Washington. The man who'd saved Caleb's life more times than he could count. Now his eyes held that telltale glaze, his movements puppet-perfect as he gazed at them from behind the barrier.

  Beside him, General Haeri stood in his crisp uniform, looking almost bored. The same man who'd reluctantly agreed to their plan to attack Shub'Nigu, who'd provided ships and resources despite his doubts. Now reduced to a meat puppet for an Ancient's amusement.

  "We need to get through them," Caleb said, studying the defense. "But I don't want to hurt them. These are our people."

  "We could use the combined targeting theory," Mitchell suggested. "Hit them all with our moieties at once, try to break Iagorth's control."

  "No," Hayden said firmly. "We need to save that for Iagorth himself. If we reveal our hand now, he'll know what we're planning. He might find a way to counter it, or worse, escape before we can target him. We need to get through without killing them, and without showing him what we can do."

  "How?" Queenie asked. "There's at least a hundred of them, and they're in a fortified position. We try to charge that, and they'll cut us down."

  “We all have moieties,” Caleb said. “We can all use them. Think about what you want the moiety to do, feel the power of it and draw it into yourself. We need to tear apart the barricade, keep them too distracted to shoot at us.”

  “You save your strength, pardner,” Hayden said. “Let us take it from here.”

  Caleb reluctantly nodded. He was already running on fumes, and would need everything he had left to deal with Iagorth once they found him.

  “Once they’re distracted, we charge,” Hayden added. “Shoot to disable. I reckon it’ll be impossible not to kill anyone, but let’s minimize the casualties as best we can.”

  “I hate minimizing casualties,” Pik complained. “But when they’re our people, it’s okay.”

  “Here, Sheriff,” Ham said, holding out his rifle. “Take this. You’re a much better shot than I am.”

  Hayden accepted the weapon. “Thank you kindly. Everybody ready?”

  A chorus of soft affirmations followed.

  "On three," Hayden said quietly, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “One."

  He felt the others drawing on their moieties, the air itself thickening with gathered power.

  "Two."

  Down the corridor, Washington shifted slightly behind the barricade, his puppet-perfect posture adjusting as if Iagorth sensed what was coming.

  "Three."

  CHAPTER 39

  They stepped around the corner as one, and Hayden released the moiety's power.

  The barricade exploded.

  Not with fire or force, but with pure telekinetic energy. Deck plates that had been welded together tore apart like paper. Equipment that had been stacked as cover scattered in every direction. A section of bulkhead that had been propped as a shield crumpled inward, folding on itself with a grinding shriek of tortured metal.

  The defenders behind the barricade stumbled backward, their synchronized movements breaking apart as debris rained down around them. A panel caught one in the shoulder, spinning him into his neighbor. Another ducked as a piece of equipment sailed overhead.

  But Washington and Haeri stood firm.

  Their hands rose in unison, and Hayden felt the counter-force slam into his telekinetic assault. The debris that had been flying outward suddenly reversed direction, hurtling back toward them. A jagged piece of deck plating spun past Hayden's head, close enough that he felt the wind of its passage. Another chunk of metal struck the bulkhead beside Mitchell with enough force to leave a dent.

  "Move!" Hayden shouted, already charging forward.

  The corridor became chaos. Every loose object whirled through the air in competing telekinetic currents. Hayden ducked under a spinning chair, pivoted around a section of pipe that whistled past, kept moving forward through the maelstrom.

  A defender raised his rifle. Hayden shot him in the shoulder, the plasma bolt dropping him to the deck. Another tried to track Gant as he bounded off the wall, using the chaos as cover. Hayden put a bolt through his leg, sending him tumbling.

  Pik bellowed somewhere to his left, the sound cutting through the din. The Trover had grabbed a section of the destroyed barricade—a meter-long piece of twisted metal—and was using it as both shield and club, batting aside debris and more gently using it to drop defenders, breaking their legs or knocking the wind out of them on his way through.

  Orin bounded past on Hayden's right. A defender tried to draw a bead on him, but the Jiba-ki twisted in midair, his own moiety sending a wave of force that knocked the man backward into two others.

