"Push through!" Caleb ordered.

  Mitchell and Tsi worked with practiced efficiency, their shots precise and disabling when possible. Nicholas stayed low, using his smaller profile to avoid the worst of the return fire.

  An Inahri warrior rushed Caleb's position, moving with enhanced speed. Caleb tried to track him but the warrior was already too close. They collided, the impact driving Caleb back against the bulkhead. The Inahri's hand found Caleb's rifle, trying to wrench it away.

  Caleb let him have it, instead driving his knee up into the warrior's midsection. The armor absorbed most of the impact, but it created enough space for Caleb to grab the Inahri's helmet and wrench it off, before shoving the warrior back into the bulkhead and hitting him in the temple with the headgear.

  The Inahri dropped, unconscious but breathing.

  A plasma bolt seared past Caleb's head, close enough to blister the skin on his cheek. He dropped and rolled, coming up behind a structural support. The Inahri were pressing harder now, coordinating their advance to minimize cover opportunities.

  Through the chaos of weapons fire and smoke, Caleb caught sight of Admiral Shri advancing with other Inahri warriors. The admiral's rifle swept toward Caleb's position, forcing him to duck back. When he looked again, Shri was closer.

  Too close.

  The admiral rushed Caleb's cover with three other warriors. Caleb got one with a shot to the leg, but Shri was already on him. They collided hard, Caleb's rifle trapped between them. Shri's enhanced strength drove Caleb back against the bulkhead, the admiral's face inches from his own.

  "Admiral!" Caleb grunted, trying to break the hold. "Fight him!"

  For just a moment, something flickered in Shri's eyes. Recognition, perhaps, or horror at what his body was doing. His grip loosened fractionally.

  Then Iagorth's control reasserted itself, and Shri's knee drove into Caleb's ribs. Caleb doubled over, and Shri's hand went to his sidearm. But instead of pointing it at Caleb, the admiral pressed it to his own temple.

  "No!" Caleb lunged for the weapon, his hand closing around Shri's wrist.

  They struggled for control, Caleb trying desperately to pull the gun away while Iagorth fought to complete the execution.

  Caleb pushed with his moiety, trying to sever Iagorth's control, but the Ancient's grip was too strong. Shri's finger found the trigger.

  The shot was deafening at such close range. Blood sprayed across Caleb's face as Admiral Shri crumpled, his body sliding down between them. Caleb stood frozen for a moment, the admiral's blood warm on his skin, before another plasma bolt forced him back into motion.

  They fought through the corridor meter by bloody meter. More Inahri fell, some unconscious, others not so fortunate. Gant took another graze across his shoulder. All of them had plasma burns on their cheeks and armor. But they pushed forward, driven by determination and fury in equal measure.

  The bridge doors finally came into view at the end of the corridor. The remaining Inahri defenders had pulled back to form a final line, nearly thirty warriors in a tight formation.

  "One more push," Caleb said, tasting blood where he'd bitten his cheek during a close quarters exchange.

  They charged together, no longer trying to minimize casualties. The Inahri met them with disciplined fire, but Caleb's team had momentum now.

  Gant reached the defenders first, tearing through them with violent abandon, all thought of minimizing casualties forgotten in their exhaustion. Pik charged in recklessly, taking additional burns to his arms and chest, ignoring every hint of damage. Caleb joined Washington and Mitchell laying covering fire, precise shots dropping Inahri one by one until only their team remained standing in the corridor.

  Bodies littered the corridor around them. Too many bodies. But at least they'd reached the bridge.

  “I hope the Sheriff and the others get back soon,” Gant said, his fur caked with blood.

  “Me too,” Nicholas agreed. “We’re too exposed like this. Especially if Iagorth is just on the other side of that door.”

  As if in response, the massive doors began to cycle open, the heavy mechanisms grinding as they pulled apart. The bridge stretched beyond, all clean lines and glowing displays. The command staff stood at their stations, turning to face the doors in perfect unison.

  Preslan stood at the center, her bald head gleaming under the bridge lights. The white nanocyte gel visible beneath her skin pulsed with unnatural rhythm. Joseph flanked her on the left, his augmented frame perfectly still. And on the right, Natalia.

