Ellis had just finished his second cup of coffee when Lara walked in and dropped the news. It was the perfect end to an almost perfect day, his first real day as an accomplished team member—another mission! He could hardly wait; he was still high from striding through Deep 4, wiping out the nest in that massive onslaught of power…
Pulaski actually choked on his dinner; a chunk of soypro coughed out onto his shirt. “No! We got leave!”
Jess hit the mute on the video and stared at Lara. “Is it for sure?”
Lara nodded. “Came from Grigson himself. All I got says it’s gotta be a DS station—the quad listed is way the hell out. Pop said he’d come down when he got details.”
Scowling, Pulaski wiped the food off his shirt; Jess frowned angrily and stared at the tabletop. Ellis decided not to jump up and clap; obviously, they’d been looking forward to their week off.
“Sorry, guys, not my call.” Lara picked up a tray and chose a dinner; she sat down next to Ellis and looked at Jess, studying him.
“You okay?”
Jess exhaled sharply. “It’s not me—just another run, right? It’s Teape. I thought we was gonna get him a psych evaluation—”
Pulaski cut in. “Yeah, he looks like dogshit. This ain’t fair!”
Ellis had forgotten about Teape for a minute; his excitement dimmed in the face of Jess’s and Pulaski’s selfless concern. The team’s point man still hadn’t put in an appearance since getting back to Nemesis.
Lara sighed. “I know, but he’s not showing any of the signals; and it may be a nuke from orbit, we don’t know yet. Maybe there’s not even a bug problem, there’s no confirmation.”
Jess nodded. “Yeah, right.”
She turned to Ellis. “How’s Max?”
“He’s fine. Couple of paint stains but no erosions in the neutralizing coat; weapons cleaned, banks full—” Ellis frowned, what else? Max had checked out fine except for a few minor fluctuations. “Oh, there was a dip in the aminos, lysine again. I compensated.”
“How much?”
Ellis shrugged. “Hardly point two five. I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”
Lara shook her head. “If you had to compensate, it is; anything goes wrong with Max, I need to know right away—no matter how unimportant it seems to you.”
“Sorry,” said Ellis, suddenly feeling even less enthusiastic about his day. Lara didn’t look angry but she wasn’t smiling, either.
“Probably nothing anyway,” she said, and picked up her coffee cup and looked at Jess. “Do you want me to tell Teape?”
“No,” sighed Jess. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Let him sleep.”
“This ain’t fair,” mumbled Pulaski again. No one answered.
Ellis turned and watched the silent video, the Sergeant Death character laying waste to another horde of enemies. He felt vaguely unhappy again, affected as much by the mood of the team as Lara’s slight reprimand.
At least there’s Max. He’ll be one run closer to getting out— and I’ll be the one operating the controls.
Ellis brightened a little as they all watched the screen without speaking, waiting for Pop to come and fill them in. There was still Max to look forward to, that sensation of being with him when Max had exterminated the screaming insectile queen…
He slipped into a half daydream, remembering. And in spite of the guilt it inspired, he hoped that Max would be needed.
* * *
They had reached the deep-space station and gone in. Teape was being carried to hell, but something was wrong, something important.
He tried to think but could only feel the cool and bony claws of the drone that carried him, the rotting damp heat pressing against his face—
The mask! Teape lay passive, but inside he moaned. His scrotum pressed even tighter to his body, his heart double-timed. He didn’t have his mask on, it wasn’t there, he’d forgotten somehow—
“Pop, Jess—I forgot my mask,” he whispered tersely, and the drone hissed. It pressed him against a dark and sticky wall, the stench of necrotic flesh strong, nauseating.
Silence, except for the breathing sibilance of the creatures he couldn’t see, the nest almost pitch-black and seething with alien life. The drone that had placed him darted its long and horrible skull forward and gurgled out jellied secretions, roping Teape to the structure. It started low and came up, the thin, muscular talons stringing the fluid efficiently across Teape’s body.
“Pop! Lara! Somebody! I forgot my mask, you gotta help me!”
No response, not even the crackle of static.