  They hit the defensive line like a hammer striking glass.

  Hayden drove his shoulder into a defender's midsection, feeling ribs give under the impact. The man went down gasping, and Hayden stepped over him, bringing the rifle butt around to catch another in the jaw. Bone cracked. The defender dropped.

  To his left, Tsi moved through the chaos with lethal grace. She didn't need to shoot—her hands and feet were weapons enough, striking pressure points, breaking joints, leaving a trail of groaning bodies in her wake. The same was true of Queenie right behind her, using her enhanced strength to drop opponents, even as she dodged the swirling debris.

  Through the melee, Hayden caught sight of Caleb engaging Washington.

  The two Marines collided with an impact that shook the deck. Washington's already impressive physicality met Caleb's own augmented physique. They grappled, neither gaining immediate advantage, feet sliding on the deck as they fought for position.

  Washington's face remained expressionless, that puppet-perfect calm even as Caleb drove a knee into his ribs. No grunt of pain, no change in those glazed eyes. Just mechanical precision as his hands found Caleb's throat.

  Caleb broke the grip with a sharp strike to Washington's elbows, creating enough space to drive his forehead into the other Marine's nose. Blood exploded across Washington's face, but still no reaction. Just another attempt to grab, to strike, to kill.

  Hayden wanted to help, but Haeri was already moving toward him.

  The general's movements were different from the other defenders—smoother, more controlled. Iagorth was paying special attention to this puppet, putting more of his consciousness into directing it. Haeri's hand came up, not with a weapon but with pure telekinetic force.

  Hayden felt the invisible grip close around his throat. He relaxed into it, letting it pass through him.

  It was only a distraction. A large piece of metal from the barricade streaked toward him from the side, the impact slamming Hayden backward into the bulkhead. His head cracked against metal, vision sparking.

  Through the spots in his vision, Hayden saw Haeri drawing his sidearm. The movement was almost casual, unhurried. No emotion on that dignified face as he raised the weapon.

  Hayden rolled left as the first shot scorched the bulkhead where his head had been. He came up with the rifle, putting a bolt through Haeri's weapon hand. The sidearm flew away, Haeri's fingers mangled by the plasma's heat.

  Behind Haeri, Caleb had Washington pinned.

  He had gotten position, using his Advocate-augmented advantage to drive Washington to the deck. One arm was locked around Washington's throat, not choking but controlling, while his other hand pressed against the man's temple. Hayden could see the strain on Caleb's face as he reached out with his moiety, pushing through Washington's consciousness, fighting to sever Iagorth's control.

  Washington's struggles grew more frantic, less coordinated. His synchronized perfection breaking down as two different wills fought for control of his nervous system. Then, suddenly, he went limp.

  “Wash?” Caleb's voice carried desperate hope. “Wash, can you hear me?"

  Washington's eyes cleared, the glaze falling away like a veil lifting. "Cal?” His voice came out rough, confused. "What... where..."

  Hayden turned his attention back to Haeri, hope flaring in his chest. If Caleb could free Washington, maybe⁠—

  He reached out with the moiety, feeling for the connection between Iagorth and Haeri. He found it immediately, a thick cord of consciousness running through the general's nervous system. Hayden pushed against it.

  For a moment, he felt it working. The connection wavered, Iagorth's grip loosening. Haeri's movements became less certain, his remaining hand faltering as it reached for a backup weapon.

  Then Haeri moved with sudden, violent purpose.

  He dove for the sidearm on the deck, the one Hayden's shot had knocked away. His fingers closed around it, and in one smooth motion, he raised it to his own temple.

  "No!" Hayden lunged forward, knowing he was too far away, knowing he couldn't⁠—

  The shot was impossibly loud in the confined space.

  Haeri's body toppled sideways, the sidearm clattering from nerveless fingers. Blood spread across the deck in a widening pool, mixing with the debris and chaos of the battle.

  Hayden dropped to his knees beside the general. Haeri's eyes stared at nothing, that dignified face finally showing an expression of surprise, perhaps, or relief.

