Still, there was no way they could hold this position. No way.
―Fall back to the maintenance room!" Benti rose from her crouch, sliding up against Clarence, who stepped back, and she with him, moving like practiced dance partners.
―We lose this spot, they‘re going to swamp us!" Orlav shouted.
―We stay here, they‘ll swamp us sooner!" Benti shouted back.
The flares showed a swarm of pale globes, like living snotbags, scuttling up the ceiling from behind the shambling mob, toward them.
The passageway behind them was an unknown quantity. No time to look at the map. No telling
what they‘d find there.
No avoiding that. No time for caution.
She yanked a grenade from her belt, ripping the pin out in the same motion. ―No more jabber! Get going!"
A raised eyebrow from Clarence, a look of panic from Gersten.
She tossed it as they broke and ran.
Not far enough.
The force of it slammed into her, slammed through her, throwing her forward into Clarence. Her bones shrieked in protest. All the air fled her lungs. She rolled over the top of Clarence, heat at her back and then on her face.
None of that mattered.
―Keep moving!" she screamed, before she‘d even opened her eyes, crawling to her knees. Don’t ever stop moving. Unless you want to die.
Her ears rang like wineglasses. She couldn‘t hear anything, hardly could see anything. Slapped a hand on Clarence‘s helmet as he pushed himself from the floor. Cast about, Orlav and Gersten scrambling to their feet. Where was Tsardikos?
Aftershock: A wash of warm water came tumbling down the passageway and swept her legs out
from under her just as she‘d gotten all the way up. It was murky, it was rank, and swept along with it was one of them , flailing and thrashing, and a trailing arm—no, it wasn‘t an arm, it was a whip of bone, it was a blade of body —slashed Orlav across the back, arcing a wide spray of blood across Benti and Clarence, peppering blood through the filthy water and across the pipes, and slamming her down again, her mouth an ―O" of shock as Benti, who had never released her rifle, they were all better than that, drew a bead and fired a hole through the thing‘s chest until she could see the other wall, and watched as, truly dead, it smacked up against a tank and lay there.
Thought she saw something else, too, near Orlav—one of those snot creatures—but, no, nothing when she spun, it must‘ve just been something bobbing in the water. Part of the thing she‘d just killed.
A glance down the passageway brought her a small measure of relief. Patchy fires singed churning sewage around a new barricade of ceiling and caved-in tanks. It‘d worked for now—there was no other movement. The smell of mingled crap and the stench of the enemy made her cough. It‘d gag her if she let it.
But so would the memory of them, those things, rising up despite being blasted full of bullet holes.
They wouldn‘t—couldn‘t—be stopped for long. She could already feel the vibration of digging. The shit wouldn‘t hold.
She surged to her feet, too fast, off balance, shook her head angrily—she needed clarity now more than ever.
A quick check, Clarence was okay, Gersten okay, just cursing a lot as he tried to lift Orlav.
Her hearing had started to return. Over the cursing, she could hear Orlav shrieking with agony.
There was another sound, too, another kind of shrieking, like a man being devoured alive. It almost froze Benti, until she realized it came from the other side of the barricade.
Tsardikos, screaming as those things took him apart. Nothing Benti could do about it. Nothing that wouldn‘t put the rest of them in danger.
She shook it off. She shook it off, even as it damaged her, and scrambled over to Orlav, shit bouncing from her shins.
―She‘s bleeding bad," Gersten said, supporting nearly all of Orlav‘s weight.
That was the least of Orlav‘s worries. This tainted water in her wounds would kill her anyway. It would just take a little longer. Benti leaned down for a quick inspection, and froze. The injury itself was long but not deep. She could see the blue curves in the dark muscle of her back, but the spine didn‘t shine through. What kind of a victory was it when the medic in her leapt for joy that she couldn‘t see bone? But fastened to the lower back was a quivering bulb of pus, finger like tendrils digging into the open wound ecstatically. Holy crap. It looked like a parasite of some kind. She reached for it, and stopped. Not here, not in this water.
―We have to get her out of here!" She threw one of Orlav‘s arms over her shoulder, the other around her waist, taking some of the burden off of Gersten. ―Head for maintenance. Clarence, come on, let‘s go!"
They fled, dragging Orlav between them. Clarence staggered in their wake, watching the darkness behind them. He didn‘t have any more flares. Their flashlights would have to do.
Benti flinched as she thought she heard something in the air ducts above them.
―Orlav," Benti raised her voice, turned to yell in her ear, ―Orlav! Report!"
