There was an aperture directly above her through which the spindle disappeared and, after securing her weapon, she allowed herself to be carried up and out of the chamber. Once through to the next level, she dropped to the floor, sprawling in a heap.

  From where she lay, she could see out and into the main atrium. She went over to check and saw Zeta’s two fire teams in the process of setting up. She waved at Grimes but he didn’t see her. She picked up all her equipment and carried it around to the northern side, so that she was positioned directly behind her squad mates. The positioning was perfect, largely because there was no northern entrance, only east and west, so she didn’t have to worry about watching her back. Also, from this elevated position she had clear line of sight to all three of the lower entrances.

  She was just congratulating herself when she noticed the spider web glistening just above her head. She studied the fine tracery of threads running from the ceiling down to a side beam. There was no sign of the spider that had made it. Then she noticed something else: the web had started to vibrate.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Are we getting anything at all from Alpha?” Webster asked.

  The tech lifted her head, lips pursed. She slowly shook her head.

  Things had started to fall apart pretty quickly once the squads had started taking fire. Alpha and Beta teams had attempted to dig in and hold their ground but had quickly been pushed back, losing three men in as many minutes. With Alpha’s sergeant gone, the squad appeared to be in disarray and, from the few cameras they still had access to, Webster could see little other than Marines taking cover. So far, there had been no clear sighting of the enemy.

  “Okay, what about Beta? What’s happening there?”

  “The numbers speak for themselves, sir.”

  Webster could see the figures but didn’t want to believe them. Out of a nine-man squad only three troopers remained, and two of those were flashing amber, suggesting that they were badly injured.

  “Can we get through to them? At least find out what’s going on?”

  “We’ve tried, sir, but they’re not making much sense.”

  The tech patched the audio through to Webster. The man hadn’t been lying. Over the ragged sound of breathing he could make out some garbled speech in a language he didn’t recognise. He’d come across this before when dealing with a critically injured crewman aboard the Syracuse. English had not been the man’s first language and, distracted by the pain, he had reverted to his mother tongue. He hadn’t made it back.

  Webster raised his eyebrows at the tech, looking for further clarification.

  “It’s coming up as Parvalan, sir. I can’t be certain but he seems to be praying.”

  “Okay, okay,” he said and was thankful when she ended the link. Webster tried to compose himself, “Order both teams to make their way back to the dropships.”

  “That’s the problem, sir. Beta team’s been cut off. I’ve tried sending them an exfil package but something’s stopping it from getting through.”

  “Okay, keep trying,” Webster wanted to punch something.

  That earlier idea of them attempting to seize control of the whole ship now seemed laughable. How arrogant had they been to think that - just because they’d taken out her shields - boarding her would be easy? Here was an enemy they’d do well not to under-estimate in the future.

  If it had been up to him, Webster would have ordered a full withdrawal there and then. He already feared that it was too late to save Alpha and Beta and could see that, if they didn’t act decisively, the same fate might well befall the others. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the man in charge and he knew that it was highly unlikely that Faulkner would give the order to withdraw so long as Mackie’s team looked like they might get something out of this. Because, if they did, it would win both men enough accolades to last them each a lifetime.

  He turned to his left and raised his voice.

  “How are things going with Delta, sir?”

  At first, he didn’t think that the old man had heard him. Faulkner appeared engrossed in what he was seeing, his fingers steepled in front of his face.

  “Mackie’s lot?” Faulkner sat up a little straighter. “They’re looking good. Only a little behind schedule.”

  He indicated the screen. Webster angled his head to one side in an attempt to make sense of what it was he was seeing.

  “That’s a double helix, isn’t it?”

  “I know, interesting isn’t it?”

  The camera showed what appeared to be one of the ship’s main engines. It was bone white and glistened as the drones inside the engine room buzzed around it, painting its surface with green lasers. They covered every inch of the thing, probing for data. The engine had the appearance of two inter-locked spinal cords moving independently.

  Webster’s gut turned cold at the sight of it. “What’s it made of?”

  “Not, metal, that’s for certain. It appears to be largely organic.”

  “I see. Have you spoken with him yet? Mackie, I mean.”

  Faulkner clucked his tongue as if to admonish him. “No. I think Major Mackie has better things to do than talk to an old goat like me.”

  Webster couldn’t bring himself to look away from the screen. There was a whole network of pipes and drains in the background which appeared to be flexing and pulsing independently. He wondered if Davitz would have a better idea of what it was they were looking at.

  What they were seeing was incredible and he had to keep reminding himself that he was one of the first humans to ever glimpse this bizarre new alternate technology. At the same time, he wondered if what he was seeing would ever be fully public. It potentially contained so many groundbreaking innovations that it would surely receive the highest security rating once they returned home.

  “When they’re finished, will you be ordering a general withdrawal, sir?” Webster said, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “I can order it, though I’m not sure what good it will do.”

  He indicated another screen over to his right. From what Webster could make out, it was obvious that a full-scale engagement was currently under way. Only, he couldn’t think who might be involved.

  Faulkner saw his surprise.