The drone slithered away and Teape saw the egg less than a meter in front of him. He suddenly realized his mistake and struggled desperately at the setting bonds, too late; if he’d only run, tried to defend himself—! The drone would have killed him outright, a violent death but a quick one.
As he thought these things, the egg’s leathery petals folded up and out, revealing the embryo’s carrier inside.
Panic, and Teape whipped his head from side to side, the drying ties around his helmet barely loosening. There was no way out. He was going to die a long and horrible death, webbed into submission and impregnated by a filthy and savage parasite; he’d coma as the drone grew inside of him, feeding, only to wake up in pain and terror—
—and die alone, finished the Voice smoothly. You’re going to die alone, surrounded by madmen in the dark. No one can hear you—except for me. Talk to me, Teape, listen to what I have to say. I only hope you can hear me over the sound of your own screams…
“Pop,” he called weakly, and Pop finally answered him—but not over the headset.
“Let’s make this short and sweet, people,” rasped Pop, and Teape saw him now, roped into the host’s wall only a meter away. Beside the dying commander, Pulaski hung lifelessly, his guts already torn out. Blood trickled out of the open cavity, widening the black stain that covered his lower body. Past him could only be Jess, face obscured by one of the repugnant hatchlings.
Pulaski raised his head and grinned with bloodstained teeth. “Ain’t no help for any of us, Teepee.”
But he can’t—
Teape felt a rush of relief so overpowering that he sagged against his restraints; it was a dream, it had to be! Dead men couldn’t speak, he wasn’t here, this wasn’t happening!
Think again, said the Voice, and Teape turned and heard the wet, ripping sound of his sanity fleeing, the sound of the tail as it uncoiled and the creature sprang.
The talons landed and dug in. The leathery moist belly of the face-hugger slapped against his nose and slid down in one tight adjustment. The slippery wet mouth found his, wormed between bruised lips and flared, separating his clenched teeth like cracking a nut.
“Teape—” Someone, movement.
It shot into his throat, gagging him, the extending tubule spreading like glue to block air, the slimy seed of an alien fetus waiting to slide into his stomach, can’t breathe—!
“Teape, wake up!” A hand shaking him in the dark, strong fingers against his arm, and he was sitting up, breathing raggedly, sheathed in hot sweat.
“Take it easy, man, breathe easy.” A low voice, familiar. The grip on his arm let up but stayed where it was, warm and comforting; something that felt real.
His own voice was cracked and dry. “Jess, that you? Lights…”
The ceiling panel glowed to life, making Teape squint. He was sitting up in bed, legs tangled in a damp wool blanket. Jess stood beside him, looking concerned.
“Where are we? Are we there?” He kicked at the blanket, overheated. His tank was stuck to his chest and he lay back, breathing deeply.
Jess’s dark gaze was intense, scrutinizing. “We’re in the quad but still lookin’ for that service terminal; Lara says it might’ve drifted from course, but we’re no more than a coupla hours in either direction. I came by to tell you, heard you in here talkin’…”
Teape nodded, then swung his legs over the bunk, floor cold beneath his bare feet. The clock read 1800 hours; he’d slept the afternoon away. He reached for a bottle of water and drank deeply, the liquid cool and sweet.
“You okay, man? You ought to get Ellis to give you something for the dreams, maybe. Just until we get to our vacation time…”
Teape ran a shaky hand through his hair. The nightmare was already blurring at the edges, the intense emotions losing their clarity. He’d thought about getting hooked up more than once; cons weren’t supposed to have access to meds, but the Company had a runaround clause set up for baiters. It was possible for Teape to stay vaguely high twenty-four-seven, if he so chose—as he had been through most of his teen years, ironically enough. Overuse had helped to land him in jail in the first place.
He had stopped considering that outlet when the Voice had begun its stealthy visits; getting stoned would give it an edge, and Teape couldn’t afford that. Not with the Voice what it was.
“No drugs. Thanks, but no way. Don’t want to end up like old Max, y’know?” He smiled at Jess, aware that it was a weak effort.
He looked down at his trembling hands, unable to lose the lame half-smile. “If I’m living in a nightmare I want to know about it; I gotta keep in touch with where I am if I’m going to discern, dig? Sometimes I get lost as it is, and that’s stone-cold sober.”
