“Alpha, what’s going on?” Private Shiro asked.

  “I don’t know. Get dressed. All of you. Get dressed.”

  They ran past him, joining Washington and Ning as they headed for the armory. He continued in the other direction, still able to hear the demons pounding at the door behind him. Why would they bother? They couldn’t open it.

  He moved into the barracks, glancing in each of the rooms as he passed them by. All of the Guardians were up and out, but he hadn’t seen Johansen or Goth.

  The hatch to the head slid open. A dark, oily shape stood in the frame, blood dripping from its teeth and its claws.

  It hissed at him as he raised the plasma rifle and fired. The bolt caught the trife in the chest, burning a hole straight through. The demon lunged at him despite the wound. He fired again, putting a hole in its brain that dropped it to the ground.

  “Johansen,” Caleb said. He stepped over the trife toward the showers.

  Another demon came around the side of the door and reached for him. Caleb fired point-blank, the smell of cooked flesh raising from the instant kill. He stepped into the bathroom. A third trife came at him from the other side, bowling into him and knocking him off his unsteady legs. He fell into the door to one of the toilet stalls and bounced off, swinging the rifle like a club and catching the trife in the side of the head. Its neck cracked wetly, and it fell to the floor.

  Caleb looked past the toilets to the open shower stall. One of them was still running, still spilling water into a too-large hole in the floor. Johansen was against the wall behind the hole, right next to Goth. They were both dead.

  A trife appeared in the hole, climbing out of it. Caleb didn’t understand. He didn’t have time to understand. He shot the demon, rushing to the scar in the floor and looking down.

  Damn it, why hadn’t he realized? The floor of the shower was like the floor of Metro, a porous surface that allowed the water to pass through to be recycled. It dripped down into a basin which fed out into a drain pipe.

  The pipe looked too small for the creatures, but their bones were light and flexible, and they could squeeze into small spaces whenever they needed to do so. They had come up through it, taking them by surprise. Johansen and Goth hadn’t stood a chance. If any of the other Marines had been in the shower with them, they would have died too.

  Caleb heard motion behind him. He looked back as Shiro entered the room, fully SOSed and ready.

  “Alpha?” Shiro said.

  “We need to seal off the larger drain pipes. Cut and solder them.” It was a perfect job for Pratt if he hadn’t gone insane. Or whatever it was that had happened to him.

  “I thought those things hate water?”

  “I guess they don’t mind that much if it’s the only way they can reach us. Stand guard here while I get Master Sergeant Gold.”

  “Roger that, Alpha.”

  Caleb hurried from the barracks, stopping Privates Flores and Wagner from the Hawks on the way and redirecting them to the CIC with him. The other Marines had nearly all finished assembling there, including the injured Yasuka and the sick Ning.

  He immediately noticed the banging from the door had stopped.

  “They came in from one of the drainage pipes,” Caleb said. “Into the showers. Johansen and Goth are dead.”

  He could feel the sudden tension in the Marines at the news.

  “How did they get through the floor without Johansen or Goth hearing them coming?” Sho asked.

  “Joe and Goth had a thing,” Wagner said. “They were probably preoccupied.”

  “Damn it,” Caleb said. “If someone had told me I would have separated them. This isn’t the time for that kind of distraction.”

  “I don’t know, Alpha,” Wagner replied. “Lost in space, surrounded by killer aliens, locked in a shower together? If you had someone, you might want one last chance too.”

  Caleb wasn’t going to argue. He had bigger problems. “Master Sergeant Gold, we need to close up the pipe. Make it smaller so they can’t fit through. Can you make it happen?”

  “Confirmed, Alpha. I’ll need help.”

  “Wagner, go with him.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The two Marines left the CIC. Caleb went to the primary terminal and checked the comm.

  “Research, come in.”

  “Guardian Alpha, this is Craft.”

  “Taking over for Byrnes?”

  “Just be thankful we’re listening at all, Alpha. I personally don’t appreciate the attitude you’ve taken with Doctor Valentine.”

