combat experience. Jones, take Captain Rogers’ sidearm. Ng, Private Delfina’s.”

  “Yes, sir,” Adam said. He walked across the bridge toward the pilot station, raising his eyes to the large display again. The blue sky was gone, the world around the forward cameras turning red and blue and white as the Deliverance began to cross into the thermosphere.

  “Ejecting the launch sled,” Captain Rogers announced as Adam rounded her station. She had a vectoring stick in her left hand, her right hand resting on a flat control surface. She tapped the surface to bring up a secondary menu and then tapped a button to disengage the sled.

  There was little indication the sled had detached outside of a slight shudder and a small shift in inertia as the Deliverance lost velocity, the thrusters pushing it upward shutting down and falling away. Captain Rogers kept her hands steady, sending power to the ship’s main thrusters. If they malfunctioned in any way, the Deliverance would fall back to Earth hard and fast.

  “My pistol is strapped to my thigh,” Captain Rogers said, motioning with her head. The pressure of their ascent began to return, and Adam could see the numbers changing on her display, showing the main thrusters successfully taking over the duties of pushing them ever higher

  “Yes, ma’am,” Adam replied, looking down at her leg. The gun was somewhere between it and the seat, meaning he would have to reach under her rear to find it.

  “Don’t be shy, Lieutenant,” Rogers said. “The trife don’t care if you grope my ass or not.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Adam said, slightly embarrassed by his hesitation. His rank was lower than Rogers’ but he was still ten years her senior. He leaned over, reaching under and finding the handle of the sidearm, pulling the weapon from under her backside.

  She shifted in her seat. “That’s actually more comfortable,” she said without taking her eyes from her display. “Time to orbit, forty-eight seconds.”

  Adam carried Rogers' sidearm back toward the entrance to the bridge, joining Major Ng there. He wasn’t particularly nervous about the idea of the trife trying to get into the room. He had served six years as infantry, including a tour during the second Korean War. He knew how to use a gun, and he knew how to stay calm when the fighting started.

  He glanced over a Major Ng. The older man’s weathered face was hard and tight, the pistol resting gently in his left-handed grip. He met Adam’s gaze for a moment, nodding slightly.

  “Orbit in five. Four. Three. Two. One.” Captain Rogers finished the countdown by reducing the power to the thrusters, allowing Earth’s gravity to pull them into position to continue the journey.

  “Initiate the autopilot sequence as soon as possible,” General Watkins said.

  “Yes, sir,” Captain Rogers replied.

  Something hit the door.

  “They’re heeeerrreee,” Major Jackson said, though he had no real proof the banging was from trife.

  They hit the door a second time, and then a third. There was no way the creatures could know the bridge was behind the door, and yet they had made almost a straight line to it from the hangar. Could they sense how many people were inside? If so, it was a damn good thing they were able to lock down the entrances to Metro.

  Adam raised the pistol, aiming it at the door. The trife weren’t smart enough to hit the control panel on purpose, but their constant scraping and banging could potentially activate it by accident. The system’s designers hadn’t accounted for the creatures getting onto the ship.

  His heart was thumping steadily, his muscles looser than he would have expected. The Deliverance had made it into space. That part seemed a bigger challenge to him than the creatures on board. Of course, they were ruining his ability to savor the moment and to be amazed by the view of their planet from beyond its atmosphere. It was his last chance to see Earth and it was his once in a lifetime opportunity to see it from space.

  Screw the xenotrife.

  They continued hitting the door, the banging reverberating through the room in a rhythmic pattern. General Watkins retreated, backing up toward the front of the bridge. Major Jackson stayed in place, continuing to monitor the hangar. A quick glance told Adam the battle was still going poorly.

  Bang! Bang! Bang! The sound of their collisions echoing in the space. Still, the hatch remained sealed – the enemy outside the gates. Adam began to relax, starting to believe the demons wouldn’t get in.

  Except there was something about the way they kept hitting the door that was bothering him. Something he couldn’t quite place. The cadence was so regular. Too regular. It was as if they were trying to create the noise.

  It was as if they were trying to distract the people inside.

  Adam looked around the room, suddenly concerned the trife were smarter than they had given them credit for. His eyes landed on an air vent a few meters above one of the large displays.

  “Does anyone know where that vent goes?” he asked.

  Major Ng looked at him, eyebrows slowly raising as he slowly shook his head.

  “You don’t think?”

  He was cut off when the grate covering the vent exploded from it. A trife pulled itself from the opening, leaping down from its perch toward Private Delfina, the person closest to it.

  Adam aimed and fired, catching the demon in the head. Not before it had gotten its claws on the private, tearing into her neck. She screamed and slumped in her chair.

  Another trife leaped from the vent, followed by another, and another. Ng joined Adam in shooting at them, while General Watkins started angling for the other side of the room.

  Adam turned around, looking up. A symmetrical vent was on that side.

  “General!” he shouted.