  "Damn you," Hayden whispered, though he wasn't sure if he meant Iagorth or himself for failing to save the man.

  The battle was winding down around him, as the rest of his group finished off the remaining defenders. Bodies littered the corridor, some unconscious, some groaning in pain, thankfully most still breathing.

  Pik stood over three unconscious defenders. “I have to admit, not killing was more of a challenge.”

  Mitchell was helping Ham to his feet—the pilot had taken a glancing blow from flying debris that had left him dazed but mobile. Tsi moved among the fallen, checking for life signs with professional efficiency. Queenie stood near the entrance to Obado, her stance suggesting she was ready for another wave.

  Movement in Hayden's peripheral vision made him spin, rifle rising. The Asura leader materialized beside him, those unblinking black eyes taking in the carnage. Its massive head tilted as it observed Haeri's body.

  It cost us nearly a hundred servants, but we have found the Devourer.

  Hayden stood slowly, his legs unsteady. "Who? Which one is Iagorth?"

  The consciousness inhabits a female. Her flesh is wrong—white as bone, with substance that is neither blood nor proper fluid running through her veins.

  "Preslan," Hayden said, the name coming out heavy, though he wasn't surprised. Preslan's nanocyte-infused body would be the perfect host for an Ancient—already transformed, already capable of handling power beyond human limits. "Where is she?"

  The Asura leader's long arm extended, one clawed finger pointing through the airlock into Obado's interior.

  Within the vessel. The place of command. She waits there with others.

  "The bridge." Hayden looked down at his state of undress—the black underlay that left him essentially defenseless, no weapons except the rifle with its limited charge. "Can you transport me there?"

  Yes.

  “We’ll need more backup,” Caleb said, approaching with Washington leaning on him for support. The older Marine looked shaky but aware, processing what had happened to him. “What we have is good, but I don’t think it’s enough.”

  “Pozz,” Hayden agreed. “We need more moieties, as many as we can get."

  "There have to be free crew on the other vessels. The CSF ships, maybe some of the Cheni vessels too."

  Hayden turned to the Asura leader. "Can you transport us to those ships? Help us find the uninfected?"

  The Asura leader stood motionless for several seconds before his head shifted slightly in affirmation.

  It can be done.

  Without warning, the Asura leader phase-shifted away, leaving them staring at empty air. Hayden counted three breaths before it returned, but now it wasn't alone.

  Three other Asura leaders materialized around it. They were similar enough to be related but different enough that Hayden could distinguish them—one slightly taller, another with longer limbs, the third with a different angle to its skull structure.

  These will assist, the leader projected. Each can carry your people to the vessels.

  "I'll go," Queenie said immediately, stepping forward. "I can spread moieties, help arm the survivors."

  "Orin will go!" The Jiba-ki exclaimed, his large eyes bright with enthusiasm. "Orin is most beautiful and not ashamed to be naked. It is true."

  Hayden looked between Queenie, Orin, and the three new Asura. "I'll take the third," he said. "We need as many moieties spread as possible, and I can create level threes."

  "Then I'll handle things here," Caleb said, checking his rifle's charge. "Clear the way to the bridge with the others, make sure we have a direct line when it's time."

  "You'll need to shed anything metal," Hayden told Queenie. "The phase-shifting won't work otherwise."

  Queenie was already working the clasps of her armor, her movements quick and efficient. Within moments, she stood in the same black underlay that Hayden wore, her weapons and gear in a pile at her feet.

  Orin looked down at himself. "Orin has no metal. Orin is perfection in his natural state."

  "Clear a path to the bridge," Hayden told Caleb. “When we get back with reinforcements, I want to be able to hit Preslan—hit Iagorth—with everything we've got."

  "We'll be ready," Caleb promised.

  Hayden took the third Asura's hand. Queenie and Orin had already linked with their escorts.

  The Asura leader turned to them. We will search systematically. Each vessel will be cleared, survivors given the consciousness fragments you call moieties. When all are prepared, we return.

  "How will we know when it's time?" Queenie asked. "When to activate the moieties against Iagorth?"