  “It’s not personal, Craft. I’m trying to keep my people alive.” And failing. Had Pratt been right? Was he doing everything wrong?

  “What do you need from us now?”

  “Nothing. I wanted to warn you. The trife used the drainage for the shower to bypass module security and kill two of my Marines. Regardless of our differences, I don’t want the same thing to happen to you.”

  “Roger, Alpha,” Craft said, suddenly stiff and serious. “Thank you for the warning. If you’ll excuse me.”

  Caleb closed the link, and then looked over the Marines who were left.

  Sho, Washington, Hafizi, Yasuka, Ning, and Flores. Gold, Wagner, and Shiro were out of the room. Ten Marines in all. Out of nearly a thousand who had been stationed with the Deliverance.

  How many trife were still out there?

  And even if they managed to stop the queen somehow, how the hell would they ever know they had gotten them all with enough certainty to let the people in Metro come back out.

  He wasn’t sure they could.

  “Pratt was right about one thing,” he said, glancing at Sho. “We can’t afford to waste any more time. I hope I did the right thing. If I didn’t, I’m sorry. To all of you, I’m sorry.”

  “I think I can speak for all of us when we say we don’t envy the position you’re in, Alpha,” Flores said. He smiled. “Hell, I don’t envy the position I’m in, and I have the easy job. I just have to go where you tell me to go when you tell me to go there and shoot what you tell me to shoot.”

  “Thanks, Flores,” Caleb replied.

  “We all volunteered, Alpha,” Hafizi said. “We could have gone to Metro with Lieutenant Jones. We wanted to be out here. We wanted to fight. We trust you.”

  “We aren’t giving up, Sarge,” Sho said. “Let’s finish the job or die trying.”

  “Finish the job or die trying,” Caleb repeated. He cupped his chin in his hand, rubbing it against the stubble there and thinking. “All right, Guardians. I tried doing this the easy way, but the trife don’t seem to like the easy way. So you know how we’re going to do it?”

  “The hard way, Alpha!” the Marines replied.

  “That’s right. The hard way. Gold and Wagner are busy patching the pipes to keep the trife out. We can’t afford to wait for them. I’m reorganizing the squads based on what we have left. Hawks will merge with Raptors to form one fire team. Vultures stay with me. We have enough plasma rifles for everyone, so everyone will carry one. They can be dangerous in such close quarters, so each team will designate a primary gunner. If your primary gunner is incapacitated or if you have a confident and clear line of fire, take the shot. Just be careful. A bolt doesn’t need to hit your squadmate to burn. If I assign you an MK-12, you don’t touch the grenade launcher unless I give the order. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Alpha!”

  “I need one person from each squad to be in charge of the Dragonflies.”

  “I’ve got it for Raptors,” Flores said quickly.

  “Vultures,” Hafizi said.

  “Good. Okay. According to Valentine, the trife are probably done crowning their new queen, and she’s leading them back toward the engines to build a new nest. She suggested the area where they’re settling is a bad place to get into a firefight, so we’ll need to figure out how to get them to come after us. We’ve been successful getting them to chase on Earth by sending in pairs and leading them back into ambushes. I have a feeling that isn’t going to work as well here. Our experience so far suggests they’ll use the tactic against us, and while we’re trying to bring them in, they’ll be flanking us for an ambush of their own. It seems ridiculous, but it’s almost like they know the Deliverance better than we do.”

  “Scent, Alpha,” Hafizi said.

  “What’s that, Corporal?”

  “They can smell us. Or feel us. Or something. They know there are lots of people in Metro. They knew there were lots of people on the bridge, and in here. Probably in Research too.”

  “Do you think Valentine would say anything if the trife attacked them?” Sho asked. “She probably took some of them prisoner to experiment with.”

  “I don’t know if we should reach that far,” Caleb replied. “You saw the way the scientists defended themselves on the way back to the hopper.”

  “I didn’t see everything, Sarge. The trip out was chaotic, to say the least.”