  “That’s Team Zeta,” he said. “They’re the ones keeping Mackie’s escape route clear. Looks like they’re having a rough time of it.”

  *

  LaCruz had her rifle set up on its bipod but, even so, the angles were tight and she was having a devil of a time with her suit. Unlike the normal suits, these mobile infantry suits offered a lot more protection, but the trade-off for that was a loss of flexibility - the arms and shoulders had not been designed for firing from a prone position. So instead, she’d been forced to fire from a sitting position, with the barrel braced between her feet. She’d even toyed with the idea of taking her helmet off to allow herself to fire from a more comfortable kneeling position. She’d checked the air quality and, while less than ideal, it was still breathable. What had stopped her from doing so was the thought that once the order to ship out came through, they’d have to move quickly. She didn’t want to have to choose between fitting her helmet or leaving her rifle behind.

  The fog had reached them before they’d had time to realise there was something wrong with it. She wasn’t even sure where it had come from, one moment everything had been clear, with good sight lines, and the next it was a blur. If it had just been a regular fog, things would have been fine but this fog was different, it seemed to have been designed to infiltrate and then interfere with their equipment, so that LaCruz had to keep cycling through the settings on her sights, from infra-red to microwave, in the hope of getting a clear glimpse of their opponents.

  The enemy had come through the western entrance and targeted the first fire team straight away. The camouflage the hostiles were using was excellent so the easiest way of establishing where they were was to simply wait until they fired and then target their weapon’s heat signature. The weapons themselves seemed fairly low yield but that didn’t stop them from being highly effective. It made for a strange mixture of sophisticated yet primitive field measures.

  The weapons were clearly effective though - her HUD informed her that half the squad’s diagnostics were flashing amber - though she had no way of knowing how serious those injuries actually were. The only thing keeping her calm was the fact that Grimes’ readings still maintained a healthy green glow.

  Eventually, after some tit-for-tat engagements, Hayes broke radio silence, coming over the squad-link to authorise the use of grenades. The response was virtually instantaneous; someone must have had a grenade locked and loaded in readiness. LaCruz was shocked by the ferocity of the explosion in such an enclosed area. On the plus side, the explosive blast was fierce enough that the fog parted momentarily and she was able to see the enemy for the first time.

  It was only later, once she’d had time to analyse everything, that she fully comprehended what it was she’d glimpsed through the fog. The enemy wasn’t human, that was for sure. Their bodies possessing some kind of hard outer carapace - something between a horseshoe crab and a red scorpion. They looked aggressive. She didn’t know how she figured that, with the creatures lacking any recognisably human traits, but that was the impression she was left with.

  Which was why she didn’t hesitate.

  No sooner had the reticule settled on her target than she squeezed the trigger, firing three shots in quick succession.

  Her rifle carried TSEM rounds about the size of a stim can, explosive warheads which despatched a lethal hail of flechettes. Unlike the snipers of old who traditionally went for a head shot, LaCruz and her ilk were trained to target the centre of the torso and it was this tactic which invariably saved her.

  The first creature reared up on its four back legs, its weapon searching for her. Her first entered a spot just above its abdomen, punching a fist sized hole straight through its chest. She didn’t have time to watch the creature die, she was too busy lining up her next shot.

  She pulled the second shot a little high, catching the creature in the upper torso. The subsequent explosion destroying two of its arms and most of its head.

  By then, the fog was closing in and her third shot was one of pure instinct than anything as it became increasingly difficult to sight accurately. Still, she was sure that she saw the creature go down just as the fog enveloped it.

  “Good shooting, LaCruz,” Hayes said over the squad net. “Mind telling me what rounds you’re using?”

  “TSEMs, Gunny.”

  “Oh, I thought as much,” they had nothing like that in their armoury, so for them it wasn’t an option. “Well, keep at it. They’re soaking up everything we throw at ‘em.”

  The connection was cut as the enemy opened up with a fresh salvo. From the look of it, they were starting to fan out around the far walkway. Those first grenades must have caught them out when they’d bunched together but they were quick to learn from their mistakes.

  LaCruz fired twice more, using the energy pulses as her guide but then had to stop when she felt a sharp pain in her arm. She thought for a moment that she’d been wounded but when she looked, she saw that something had attached itself to her sleeve. A kind of silver spider, big enough to pass muster as a piece of costume jewellery.

  She grabbed it and, with some difficulty, pulled it off, revealing a small tear in her suit. But that shouldn’t have been possible. On further inspection, she found three more creatures had attached themselves to her. Two came away easily but the last one had attached itself firmly to the side of her neck and seemed reluctant to let go.

  She knelt up, drew her pistol and struck it hard. She had to hit it twice before she could get it off and by that point, there was a decent sized hole in her suit along with quite a bit of blood. The assumption was that the blood must be hers, although she’d felt no pain.

  She was rattled now and quickly climbed to her feet, scanning the floor to see if there was any more of them. She didn’t like the fact that she’d been bitten by these things – the thought of some deadly nerve agent entering her bloodstream she found particularly unsettling. So, when she saw that some of the insects she’d removed were still stirring, she reacted reflexively, stamping them into the ground.