He looked up at Jess, a little surprised that he’d said so much. Jess’s solemn gaze was sympathetic, and Teape suddenly felt a lot better; he’d basically admitted it out loud, “I worry about losing my mind.” The response was a quiet acceptance, no judgment passed.
“But why did you really come by, Martin?” Teape batted his eyelashes and smiled for real. “You want to borrow my lingerie, don’t you? A little black satin for the boys, perhaps?”
“Hey, you knock that shit!” Jess’s dark skin actually flushed, but he was grinning. He walked to the door and looked back at Teape.
“You already crazy, you know that?” Jess laughed and left the room.
“Getting close, anyway,” said Teape to himself, then got up to find his pants.
* * *
Lara left Pop to watch the sensors and hurried to the lab. Ellis had ’commed, sounding worried—a problem with Max.
They’d be in range of the station soon, and she needed to get back to feed info to Pop; she stepped up her pace, breaking into a jog as she reached the lab turnoff.
God, let it be something simple, a muscle cramp, something he could have misread—The possible infestation had just been reported and they’d reached the quad in under forty-eight hours; if Max was malfunctioning, the mission went abort. Any survivors could be written off.
She reached the lab and hit the lock, catching her breath. Ellis was standing by the Max’s medical console, looking intently at a read.
“Whatcha got?”
Ellis glanced up, his face incredibly young for his twenty-four years. “The monitor started jumping again about five minutes ago. I increased the oxy and dropped the sedative count by two, and he seems to have responded; take a look.”
Lara barely had to; the pulsing lines of Max at rest were blue and steady, the way they were supposed to be. She tapped up the recorded fluctuations and scanned them quickly.
“Heart rate down, too. You run an EKG?”
Ellis nodded. “Normal.”
Lara looked back at the current reads and then sighed, turning to Ellis. “Well, whatever it was, it’s over. We’ll put in for a replacement when we get back to base, just to be on the safe side. The last thing we need is for Max not to fire when we’re—what’s the matter?”
Ellis had been staring at her, brow furrowed; not much of a poker face. She saw anger, bewilderment. He seemed reluctant to speak, but then looked at the Max and answered in a rush of passion.
“You talk about him like he was—I don’t know, like a machine. Like there wasn’t a man in there.”
Lara opened her mouth to defend herself, then thought about what he was saying and closed it.
“You’re right,” she said slowly. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember that after you’ve been around Max for a while; no movement, no sound, no humanity, you know?”
Ellis nodded, his expression softening. He looked at the giant warrior thoughtfully and put his hands in the pockets of his long coat.
“I’ve been thinking about it since Traon. Why would anyone volunteer for a Max, for any reason? It’s basically complete sensory deprivation for months at a time, eating and shitting through tubes, drugged—”
“Maybe they don’t get a choice,” said Lara.
“What do you mean?”
Lara looked into his earnest face and sighed; had she been so young only four years ago? “Like you said, Ellis. Why would anyone sign up for that?”
Ellis smiled like he thought she was kidding. “You mean the Company forced them…?” His smile faded.
“They wouldn’t do anything like that. They couldn’t, not with the laws the way they are.”
“You haven’t worked here that long,” said Lara, only half kidding. She wouldn’t necessarily put it past the corporate sector, although it did seem unlikely.
The shipwide clicked on, and Pop’s voice entered the still room. “We’re picking up a large body on scan, looks like our target. Lara, report to command deck. Everyone else, get to crew stations; look alive, people, we’re gonna be there in ten.”
“On my way,” called Lara, then smiled at Ellis.
“Go ahead and run the diagnostics and stand by for word. And call me if anything else comes up, okay?”
Ellis nodded and headed for his tiny office, just off of Max’s room. Lara turned and stepped back into the corridor, wishing they had been able to talk longer; he seemed to have such a hard time opening up. It had been good to see him express himself, even in anger.
She trotted toward ops, trying to clear her mind of concerns over Ellis’s social skills. She had a lot to do; if the station was infested, it was going to be a big one.