“It was my idea,” Pratt said. “I’ve got full tactical and visual. We’re looking clean so far. The trife haven’t even noticed our squad is there.”

  Caleb’s eyes drifted back to the sensor grid. Only one group of marks was moving. The Hawks. The other was static, as though the trife were asleep. He wished the armor’s HUD could be transmitted to the terminal so he could see what Pratt saw. He was tempted to head to the armory to grab an SOS of his own, but he didn’t want to miss the excitement or the hopeful lack of it.

  “What the hell are they doing?” Pratt said.

  “What do you see, Sergeant?” Caleb asked.

  “I’m not sure. Looks like the things are all bundled up together, rubbing against one another and covered in some kind of sticky white crap.”

  “Like semen?” Sho asked.

  “Ugh. I wasn’t thinking of it that way until you said it, but yeah, sort of. They’re just slip-sliding away if you know what I mean, probably thirty of them all rubbing each other up. It’s disgusting is what it is.”

  “Master Sergeant Gold, can you switch the comm over to Research? Let’s ask Doctor Valentine what they’re doing.”

  “One second, Alpha,” Gold said. “Done.”

  “Doctor Valentine,” Caleb said.

  “Guardian Alpha Card,” Doctor Byrnes replied instead. “What can I do for you?”

  “I was hoping to get a word with Riley,” Caleb said.

  “I’m sorry, Alpha, she’s not available right now. She’s tied up with her research.”

  “It’s been six hours.”

  “She’s very dedicated, as I’m sure you already know. I heard you were injured. How are you feeling?”

  “Well enough,” Caleb said. “We’ve got a team near the remaining trife in the bow of the Deliverance.”

  “I have them on sensors,” Byrnes said.

  “They’ve got the trife on visual. They look like they’re all pressed together, and spreading some kind of ichor across one another.”

  “We call it serumen. They use it to transfer new genetic information. It sounds like they’re queening. How much have they secreted?”

  “A lot,” Pratt replied. “They’re all coated in it.”

  “They’ve almost completed the process,” Byrnes said, his ton concerned. “You need to stop it, Alpha. Right now.”

  “You heard him, Sergeant,” Caleb said.

  “Hawk Three, move into position and set your weapon to stream,” Pratt said. “Burn those bugs to ash.”

  Caleb watched the sensor display. Every mark ahead of the Hawks vanished within a few seconds.

  “The quarterback is toast,” Pratt said, smiling. “Grid is clear. ATCS is clear. That P-50 is something else.”

  “Nice work,” Caleb said. “Do me a favor and keep the Dragonflies running their scans, just in case, and have the Hawks do a sweep of the area.”

  “The zone is clear,” Pratt snapped. “You can see it yourself.”

  “I can, but I don’t want to take any chances. Maybe it’s just me, but didn’t that seem a little too easy?”

  “You were in sickbay when we hit the first group,” Master Sergeant Gold said. “They went down the same way. The trife don’t handle the plasma well. I bet if we had these things when the war started we wouldn’t even need to be out here now.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. The plasma stream may work well within the confines of the ship, but most of Earth isn’t so easily contained. Just do a quick sweep of the area.”

  “Confirmed, Alpha,” Pratt grumbled. “Hawk One, Guardian Alpha requests a sweep on the area for wayward trife. Keep the Dragonflies active in the vents and service passages. Huh? Yeah, he’s fine. Well enough to question our success. I’ll tell him you said that.” Pratt turned to Caleb. “Johansen said she’s glad you’re feeling better, and she’s happy to do an extra sweep for you. You want to take bets that she doesn’t find anything?”

  “I heard we have a map of the vents and service tunnels from Research?” Caleb said in response. He still didn’t like Pratt’s tone. Something was going on with the Sergeant.

  “That’s right.”

  “Is it complete?”

  “Not one hundred percent. The problem is the schematics have changed a bit since the original prints were made. They built the Deliverance so fast, they had to make some changes on the fly, and they aren’t reflected.”