  Watkins looked up as that vent cover fell away, hitting him in the face. He collapsed beneath it, shouting as a trife fell from the new opening and landed right on top him. Adam fired his pistol again and again, knocking the creature away from Watkins.

  “Captain, how long to autopilot?” Adam shouted.

  “Two minutes,” she replied.

  They had to hold the bridge for two minutes.

  “Ng, cover the right side. I’ll hold the left.” There was no reply. “Ng!” Adam spun around again. Ng was on the ground, three trife over him. Adam shot them in turn, but it was too late to save the major. “Jackson, grab Ng’s gun. We have to keep the bridge.”

  “Roger,” Jackson said.

  Adam activated his comm. “Sergeant Card, are you still out there?”

  “God only knows how, sir,” Caleb replied.

  “If you can get to the bridge, you need to get here now!” Adam shouted, his voice desperate. “ We’ve got trife on the bridge.”

  “The bridge is under attack? We’re on our way, sir.”

  Adam rushed over to General Watkins. His nose was bloodied, but he was up and alert, using the metal grate to keep a pair of trife away from him.

  He shot one of them point-blank in the head, and punched the other in the face, hard enough to knock it aside. General Watkins swung the grate into it, breaking its jaw and knocking out teeth.

  One of the other trife saw it and jumped on the injured demon, finishing it off. As soon as it did, Adam shot it.

  More screams sounded from the other side of the bridge, as Private Osborne was cut down. Adam saw a pair of trife heading for Captain Rogers. He had to keep them away from her, at least until she could set their course and let the ship’s computer take over.

  He hurried to her side, standing his ground.

  The door to the bridge slid open, letting the rest of the demons in.

  Chapter 24

  “You heard the Lieutenant,” Caleb said through his comm to Sho, Washington, and Hafizi. They were all that was left of the Marines under his command, the rest long dead. “We need to get to the bridge.”

  He checked his HUD, glancing at the tactical grid. Fourteen Marines were still in the hangar, including himself. Fourteen. Out of how many? He shuddered to guess. What should have been their liberation had turned into a damned nightmare.

  “Roger that, Sarge,” Sho said, speaking for herself and Washington. The big man was holding the rear, a knife in each hand, his SOS covered in dark trife blood. He didn’t dare take his eyes off the demons for a second.

  “Sir, what are we going to do?” Corporal Hafizi asked. “We don’t have any guns, and there have to be a hundred trife between here and the bridge.”

  “We’re going to do the best we can,” Caleb replied. “That’s how the Vultures work. We head for the stairwell and we start climbing, step-by-step.”

  “Yes, sir,” Hafizi said, though he didn’t sound too comfortable with the idea.

  They were already fairly close to the stairs, having made their way across the hangar behind one of the loaders to catch a group of trife by surprise. Fortunately, the hangar was nearly clear of the demons, and few enough remained that the ten Marines still fighting could handle it.

  Unfortunately, it was nearly clear because so many of the trife had moved further into the vessel.

  “Sergeant Card, where are you headed?” Major Lyle said, noticing the movement of the Vultures.

  “Sir, direct orders from General Watkins,” Caleb lied. He figured he could get away with the fib since the general was on the bridge, and Lieutenant Jones had called him for help. “The bridge is under attack.”

  “Shit,” Lyle said. “Confirmed. Good hunting, Sergeant.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The Vultures pushed onto the stairwell, running up as quickly as they could. Caleb checked the tactical, noticing Sergeant Pratt’s ATCS was active near the central lifts. A blob of red surrounded him and the two remaining members of his team.

  “Sergeant,” he said. “What’s your situation?”

  “Pinned down,” Pratt replied. “The lift we fought our way to is malfunctioning, and we’re stuck inside. We’re supposed to be on the bridge, damn it.”

  “We’re on our way,” Caleb said. “We get you loose. You share your guns.”

  Pratt laughed. “Roger that.”

  They scaled three flights of steps, running right into the backside of a smaller group of trife. Caleb and Sho sliced into them with their knives, stabbing them as they tried to turn to fight and pushing the first few back for Washington and Hafizi to finish off. The quartet punched through the demons in no time, breaking out of the stairwell on deck twenty-seven.

  “Sixteen trife in three corridors,” Caleb said, taking in the situation. “Marking connecting passages here and here. Washington, you head down Alpha, Sho and Hafizi take Beta. I’m heading straight in.”

  “Straight in?” Sho said. “Sarge, that’s too dangerous.”

  “Not if you get there at the same time I do. Run faster.”

  “You got it.”

  They reached the intersection, and the Vultures split up. Caleb watched them all on his HUD, timing their circuitous route with his arrival in the central hub, where a larger group of trife currently covered the lift banks. Sergeant Pratt and his team could probably have gotten clear of the creatures if they were aggressive, but he was playing it safe to keep the rest of his people alive. Caleb understood the motivation, even if he didn’t agree with the decision.