  "Welcome," they said in unison, their voices creating that disturbing chorus. "Please, come in."

  Caleb took a step forward, then stopped. Something was wrong. The air itself felt thick, charged with gathering power.

  "Get back!" he shouted, but it was already too late.

  The telekinetic wave that erupted from the bridge wasn't like anything they'd faced before. This wasn't the unfocused push of a newly awakened moiety or even the controlled force of a trained wielder. This was Iagorth himself, channeling his power through a perfect host.

  Caleb tried to relax into it, to let it pass through him as Hayden had taught. But this wasn't water flowing past a net. This was a tsunami hitting a seawall. The technique reduced the impact, kept him from being pulverized, but it couldn't stop the raw force.

  He flew backward, his body leaving the deck entirely. The bulkhead rushed up to meet him, and he hit hard enough to drive all the air from his lungs. Stars exploded across his vision as he slid down to the deck, gasping.

  Around him, the others had suffered similar fates. Only Gant had managed to weather it better, his claws dug deep into the deck plating. Even so, the small alien was pressed flat, fighting against the continuing pressure.

  Pik pushed himself up from where he'd been thrown, his massive frame shaking with rage. "That's enough!"

  The Trover raised his rifle, sending a stream of plasma bolts toward the bridge. Toward Preslan. Toward Iagorth.

  The bolts stopped in midair.

  They hung there for a moment, at least a dozen glowing projectiles suspended in space. Then, with casual cruelty, they reversed direction.

  Pik had just enough time for his eyes to widen before his own shots hit him. The plasma bolts struck across his chest and arms, each impact driving him back. His armor held for the first three hits, then failed catastrophically. The remaining bolts burned through, and Pik crashed to the deck with enough force to buckle the plating.

  He didn't get up.

  "Pik!" Gant's scream was primal, pure rage given voice. The small alien launched himself toward the bridge, claws fully extended, moving faster than Caleb had ever seen him move.

  Iagorth caught him without effort.

  Gant hung suspended in midair, his limbs spread wide, trembling as he fought against the invisible grip. Through Preslan's mouth, Iagorth laughed.

  "Such fury from such a small creature," the Ancient said, walking Preslan's body forward. Joseph and Natalia moved with her, maintaining their flanking positions. "Your love for your companions is touching. Futile, but touching."

  Gant snarled something in his native language that was surely profane.

  "Now, now," Iagorth continued, manipulating Preslan's features into a mockery of disappointment. "Such language. Though I suppose I should expect nothing less from primitives."

  With a casual gesture, Iagorth sent Gant flying into the bulkhead. The impact was brutal but not fatal, and Gant crumpled to the deck, dazed but conscious.

  Preslan's body turned toward Caleb, those nanocyte-filled eyes focusing on him with terrible intensity.

  "Captain Caleb Card," Iagorth said, and now the voice carried genuine interest. "The Marine who stole my moiety in the Spiral. Did you think I would forget? Did you think there would be no consequences?"

  Caleb pushed himself up, his body screaming in protest. "I think you talk too much."

  "Bravado. How predictably human." Preslan stepped closer, Joseph and Natalia matching her movement. "You took something from me, Captain. Something that had spread across an entire galaxy, accumulating power for millennia. And you turned it against me."

  Caleb felt the pressure building against his consciousness. Not physical this time, but mental. The moiety within him suddenly burned like molten metal, and he realized what was happening.

  Iagorth was trying to reclaim it.

  The assault was immediate and overwhelming. Where Caleb's attempts to sever Iagorth's control over others had been like using a scalpel, this was like being hit with a sledgehammer. The Ancient's consciousness crashed against Caleb's mental defenses with crushing force.

  Caleb fought back, pouring everything he had into maintaining control. Blood ran from his nose again, thicker this time. His vision began to tunnel as the pressure increased.

  Ishek!

  I'm trying, the Advocate responded, and Caleb could feel his symbiote's strain. But this is Iagorth himself, not just a fragment. His power is beyond what we can match.