  “But you’re confident the Hawks aren’t going to find anything?”

  “As confident as you are that they will.”

  Caleb smiled. “It’s a bet. Loser gets a service tattoo. Winner gives it to him.”

  Pratt’s laugh was humorless. “Oh, I’m going to love it when you lose.”

  “Wait a second,” Sho said. “This is hardly fair. Alpha is on meds.”

  “He’s well enough to tell the Hawks what to do.”

  “Sergeant Pratt,” Master Sergeant Gold said. “Alpha. We have… something happening. I’m not sure what to make of it.”

  Caleb and Pratt both turned to the grid. The marks at the stern were disappearing one at a time.

  “Check the map Research provided,” Caleb said. “Are there any passages in that area?”

  “Hang on,” Gold said.

  “Pratt, call the Hawks back.”

  “I guess I win the bet.”

  “No. The bet is canceled. I like what those trife are doing less than my gut feeling about the bow.”

  “I’m calling it a win, Alpha. I’ll let you slide on the tattoo.”

  “Whatever makes you happy. Joke time is over. Sho, help me sit. Washington, can you get me an SOS?”

  Washington flashed his thumb and left the CIC. Sho helped Caleb over to the central command station behind the primary terminal. Pratt moved aside to let him sit.

  “Hawk One, belay the previous order and return to base,” Pratt said. “Double time it, we’ve got vanishing trife moving from the stern.” He looked at Caleb. “They’re on their way.”

  “What do you think the trife are doing, Sarge?” Sho asked.

  Caleb was still watching the grid. They were moving into an unmonitored passage, that much was clear. Where did it lead? Did the demons even know? They were still vanishing one-by-one, nearly half the larger group already off the map.

  “Byrnes, are you there?” Caleb said.

  “I’m here, Alpha,” Doctor Byrnes replied. “And yes, I see what you see. And no, I don’t know the purpose either. You’re the Marine.”

  “I was going to ask you if you think the larger group might have finished queening yet.”

  “Oh. It’s entirely possible, Alpha. You can’t put a timestamp on something like that.”

  “Damn,” Pratt said. “We should have gone after the larger group first.”

  “Without knowing how they would react or what their potential is in a confined space like this?” Caleb said. “This way was safer.”

  “Then we shouldn’t have played it safe.”

  Caleb’s eyes narrowed, and he pushed himself to his feet. He could feel his legs burning as he did, but he refused to stumble or look weak. “I don’t like your attitude Sergeant,” he hissed. “You’re barking back at every damn thing I say.”

  Pratt’s eyebrows sank, and he faced Caleb, his stance aggressive. “My problem is that we burned too much time bouncing off the damn bugs and not enough time exterminating them. I just took out two of the three groups of trife in six hours. You spent the first two running so-called recons against them, lost a Marine, and got another one hurt, not to mention your own injury. The P-50s can wipe the bastards out like this.” He snapped his fingers. “We should load up the troops and rush their position. We can take out their queen before she can start making babies. If you were still in sickbay where you belong, that’s exactly what I would do.”

  Caleb’s instinct was to roar back. He held the anger in, forcing himself to stay even. He didn’t know where any of this was coming from. He and Pratt had been in the same battalion for over a year, and Sean had always been collected.

  “Maybe you haven’t spent enough time in the field, Sergeant,” Caleb said. “The trife seem stupid on the surface, but they aren’t. They adapt to their environment, which means the rules are different here. If you rushed them, you would get everyone who went out there with you killed.”

  “Like you got Habib killed?” Pratt said.

  Caleb couldn’t do it. He lunged at Pratt, who stepped back and out of the way, moving aside to let Caleb tumble to the ground, his legs unable to keep him upright.

  “You son of a bitch,” Caleb said. “You’re way out of line.”

  “I should be Alpha here, Card. Not you. I have seniority. I was in the service when you were still in diapers.”

  “When was the last time you were in the field against the trife? Before today, when was the last time you saw combat?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Pratt said. “I know how to lead men. I’m doing a better job than you are.”