― ‘s fadin‘ . . ." she slurred, and her head dropped, eyes wide open, not even pretending to walk now, feet dragging in the water. ―. . . where . . ."
―There‘s the door!"
A burst of speed and they collapsed against it. Locked. They were trapped outside. Benti propped Orlav against the door, Gersten shouldering her weight again. ―She‘s bad," he moaned.
Benti ripped the faceplate from the control panel, straightforward wiring again. She walked her fingers along the wires.
―Oh god, she‘s bad, look at her face, look at her face, look—" Benti yanked a wire, and looked.
What looked back at her was not Orlav.
>Lopez 1503 hours
Lopez had her orders. Find out what the hell is up with this damn ship was down at the bottom of her priorities. Get to the bridge was at the top. But the more time she spent on this damn ship , the harder it was to ignore that she might not achieve the first without knowing the last. Couldn‘t help thinking of the intel blackout. Found herself rather taken with the idea of knowing something Rebecca didn‘t want her to know.
―So tell me," she nudged. ―Tell me what I‘m looking at." Knew whatever came out of Smith‘s
mouth would come out sideways, but that was okay. She could make it honest.
―Covenant get sick too," Smith said haltingly. ―We noticed it in some of them. Any of the prisoners displaying the symptoms we kept in isolation. Just in case." He wiped his mouth, still resisting Lopez‘s grip. We took every precaution against it. Every precaution."
He stopped. Lopez jabbed him in the side with her rifle. She was pretty sure Smith was going to give her another scar eventually.
―It made them aggressive. Savage." Smith worked his mouth, clearly thinking about the words before he said them. ―We did some tests. Managed to isolate it." Now he couldn‘t look away from the bodies. ―An alien virus."
Percy raised his head, raised his eyebrows, as MacCraw covered his mouth and leapt back.
―We‘ve been standing here breathing around this thing!"
Smith smiled, no humor in it. Mostly disdain. ―It doesn‘t work like that."
―Did it jump from Covenant to human?" Percy asked.
A dull boom reverberated through the floor, the walls shuddering slightly. ―Grenade?" Mahmoud mouthed. Not good. Like the explosion had jump-started his urgency again.
Smith relaxed, stopped pulling away from Lopez. Accepting his fate, finally?
―It did."
>Benti 1507 hours
Get moving again, soldier!
―Get—" The words stuck in her throat, wouldn‘t come out, not fast enough.
Orlav—the thing staring out from behind Orlav‘s eyes—opened its mouth, lips already purple and cheeks veined with green. In control now, it turned Orlav‘s head, drew Gersten into an embrace using Orlav‘s arm thrown over Gersten‘s shoulder.
What used to be Orlav bit into Gersten‘s cheek.
The words still wouldn‘t leave her mouth. They were stuck. As Gersten shrieked, she couldn‘t look away, the teeth sinking into the cheek and worrying it. Blood washed down Gersten‘s throat to soak his collar. Orlav‘s other arm was already writhing and changing right in front of Benti, becoming something bulbous that had nothing to do with the Marine she‘d known.
That arm, that club, that infernal claw, rose, about to become a weapon crashing down on her skull.
Clarence shoved her aside, fired point-blank into Orlav‘s temple, ripping a tunnel through the skull.
As the body slumped, Clarence matter-of-factly put another burst through the heart.
It dropped, Gersten screaming and flailing to be free. Staggering back, holding one hand against his torn cheek. ―Jesus, Jesus . . ."
Clarence popped the empty clip. It hissed in the water at his feet, Benti watching in the flashlight‘s glow, trying to adjust to what had just happened.
He slapped another in, turned, grabbed Benti‘s shirt and hauled her to her feet, which brought her out of it. A once-over to confirm she was uninjured, and he tipped his chin at the wires she‘d left exposed, then stared at the grenade-created wreckage behind them as it shuddered and shifted, pushed from the other side. The water was rising around their knees.
She got back to it.
―Benti, my face," Gersten moaned.
―I know," she said, shaking fingers stripping this wire, then that wire, ―just let me get this. Then I‘ll take care of you." She needed a moment so her hands were steady before she did anything medical for Gersten. Clarence had his hand on his pistol. Most people wouldn‘t have noticed, but she knew Clarence. Just in case? Was this what it came down to? Knew, too, Gersten, and not sure she could do it. Any of it. But knowing she‘d have to, somehow.
A crash and tumble behind them. Something was breaking through the wreckage. A spike of
tension in Clarence‘s posture. Her hands were wet, the wires were slippery. She twisted the two and the lock clacked open.
She spun the lever, shoulder to the door, and pushed. It stuck.