  “Half of them died.”

  “And half didn’t. A suspicious half.”

  “Valentine thinks we’re boxing shadows. And she may be right. I can’t believe she isn’t on our side. I just can’t. Not against the trife. We have to go forward assuming she’s with us, whatever the truth about her team may or may not be. We need them to help us run the gauntlet. We don’t have a spare man to act as an operator and keep an eye on the sensor grid for us.”

  “You’re going to ask them to help us?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a great idea, Sarge.”

  “I can’t go there. And you shouldn’t either.”

  “Roger.”

  “It isn’t just scent,” Caleb continued. “I know they react to sound and I’m sure they can hear us in the corridors.” He paused, an idea coming to him. It was risky as hell, but it might be worth it. “I think we can use that to our advantage. I have an idea. Actually, I have two ideas.”

  Washington stepped forward, raising his hand to get Caleb’s attention.

  “What is it, Wash?” Caleb asked.

  The big Marine mimicked running with his fingers, using one hand and then both.

  “Running?” Caleb said, frowning.

  Washington nodded and repeated the gesture, and then pointed at Caleb and himself.

  “Us?”

  Thumbs-up. Running motion again.

  “Running?”

  Thumbs-up again. A motion to the back of the neck, like claws.

  “My injury?”

  Nod.

  “It’s getting better. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be well enough to fight.”

  “Me too, Alpha,” Ning said.

  “Me too,” Yasuka said. “I’m good to go.”

  Washington shook his head and repeated the whole sequence. Caleb watched it carefully, stumped for the next two rounds. Then it dawned on him.

  “Shit. I totally forgot.”

  “Forgot what, Sarge?” Sho asked.

  “Before I was hit. Wash and I were chasing somebody. A human.”

  “What?” Flores said. “There’s a civilian running around outside Metro? How the hell did he get out here?”

  “Good question. The trife were chasing him. We killed those trife and then I got sideswiped.”

  “We should find him, right Alpha?” Hafizi said.

  “How? He’s been running around the dead zone since we launched. He might as well be a ghost.” Caleb shook his head. “No. He’s not our priority right now. One life for forty-thousand? It works great in movies. Not so much in real life.”

  “So what’s the plan then, Alpha?” Sho asked.

  “Stop the trife, save the city. What do you think, Guardians?”

  “Yes, Alpha!”

  Chapter 36

  David’s eyes snapped open. His heart pounded, and he pushed himself backward instinctively, slamming into the boxes of MREs. He looked around, confused. Where was he? How had he gotten here?

  He remembered a moment later. He was on a starship. A United States Space Force starship. Espinoza was dead.

  He wasn’t.

  He opened his mouth to take deeper breaths, trying to calm himself. The ship was silent around him, save for an occasional slight vibration along the floor. He had fallen asleep. For how long?

  He stood up, his body sore and stiff from all the running. He was used to being outside with the trife, but he preferred to hide. He couldn’t outrun them anyway. He knew it was a miracle he was still alive.

  Now he had to decide what to do with that life.

  He turned and looked through the boxes, searching for another flavor. The Thanksgiving MRE he’d had earlier had made him feel sick. He found one labeled Chocolate Cake. He tried to remember the last time he had tasted anything baked. His diet for the last two years had consisted of small urban game like rats and squirrels, fortified by whatever he could scavenge from apartments and stores. A lot of canned foods, since they didn’t spoil easily. He had scored a Hostess chocolate something a few months back, but he wasn’t sure that counted.

  It probably counted more than the block of brown nutrition he unwrapped from the packaging. He wrinkled his nose as he took the first bite. It was chalky and not that chocolatey, but it was way better than the Thanksgiving MRE.

  He ate it quickly and then found himself wishing he had some water to wash it all down. There had to be some around here. The ship was supposed to have people on it. He wondered if he dared leave the area. He had been sleeping safely for some time. Obviously the trife weren’t interested in MREs. He definitely understood why.