  “You’re doing a bang up job earning our respect,” Sho said, coming to Caleb’s defense.

  “I think everybody here knows where you stand, Yen. You’re like Cal’s little love-sick puppy.”

  Washington picked the right time to return to the room. He had a SOS cradled in his arms, along with three of the P-50 rifles. He noticed Caleb on the floor, and he dropped the whole bundle, hurrying over to him.

  “Washington,” Caleb said. “Take Pratt to his rack. I think he’s getting a little cracked.”

  “Cracked?” Pratt growled. “I’ll show you cracked.”

  He started for the door toward the barracks, shouldering past Sho and Washington. He paused when he reached the rifles Washington had dropped, bending over and grabbing one.

  “Pratt, what the hell are you doing?” Master Sergeant Gold said.

  Pratt aimed the rifle at them, switching the control to stream. “I could burn all of you to a pile of goo,” he said. “You want to hide in here, take it slow, let them start multiplying, you be my guest. I’m going to kill those bastards. Every last one of them.”

  He stormed toward the exit. The hatch slid open at the same time he reached it, the Hawks returning from the bow. “Don’t try to stop me,” he shouted, pointing his rifle at them. Once he was past, he took off down the corridor at a run.

  “What the hell was that?” Sho said.

  “I don’t know,” Caleb replied. “But that wasn’t the Sean Pratt I’ve known for the last year.” He lowered his voice so only Sho and Washington would hear him. “Something is going on, and I think it has to do with Valentine. Sho, find Private Ning and bring him to the CIC.”

  “Roger that, Sarge,” she replied, heading away.

  Washington extended his hand, and Caleb took it, pulling himself to his feet. “Help me with the SOS, will you? It’ll help me stay on my feet.” Washington nodded. “Byrnes, are you still there?”

  “I’m still here, Alpha.”

  “I want to talk to Doctor Valentine. Now.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Alpha. She’s very--”

  “Now!” Caleb snapped. “Or you’ll find a few very angry Marines breaking through the door into your module.”

  “You have no authority to – ”

  “I don’t need authority, I’ve got all the guns. And I want some damn answers.”

  “Let’s not overreact, Alpha.”

  “Now!” Caleb repeated.

  “Standby,” Byrnes said.

  Caleb glanced at Washington. “I have no clue what the hell is happening on this ship,” he said.

  Washington nodded emphatically as if to say me neither.

  Chapter 34

  “What can I help you with, Alpha?” Doctor Valentine said sharply. She sounded pissed off and tired.

  Caleb didn’t care. She had left him waiting for nearly five minutes, wasting time to show him how he couldn’t just tell her what to do, even when there was at least one life at stake. Just because Pratt had lost his mind, it didn’t mean Caleb didn’t want to get him back to safety.

  He had spent the time getting loaded into a fresh SOS with a lot of help from Washington. Sho had returned with Ning in tow, after having found the Private in his rack, sweating profusely.

  “What the hell did you do to my Marines?” Caleb asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit. I loaned you two men to help you fortify the Research module. One of them is sick, and the other ran off to take on the trife all by himself.”

  Caleb looked at the sensor grid. Master Sergeant Gold had highlighted Pratt on it, leaving him as an orange spot headed toward the rear of the ship. He was taking a haggard path, cutting down random corridors and doubling back over areas he had already covered. It wasn’t even close to normal.

  “Does the word coincidence mean anything to you?” Valentine said.

  “Does the word bullshit mean anything to you? I’m done with the secrets, Riley. Your team and my team are the only humans out here, and we should be working together, but if I have to bring my squad down to beat the truth out of you, I’m almost ready to do that.”

  “How macho,” Valentine said. “It won’t get you very far. We aren’t defenseless down here.”

  “That’s kind of my point. Who the hell are you, Doctor Valentine?”

  “I’m a scientist, Caleb. A genetic researcher. Anything else you think I might be is coming from your imagination. From your mistrust. Have I given you a reason not to trust me?”