  "Cal will know," Hayden said. "When he's ready, when he has Iagorth in sight, he'll activate his moiety. We'll feel it through our own—they're all connected through the hierarchy. That'll be the signal."

  The Asura raised their free hands in unison, and Hayden felt that shift in reality as they began phasing to the Asura homeworld. The last thing he saw was Caleb raising the rifle in salute before the world twisted and they were gone.

  CHAPTER 40

  Caleb moved through Obado's corridors with what remained of their force, his rifle heavy in his hands. Each step sent fresh spikes of pain through his skull, the aftermath of his mental battle with Iagorth for Washington still pounding behind his eyes. Blood had dried in crusted trails beneath his nose, and his vision occasionally doubled before snapping back into focus.

  Mitchell took point. Tsi flanked him on the right, both of them sweeping their weapons in practiced arcs as they advanced. Behind them, Washington moved with renewed purpose, the confusion from having Iagorth's control severed already fading as his Marine training reasserted itself.

  “The bridge is this way," Washington said, his voice steady now. "Standard approach would be the main corridor, but there's a maintenance shaft that runs parallel."

  "They'll be watching both," Gant replied, bounding ahead to peer around the next corner. His fur immediately bristled. "Lot of company ahead."

  Caleb moved up beside him and immediately pulled back. The corridor ahead was packed with Inahri warriors, at least twenty of them arranged in defensive positions.

  "That's a lot of opposition," Mitchell observed, his voice steady despite the odds.

  Caleb studied the formation. The Inahri had chosen their position well. A straight corridor with no alternate routes, limited cover, and clear fields of fire. They stood in staggered rows, maximizing their ability to pour fire downrange while minimizing the risk of hitting each other.

  “Damn,” Washington said. “Those are Inahri elite. The best warriors Cheni Station has to offer. I know the names of every last one of them. Met their families.” He sighed heavily, knowing what they might need to do to get past them.

  Caleb reached out with his moiety, testing the strength of Iagorth's control. The connections were iron-solid, each Inahri locked into perfect synchronization with the Ancient's will. There would be no breaking these bonds quickly, not without the coordinated assault they were saving for Iagorth himself.

  "We can't get through without casualties," Tsi said. "Too many, too well positioned."

  "We disable as many as we can," Caleb said. "But if it comes down to them or us..."

  "It won't come to that," Nicholas said from behind them. "There has to be another way. The maintenance shaft, maybe.”

  The Inahri answered that hope by opening fire.

  Plasma bolts filled the corridor, the concentrated barrage tearing chunks from the corner they'd been using as cover. Caleb threw himself backward as superheated metal sprayed past.

  "So much for the peaceful approach," Gant muttered, already moving. The small alien shot forward, using his size and speed to his advantage. He bounded off the wall, hit the ceiling, ricocheted at a sharp angle.

  Three Inahri tracked him, their synchronized movements perfect but predictable. Gant twisted in midair, his moiety sending out a pulse of telekinetic force that knocked their aim wide. Plasma bolts scorched past him as he landed among them, claws extending.

  "Covering fire!" Mitchell barked, already moving.

  Caleb came around the corner firing, trying to place his shots to wound rather than kill. A bolt caught an Inahri in the shoulder. Another took one in the leg, dropping him to one knee. But there were so many, and they kept advancing even when wounded.

  Washington moved up beside him, his borrowed rifle steady. "Left side, second row!"

  Caleb shifted his aim, seeing the Inahri Washington had marked raising a heavier weapon. He put a bolt through the warrior's hand before the weapon could fire. The rifle clattered away, but the Inahri simply drew a sidearm with his other hand. Caleb fired again, reluctantly putting a bolt through the Inahri’s skull.

  Gant was a whirlwind among the forward ranks, moving too fast for them to track effectively. He sliced the hamstrings of the warriors and cut deep into their arms, severing tendons they needed to keep their weapons raised. But even he couldn't avoid everything. A plasma bolt grazed his side, singing fur and drawing a hiss of pain. He kept moving, using an Inahri's body as a springboard to leap over their formation.