A dragging sound from behind them. A hiss like static. A moaning.
―Oh for Christ‘s sake come on!" Another shove, and it gave suddenly, sewage spilling into the opening, and her tumbling after it. Gersten sagged in after her. Clarence backed in and shoved the hatch closed quick as thought.
Benti looked up, into the light.
A Covenant Elite stood there, looking down at her.
Holding a cricket bat in one alien hand.
>Lopez 1507 hours
Smith looked at Lopez at last, motioning to the rifle she now held none too nonchalantly by his head.
―Sergeant, please. I am not the enemy."
―You said that already." But she released him. ―So I guess you‘re trying to tell me one of your plague-carriers got out, grabbed one of the crew, and dragged them into this here cupboard
to—" Burgundy asking if the Covenant ate their dead .
―I guess," Smith said, edging toward the far door. He might be trying to get away from her, but he was right. They‘d lingered long enough. Didn‘t know if Smith would give her anything else anyway.
Maybe, too, she‘d wanted a tiny window of respite for her team before they went back into the thick of it.
―Rakesh, get the door. MacCraw, get your damn act together." He gave the jumbled bodies a wide berth, hand clamped over his nose and mouth.
―It‘s locked, Sarge. Security coded."
Lopez gestured to Smith. ―Be my guest." The lying bastard.
Clearly glad the interrogation had ended for the moment, Smith rushed over, pushed his way in front of Lopez‘s unhelpful boys, and punched in his code. The door slid open.
A pulsing white sack of flesh with gnarled green outgrowths and tentacles for legs stared up at them. The fugliest thing Lopez had ever seen.
In that instant, trying to figure out what the hell they were looking at, it leapt, snapping out its tendrils. Rakesh was closest, had been the most eager to leave. The thing caught him around the torso like an overeager dance partner. No time for Rakesh to react.
―Shoot it!" Smith shouted, stumbling back.
Rakesh yelped. Beat at the sac that clung to his chest. Its grip too tight for him to wrench off. Lopez took aim, but Rakesh wouldn‘t keep still, cries rising into a shriek. His shirt darkening and soaking, oh god, the thing was eating into his chest, and she could hear more coming toward the door—
―Shut it!" Lopez screamed to Singh. He slapped the controls. No code. Percy lunged for Rakesh.
Tried to get a grip on the creature. Knocked aside by his thrashing. Mahmoud firing past them at something else coming fast from beyond the door.
Smith shoved Rakesh out the door, and the pale sac with him. Hammered the controls. The door shut.
Rakesh still shrieking.
MacCraw reached for the door, but Lopez stepped in front of him, a firm hand on his chest. ―No."
―We can‘t just leave him out there!" Yeah, we can. If you want to live.
Singh pale. Percy and Mahmoud weren‘t protesting. Only the new guy.
Rakesh stopped screaming.
MacCraw‘s shoulders slumped. Moved away from the pressure of her hand on his chest. ―Sorry, Sarge," MacCraw murmured.
―It‘s okay," she said. ―It‘s okay."
But it wasn‘t.
She turned, and put all her weight into that turn.
Smashed Smith across the face with her fist.
>Benti 1510 hours
A tall man jumped between Benti and the Elite with the cricket bat. ―Don‘t shoot!" He wore the torn orange jumpsuit of a prisoner. He hadn‘t shaved in days. One eye sagged a little in its socket.
Despite herself, Benti didn‘t shoot. Maybe because the cricket bat, a narrow but solid slab of wood, puzzled her as much as the man.
They‘d tumbled into what looked like a storeroom or a transition space between rooms. Just the door and racks of tools and parts. A ladder at the rear that might lead up somewhere or might not.
The white walls were covered with tiny black marks, like some kind of design.
―He‘s not infected, it‘s okay, don‘t shoot!" the man said. ―My name‘s Patrick Rimmer. I‘m a prisoner, but I wasn‘t in for anything serious, I swear!"
―That‘s a Covenant you‘re protecting," Benti said. ―Why the crap should we care if he‘s infected or not?" She got up off the floor, rifle at the ready. The naked Covie looking up at her, shushing her.
Rimmer just kept his tall, lanky body in front of the Covenant, looking nervously from one to the other. Ready to die for a Covie.
―Please, guys, please, don’t kill him ," Rimmer pleaded. ―You gotta understand. He‘s cool. We‘re cool. He‘s my friend. He‘s the only one I‘ve had to talk to. The only one. He‘s cool. He‘s clean.
Please. You gotta understand. You‘ve gotta understand it isn‘t the Covenant‘s fault. Not this time.