  “Two Marines went to help you with the module. Both of those Marines are exhibiting individual signs of illness, yet you claim you had nothing to do with it. That’s one reason why I don’t trust you. Whatever the thing you had wrapped up under the tarp, that’s another. The way you conveniently got off the bridge before the trife attacked, that’s a potential third. And the fact that your genetics team contains a network specialist and an electrical engineer? Strike four.”

  Doctor Valentine laughed, long and hard enough Caleb knew she was mocking him. “Please, Alpha. A combination of coincidences and easily explained circumstance. You’re boxing shadows. Haven’t you heard? When humans are fighting trife, there are only two sides. Us and them.”

  “Then why did Pratt storm out of the module to chase the trife alone?”

  “Marines break,” Valentine replied. “I’m sure you’ve seen it before.”

  He had. He was sure all of the Guardians had. But that wasn’t what happened to Pratt, no matter how she tried to spin it. Sean had been a Marine for nearly fifteen years. If two years of fighting the trife on Earth hadn’t broken him, this situation wasn’t going to.

  He realized Valentine wasn’t going to give him anything, no matter how hard he pushed. If he wanted it, he was going to have to take it. Despite his threats, he didn’t have the time or Marines to do that.

  “And what about Ning? I’ve got him here with me, but I’m close to sending him to sickbay. He’s burning up.”

  “He could have gotten sick before we ever left Earth. It could be as simple as the flu. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. How is your head, by the way? I heard you had a close call.”

  “It’s fine,” Caleb said. “Since I have you direct on the comm, maybe you can tell me what you think the xenotrife in the stern are doing. Ninety percent of them moved somewhere off the grid.”

  “Byrnes informed me,” she said. “I honestly don’t know.”

  “Give me your best guess, Doctor. I know you have experience with the trife.”

  “Not in this environment, I don’t. Best guess? They finished the queening and went to build a nest.”

  “Off the grid?”

  “They’re going to put it as close to the thrusters as they can. The energy exchange between the reactors and the ionic generators provide an excellent nutrient source for them. It also acts as a shield against most electronic communications, including the sensors.”

  “You mean we’re blind down there.”

  “Worse than blind. If you aren’t careful with your weapon fire, you’re liable to blow the entire ship into a billion tiny little pieces.”

  Caleb closed his eyes. He should have guessed.

  “So we need to try to draw them out?”

  “That would be best.”

  “No rest for the wicked,” Sho said.

  “Confirmed,” Caleb replied. “Well, don’t let me interrupt your busy schedule any more than I already – ”

  A loud bang drowned out the rest of the statement. Caleb’s head whipped toward the hatch leading from the corridor into the Marine module. A second bang followed, and then a third. His eyes shifted to the grid. Dozens of trife were materializing like ghosts right outside the door.

  What the hell?

  He heard a crash, followed by a scream.

  From inside the module.

  Chapter 35

  “Gold, sound the alert,” Caleb said, grabbing his plasma rifle and getting to his feet. His knees were weak, but the assistive musculature of the SOS kept him from falling, helping him stay upright and walk from the primary station toward the source of the scream.

  The alert tone shrilled an instant later, a wail that echoed off the walls and would wake any of the Marines who were still at rest. The Hawks had headed for the shower and a nap after their mission. Were they still in the head?

  “Wait here, Sarge,” Sho said. “I’ll check it out.”

  “No,” Caleb said. “You aren’t armored. Cover the door. They shouldn’t be able to get through, but then they shouldn’t be in here either. Washington, take Ning and get to the armory. When you’re done, replace Sho so she can get her gear.”

  Washington acknowledged the order.

  “Are you sure you can walk?” Sho asked.

  “I don’t have a choice. I’ll be fine.”

  “Holler if you need us, Sarge.”

  “Will do.”

  Caleb moved from the CIC, out into the short corridor. He heard another scream. It was definitely coming from the barracks. He increased his pace, breaking into an unsteady run as other Marines moved into view, headed for the armory.