  Then we need more power. Boost me.

  Caleb, if I push you any harder, your nervous system will burn out. You'll die. We'll both die.

  Caleb's knees buckled as Iagorth increased the pressure. He could feel the Ancient's amusement, his confidence. Around him, his teammates were struggling to rise, trying to help, but Iagorth's telekinetic hold kept them pinned.

  If you don't boost me, everyone dies anyway, Caleb replied through gritted teeth. Do it!

  This will kill us, Ishek warned one final time.

  Then we die fighting. Do it now!

  The surge of power that flooded through Caleb was indescribable. Every nerve ending fired at once. His muscles locked in spasm. Blood vessels burst in his eyes, turning his vision red. But his mental defenses solidified, pushing back against Iagorth's assault.

  The Ancient's surprise was palpable. Preslan's body actually took a step back.

  "Impossible," Iagorth said through her lips. "You're just a human. Enhanced, yes, but still just a primitive."

  Caleb couldn't speak. All his focus was on maintaining the defense, on keeping Iagorth from claiming the moiety. But he could feel his body failing. His heart was beating too fast, too hard. His temperature was spiking to dangerous levels. Ishek was right. This was killing them.

  The seconds stretched into eternity. Each heartbeat was agony. Each breath came harder than the last. Iagorth pressed harder, sensing weakness.

  "You're dying," the Ancient observed with clinical interest. "Your symbiote is burning through your cellular structure to maintain this defense. Fascinating. I didn't think your species capable of such sacrifice."

  Caleb's vision was going dark at the edges. He could feel Ishek's consciousness fragmenting, the Advocate pushing beyond all limits to keep them both functional.

  I'm sorry, Ishek projected, the thought weak and fading. I can't maintain this.

  Just as Caleb felt his defenses about to shatter, the universe exploded.

  The impact wasn't like anything Caleb had experienced before. One moment they were locked in mental combat, the next a sound like multiple colliding freight trains tore through Obado. Metal screamed as something punched the enormous Axon ship with the force of a cosmic hammer. The deck beneath them didn't just shake, it lurched sideways with such violence that everyone went flying.

  Caleb's body left the deck entirely, the sudden acceleration sending him tumbling through the air. He hit the bulkhead hard, his shoulder taking the impact, sending fresh spikes of agony through his already burning nervous system. Around him, bodies flew like ragdolls. Mitchell crashed into a console with a sickening crunch. Washington bounced off the overhead before hitting the deck. Gant's claws scraped deep furrows in the metal as he tried to arrest his flight.

  The ship was spinning. Caleb could feel it in his inner ear, that sickening sensation of rotation even though the inertial dampeners were trying to compensate. The deck appeared stable, but his body knew they were tumbling through space, torn free from Keesha Station's docking clamps by the tremendous impact.

  Then the air changed.

  One second it was the recycled atmosphere of a warship, the next it was a hurricane trying to escape into the void. The breach had to be gigantic, and the corridor became a wind tunnel. Loose equipment, pieces of armor, even bodies of the fallen Inahri were pulled toward the vacuum. Caleb's fingers found a purchase just as the pull threatened to tear him away. His joints screamed as the decompression tried to claim him.

  Nicholas wasn't so fortunate. The smaller man went flying past, his mouth open in a scream Caleb couldn't hear over the roar of escaping atmosphere. Mitchell's hand shot out, catching Nicholas by the ankle at the last second, both men now horizontal in the hurricane force winds.

  Papers, debris, and equipment flew past like missiles. A datapad struck Tsi in the temple, opening a gash that immediately began bleeding. One of the fallen Inahri's rifles went spinning by, its edge catching Washington across the back and tearing through his uniform.

  Through the chaos, Caleb caught glimpses of the bridge. Iagorth's puppets had been thrown into disarray as well. Joseph had been slammed into a bulkhead, his augmented frame embedded in the metal. Preslan hung in the air for a moment before crashing into the command throne. Even Natalia, for all of Iagorth's power flowing through her, was struggling to maintain any kind of position as the decompression tried to pull her toward the breach.