  He grabbed his revolver from where it had fallen to the floor, holding it as he made his way out of the storage room and into the mess. His eyes went right to the hatch at the front.

  It was still closed.

  He was still alone.

  There was another door on the other side of the room. He crossed to it and pushed it open, entering a small kitchen. It was little more than a sink and some plastic dishes. Plates, cups, trays, forks, and knives. Not that you needed forks and knives to eat the MREs. Maybe they figured the crew would prefer to act at least like they had a real meal. He grabbed a cup and went to the sink, turning it on. He drank quickly, refilling the cup four times. By the time he had finished drinking, he realized he had to pee.

  He looked around. He was sure there were rooms on the ship. Apartments or even just simple bunks. There had to be toilets too. Somewhere. But he didn’t want to rush out into the ship with the trife just to relieve himself. He looked back at the sink. It was at hip level, too high to go into directly.

  He climbed the counter, kneeling beside the sink, his head nearly touching the metal support beams above. He unbuttoned his jeans, pulling the front down with his underwear and making sure his aim was good. He was nervous at first, feeling odd about the situation. He had to relax. Just for a minute. He had been in here for hours and nothing had come after him. He was safe.

  He started to go, the urine making a tinkling sound against the aluminum as it hit the bottom of the sink and went down the drain.

  He finished, zipping up and climbing down from the counter. His basic needs were taken care of. Now he could think about something else.

  He went through the door, back out to the mess. He had just cleared the frame when someone put the end of a gun to his head.

  “Drop the gun,” the man ordered. His voice was gruff. Angry.

  David opened his hand, letting the revolver thunk on the floor.

  “Who the hell are you?” the man said.

  “I’m David,” David replied. “David Nash.” The man didn’t answer right away. David tried to get a look at him from the corner of his eye. A Marine. Someone had found him. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you. I thought I was going to die out here.”

  “You came from Metro?”

  “Metro? No. I’m originally from Detroit. But I was going to school in Atlanta, and--”

  “Shut up,” the Marine snapped.

  David did.

  “How did you wind up on the Deliverance? Why are you out here?”

  “I’m unarmed now. Can you backup a few steps?”

  The Marine shifted, hooking the revolver with his foot and pushing it across the floor, under one of the tables. Only then did he take a few steps back, giving David a little space.

  David turned slowly to face him. He couldn’t see the man’s face through his helmet. The gun he was carrying wasn’t like anything he had seen before. “What kind of gun is that?” he asked. He didn’t see anywhere to put a magazine, and the muzzle was an odd shape.

  “I asked you a question, string bean,” the Marine said. “Two questions actually. Answer them.”

  David’s heart raced. He wanted to feel safe with the Marine. Everyone knew that when it came to humans and trife there were only two sides. Still, there was something about this guy that was making him uneasy.

  “Espinoza,” he said. “He was the leader of our group. We’re scavengers. Well, we were scavengers. He noticed one of the military hoppers fly over once and he got hell-bent on tracking it back to its base. We followed him because he was smart. He knew how to stay alive, and keep other people alive.”

  “I didn’t ask for your damn life story, stringer.”

  “Right. Well, we found your base, but we maybe attracted a nest of trife on our way to it. We managed to stay ahead of them for a while but you know, sometimes they’ll just follow and let you wear yourself out. Sometimes they’ll hurry and get ahead of you and set an ambush. Sometimes they’ll just go full Conan the Barbarian on your ass.”

  “And sometimes they’ll let you lead them to a bigger prize,” the Marine said, clearly unhappy.

  “Um. Yeah. I guess so. I didn’t know about that. We were just trying to get to safety. With you or through you. I guess the trife kind of messed the whole thing up.”

  “What you’re saying is that your people helped the trife get into the hangar and onto the ship?”

  David’s face flushed. He felt hot. If he hadn’t just peed, he might have wet himself. “It wasn’t me. I was just a follower. Espinoza had the idea. He started the fight. I really didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m awful sorry.”