We‘re cool, really." Rimmer looked so lonely, so lost, that it almost got to Benti.
Beside Benti, Clarence glared down the line of his rifle, finger tense on the trigger. Crap. Things could get ugly fast, even if the Covie only had a cricket bat. Something told Benti they could afford to suss out the situation before shooting. Making noise didn‘t seem like a wise move right then anyway.
Benti put her hand on Clarence‘s rifle, gave him a long look, and stood between him and Rimmer, her own gun aimed at the Elite. Gersten had slouched up against a wall and could wait until they‘d resolved this standoff.
―If that Covie makes one wrong move, looks at us the wrong way even, it‘s dead, you got me?"
Benti said it staring back at Clarence, trying to put extra weight behind the words. Let it be her decision. Clarence had made a lot of decisions on his own already today. Some of them she hadn‘t liked.
Clarence stared at her a second, and then nodded. But she couldn‘t read the intent in his eyes at all anymore, and that scared her.
Rimmer relaxed a little bit, although sweat beaded his forehead. He nodded. ―Yeah, cool, then.
He‘s okay, Henry‘s clean, he‘s cool, he‘s okay. You‘re Marines, right? You‘re going to get us out of here, right?"
―Henry?" Benti tried the name out. ― Henry." A Covie with a name other than ―bastard" or
―asshole" or ―shithead." A Covie named Henry who carried a cricket bat. That left her speechless.
The man was jumpy, twitchy, couldn‘t stay still. Benti didn‘t know if she blamed him. ―Yeah, I mean, I don‘t know his name, can‘t understand a thing he says, I just call him Henry—and he calls me Rimmer, of course, ‘cause that‘s my name, although he doesn‘t really pronounce it right, or say much of anything, ‘cause he can‘t speak our language—but he‘s cool, seriously, he‘s cool. There‘s more of you, right? You can get us back out, right?"
―Those aren‘t my orders—no, wait, you tell me, what were those things? We‘re not going
anywhere until you tell me what they are."
But Rimmer no longer cared about her answer. He was looking beyond her, over her left shoulder.
―He‘s . . . he‘s been infected."
Henry was raising his cricket bat. Rimmer looked around like he wanted a weapon too.
For a second, Benti didn‘t understand. ―Infected?"
She turned, just as Gersten lowered his hands from his face.
―I don‘t, I don‘t feel so good . . ."
A mottled patch of yellow dust encrusted his torn cheek and a stagnant green tint ran through his skin. At the base of his neck, another quivering globe of pus, one soft tendril resting tenderly on his throat.
Benti reached for a pouch at her hip, automatically going for sterilizers, knowing she had nothing powerful enough, stupid stupid stupid, should have gone for her weapon, but unable to stop the reflex.
Clarence stepped up, pressed the mouth of his rifle against Gersten‘s forehead. Gersten stared at him, marshalled his energy to say with utter shock, ―What the hell, Clarence, you—"
Clarence pulled the trigger and jumped back as Gersten went flying up against the wall. Blood sprayed out into the water, missing Clarence and smacking up against the wall with its weird black marks.
None of it hit Benti, shielded as she was by her partner.
Gersten slid down the wall. A torn cheek was the least of his worries now.
The extra blood bags Benti had brought seemed like a quaint affectation, and had for a while. There was no lack of blood here.
Clarence turned, checking her for wounds. He looked in her eyes, made her look in his eyes so she could see there was no threat there. For now. Clarence kept his rifle down and away from her.
Still, she had to say it. ―You killed Gersten." You killed Gersten real casual-like. You killed him.
He nodded, impassive.
―His dog tags—"
―Forget the dog tags. You gotta rip the bodies up," Rimmer said, like he was telling her how to heat noodle soup properly. ―That‘s not dead enough. Gotta destroy the body or they just come back."
―Don‘t be stupid." Benti couldn‘t keep her voice from cracking. ―He‘s dead. He‘s dead ." But the fact was, even if her heart couldn‘t accept it, she knew what they were now. She had an idea of just how right Rimmer could be.
―He ain‘t! He‘s infected!" Rimmer stepped forward. He‘d found a chisel. ―We gotta take him apart, he‘s going to come back!"
Benti had her rifle pointed at him before she knew it. A mistake, seeing the Elite‘s posture change, and Clarence‘s hand coming down heavy on her shoulder. Clarence had her back. Always. And he‘d just shot Gersten.
She‘d just about lost control of the situation, but then, she thought with an odd kind of relief, there was hardly anyone left under her ―command" anyway.