  By the time she’d finished, her boots were sticky with a liquefied paste.

  But they hadn’t finished with her, even then.

  A flashing icon alerted her to the fact that her suit had been compromised. A little late, but better than nothing, she reasoned. Then, when she chanced to look down, she saw that sections of her suit, where the creatures had first latched on, were starting to melt. Smoke was trailing up from the tears, giving off an acrid scent. She used her canteen to sluice out the burn sites, but soon ran out of water.

  The suit’s response to this was to administer a series of pain-relieving injections. That would have to do her until she could get a medic to look at her wounds.

  She lay there for a moment, trying to get her breath back. With the suit’s integrity compromised there was no reason to persevere with it any longer as it would offer virtually no protection in space. There was no way now that she was going to be able to get out the same way she’d come in. She was going to have to find another way.

  But before she could think about that, something swung down from the floor above, striking her hard in the chest. She staggered backwards and it was all she could do to keep her footing. Over on her left, the thing which had struck her had landed and rolled gracefully away. At first, she couldn’t make out what it was. It was hard and shiny and let out a noise like a controlled wheezing.

  Then, slowly, it started to unfurl, sections of its body sliding over one another until it had raised itself up to its full height. A metre and a half tall, it settled back on its four hind legs in order, it seemed, to get a better look at her. So distracted was she by all this that it was only in retrospect that LaCruz saw that an underslung rifle was now levelled squarely at her chest.

  The rifle acted as a stark reminder of who it was she was dealing with here and, if she needed any further prompting, all she had to do was look at the thing’s eyes. There were six of them, all currently fixed on her and they appeared to be considering their next move.

  She figured that if her mother had been here, she’d have been only too quick to point out that the creature was probably more scared of her than she was of it and, with her rifle having been knocked from her hands by the impact, she decided to put the theory to the test. She endeavoured to make herself look as imposing as possible by throwing her arms in the air and letting out a deep, ululating scream.

  The alien shrank back, the mandibles around its mouth, rippling with surprise.

  Recognising her opportunity, LaCruz leapt forward and made to snatch the weapon away before the thing could fire. The tactic worked a lot better than she’d expected but, as she dragged the weapon to one side, the sheer weight of it pulled her off balance.

  As a result, the creature missed her when it attempted to spray something in her face.

  LaCruz crouched down, momentarily at a loss as to what to do next. The alien weapon had no discernible operating functions and she didn’t have time to work out how to use it. Instead, taking hold of the muzzle, she swung it like a club, striking the creature on the side of the head with satisfying ferocity. The blow pitched her opponent back against the handrail, the impact seemingly having damaged several of its eye stalks. It pushed itself clear of the handrail and then flew at her with its claws raised.

  Her blood was up by this point and she delivered it two hearty thwacks, one to its thorax and one to the section of modified carapace covering its neck. This last blow seemed to do the most damage, pitching the creature over onto its side so that it lay there, its legs convulsing.

  LaCruz stood over it until the convulsions stopped altogether. Unsure what to do next, she weighed the weapon in her hands. Adrenalin was flooding her system at this point, making her feel nauseous, though the last thing she wanted to do was to throw up. The weapon appeared to be broken so she threw it aside.

  She was walking over to retrieve her rifle when someone shot her.

  The impact was minimal, hardly causing her a backward step but the pain that accompanied it was immediate and intense. It felt like someone had fired a molten arrow in between her ribs. Suddenly, even the simple act of drawing breath seemed too much for her and her strength simply drained away. It was with a growing sense of detachment that she realised that her legs were giving way. She looked around for something to steady herself with but there was nothing and with a sense of resignation she hit the floor.

  While her motor skills slipped away from her, she somehow managed to access the squad link.

  “Gunny, I’m hit,” was all she said before the channel was flooded with static.

  *

  Webster was still reeling from all that had just happened when Faulkner stood up and went over to speak with Yamada.

  He requested he be put straight through to Major Mackie.

  The squad defending the entrance to the engine room had fought bravely but ultimately they all realised that they’d been overwhelmed by a superior force.

  From where Webster sat, it was unclear how they were going to turn this thing around. No matter how well prepared the Marines might have been, they had been equipped and trained with the idea of facing a human opponent. No-one had been expecting these crustacean type creatures, with this bizarre ‘fog’ of theirs.

  He doubted that it was their armaments which were giving them the edge - low power energy weapons didn’t exactly fill him with dread – but the creatures appeared more than adept at using them. If the Marines had been matched against a unit of similar size then there was every indication that they would have gained the upper hand but that wasn’t proving to be the case, they were heavily outnumbered and if they didn’t find some way of tipping the scales in their favour then they were looking at a total rout.

  Major Mackie and his men were in danger of being completely overwhelmed. Gunnery Sergeant Hayes’ camera might still be operating but the man himself had died thirteen minutes earlier. The main picture showed a large section of floor draped in a milky fog, thick with particulates. Every once in a while, they could only watch as group of aliens rushed past Hayes’ position. The officers on-board the Mantis could only guess at the number of enemy reinforcements currently flooding into the chamber.