  The ship shuddered again, and Caleb heard the distinctive whine of emergency thrusters firing. The stabilization system was trying to arrest their spin, fighting against the momentum imparted by what must have been a catastrophic collision. The inertial dampeners groaned audibly, pushed beyond their design limits as they tried to keep the crew from being pulped against the bulkheads.

  A support strut tore free from the ceiling and went spinning past Caleb's head, missing him by centimeters. The metal beam punched through another bulkhead like tissue paper, creating a secondary whistle of escaping air before internal pressure doors began slamming shut throughout the ship.

  Gant had managed to dig all four sets of claws into the deck plating, his small body pressed flat against the metal as the decompression tried to peel him away. His fur whipped wildly in the artificial wind, and Caleb could see every muscle straining to hold on.

  The emergency thrusters fired again, a deeper rumble that Caleb felt through the deck plating. The sensation of spinning was fading as the ship's automated systems fought to bring them back to a stable position. But the decompression was still trying to tear them apart, the breach too massive for anything but a full emergency seal.

  Then, finally, mercifully, the emergency seals engaged.

  Massive bulkheads slammed shut with a resonance Caleb felt in his bones. The hurricane wind cut off instantly, leaving them in sudden, shocking stillness. Emergency force fields kicked in a second later, shimmering barriers of energy sealing the smaller breaches. The atmosphere stabilized, though thinner than before. Every breath came a little harder, but at least there was air to breathe.

  Caleb dropped to the deck, his legs barely able to support him. The inertial dampeners had fully compensated now, the sickening sensation of spinning replaced by artificial stability. But he could still hear the thrusters firing, still feel the subtle vibrations as Obado's emergency systems fought to bring them to a complete stop.

  Red emergency lighting bathed everything in hellish tones. Smoke drifted from damaged conduits. Sparks cascaded from severed power lines. The ship was hurt, badly. Whatever had hit them had caused catastrophic damage.

  Through the smoke and red lighting, through his fading vision and the blood running from his eyes, Caleb saw three figures materialize in the corridor. The Asura stood there for just a moment, their phase-shifting abilities having let them ignore the chaos entirely.

  The Asura deposited their passengers and immediately phase-shifted away.

  Hayden stood there in his black underlay, barefoot and weaponless but steady on the damaged deck. Queenie flanked him on one side, similarly underdressed but ready for battle. Orin stood on the other side, his multiple limbs giving him a stable stance despite the tilted deck plates.

  "What just happened?" Caleb gasped, his voice barely a whisper. Blood was still running from his nose, his eyes, even his ears now.

  "We crashed a Specter into Obado," Hayden replied, his tone matter-of-fact as if they weren't standing in a dying ship. "Figured you could use the distraction. Desperate times.”

  Behind him, through the bridge doors, Caleb could see Iagorth's puppets recovering. The Ancient's control was reasserting itself even through the chaos. Preslan was pulling herself up from where she'd fallen, Joseph extracting himself from the bulkhead, and Natalia regaining her footing.

  Relief flooded through Caleb. They'd made it. The reinforcements were here.

  "Cal, Orin, Queenie, Gant," Hayden continued, his eyes fixed on the bridge where Iagorth's puppets were recovering from the impact. "Focus everything on Iagorth. Don't hold back."

  Hayden started forward, his bare feet silent on the deck. But before he could take more than two steps, a voice stopped him cold.

  "Hayden."

  Natalia had stepped forward from the others.

  "My love," she continued. "Please. He says if you don't surrender, he'll make me kill myself. Just like the others. Please don't let him do this to me."

  Caleb saw Hayden freeze, his entire body going rigid as he stared at his wife.

  "Nat," Hayden whispered, and there was more pain in that single word than in all of Caleb's physical agony.

  “Hayden,” Caleb warned, his voice weak.

  Everything hinged on whatever the Sheriff did next.

  CHAPTER 41

  Hayden stared at Natalia, his entire world narrowing to her face. The familiar curve of her jaw, the way her hair fell across her shoulder, even the slight tilt of her head when she spoke his name—everything about her was painfully, perfectly right.