Smith slumped on a data bank, running his hand over it almost sadly, the smashed casing and shattered circuits.

―I told you, research and development," Smith said, with a touch of scorn. ―Like ONI‘s always done. You should be thanking me. We came up with some interesting data that will help us

maximize the damage inflicted by our weapons on the Covenant. They‘ve developed a natural

resistance to the radiation put out by their plasma weapons—a forced evolution, from the look of it.

With further research, we‘ll be able to use it against them, and to help us treat plasma burns, too."

Mahmoud listened to this answer with what seemed to Lopez like derision. They all knew how long it took for any ―development" to reach the people on the ground. ―Yeah. Right. What about your

‗Flood‘?"

The glimmer of pride Smith had displayed, listing his accomplishments, vanished. ―We could have solved one of the greatest threats to the human species since the Covenant."

Mahmoud, disbelieving. ― ‗Since the Covenant‘? Why didn‘t you just focus on them, sir? They‘re kicking our asses all over the galaxy."

Smith smiled, or tried to, swollen face barely moving. ―The Flood is pure of intent. Relentless.

Almost primordial. And it is a virus, spreads as fast as one. I had to study it. We had to study it. So we used Covenant."

―You didn‘t have to do anything," Mahmoud said. ―If the Covenant knew we were taking prisoners, can you imagine—"

Lopez noticed the death stare Smith gave Mahmoud.

Smith still wasn‘t telling the truth, but he wasn‘t lying either. Misdirection, misinformation, she didn‘t trust any of it. She stepped up to the smashed viewing pane of a small cell. Human skin and flesh caught on the jagged glass.

―Keep talking," she said, as she shone her flashlight inside. Stared at a leg in the small cell.

Forgotten, like it was a dog‘s chew toy. Human. A slipper had ended up against the opposite wall.

Around the ankle and shin the now familiar orange fabric, half an ID number visible through the gore.

―We were looking for weaknesses, a cure, an antibody, anything. We only had one infected

Covenant, but we needed to see how it worked, how it spread. Just . . . it‘s strong. So strong." He trailed off. Suddenly tired, defeated by something larger than any of them. And yet, was that the barest hint of respect for the Flood creeping into his tone?

―You were testing on prisoners."

―It may be abhorrent to you," Smith said, ―but such measures will be what wins us the war. Don‘t tell me you‘re getting soft for an alien race now, Sergeant."

No. She had no problem with anyone torturing Covenant. That wasn‘t the point.

―We face extinction," he said, almost like a politician. ―We have to win this war. No matter what the cost."

No matter what the cost.

―You weren‘t trying to cure Covies of your Flood," she said, unable to look at him. ―This is a prison ship. A civilian prison ship. You were testing on prisoners ."

Something in her tone must have let him know exactly what she meant. Written in the set of her shoulders, the cords standing out on her jaw.

Smith gave Lopez the half-embarrassed cringe-grin people with no integrity gave you when you caught them doing something wrong and they weren‘t really sorry. But wanted to pretend they were.

―It‘s a big, bad universe, Sergeant. Covenant aren‘t the worst of it."

Lopez raised her head, shifting her balance to her heel.

―You‘ve done what you thought was necessary," Smith said. ―And so have I."

God, he was fast. Faster than she would‘ve thought. Missed it in the pat down? Hidden in the lab?

A knife in his hand, and Mahmoud‘s throat slit, his rifle sliding naturally into Smith‘s hands, he got a burst off just as Lopez raised her weapon. She grunted with the impact as the bullets smacked into the armor on her left side. Went down on one knee. Could feel the bruising. Could feel she‘d live. Another scar .

Was already reaching for Mahmoud, even though it was too late for him. There was a curve of new blood spattered on the floor, as emphatic as a scimitar.

By then, Smith was through the hatch, sealing it behind him.

>Benti 1530 hours

―Where are we?" Benti asked Rimmer.

―Guard‘s tea room. God‘s waiting room?" He peeked up over the window. ―Didn‘t really get a tour of the ship, you know."

They‘d been lucky, nothing had been on the other side of the ladder. Without the schematic Orlav had carried, they were running blind, but the engine room was back here somewhere. They‘d passed one very helpful sign, directing them on their way—the only time she‘d felt like they were

someplace even halfway civilized.

She wasn‘t sure how she was going to explain Henry to the sarge when they met up. Henry kept close to Rimmer, for all the good it did the Covenant. Rimmer kept looking around and starting at shadows.

―You said ‗Flood,‘ before. What did you mean?"

Rimmer pitched his voice low. Henry craned to listen, even if he couldn‘t understand. ―Some uniform came on board. He was with ONI. After that, we weren‘t allowed out of our cells. Sponge baths, if we were lucky. I think they brought the Covies on board then. We could hear them talking.

Could smell them, too. Sorry, Henry." He gave the Elite an apologetic pat on the arm, which seemed to surprise the alien. ―No one told us anything. Not even the guards knew what was going on. We made some slipspace jump, to here. Wherever here is. Could hear them bringing stuff on board all the time, and tossing it back out, like they were looking for something. Guess they found it. Started taking people, you know. And Covies. They didn‘t seem to care if we saw the Covies, then." He stopped. ―Think they figured we weren‘t going anywhere, and it didn‘t matter what we knew." He kept patting Henry‘s arm. In his words, in the flat lack of emotion in his voice, there was an absence of dread that was louder than anything he could have screamed. And he kept patting Henry‘s arm like he‘d developed a nervous tic.

―The air con on this ship, you know how it is. It carries the noise funny. We heard things. No one they took ever came back. None of them. "

Something small and hard crystallized in Benti‘s mind. ―Nothing good ever comes from ONI," she said low, with vehemence that surprised even her.

Clarence was paying attention, she noticed, but trying hard to act like he wasn‘t. What the heck is that about?

―There was a guard, fat asshole called Murray; he found out about the Flood. Some new biological weapon, I dunno, something. He said, he said," a tremor entered his voice, ―he said they were studying it. Here. With us." He stopped moving, hand not quite on Henry‘s arm.

Henry‘s head drooped, and Rimmer patted him again. Henry flinched.

Rimmer took his hand away, embarrassed. ―Sorry," he mumbled.

―——," Henry said, with poor grace, and looked at Benti expectantly.

That brought Benti up short. She stared at the four jaws of his mouth, curled meek against his face now, little teeth fitting into the grooves of his gums. She‘d never had the opportunity to watch a Covenant Elite speak before. It was one of the grossest things she had ever seen, and she‘d seen plenty of gross. She could still see down his throat. It wasn‘t pretty, either.

Clarence shifted slightly, bemused, and raised an eyebrow at her. She raised both eyebrows

helplessly, looked at Rimmer.

―Um. What did he just say?"

Rimmer stared back at them like they were asking the impossible. ―How should I know? But

maybe he‘s trying to tell his side of the story. All that black stuff on the walls of the room you found us in? That was him writing down words. I couldn‘t read any of it."

Henry slumped, clearly fed up, the tip of his cricket bat thumping into the floor, and muttered something that didn‘t require translation.

Rimmer gave Henry a pointed look that said don’t interrupt again , and continued: ―Something happened, I don‘t know, I think the Covies made a break for it or something. And in all the chaos, I guess . . . the Flood got out. Covies let some of us out, too, which might surprise you but by then we‘d all been through the same stuff. All got the same fate on this ship. ‘Course, it didn‘t help at first, because the guards didn‘t like it, and they started on us, all of us prisoners, and some of the Covies didn‘t like that and started on anything human. But me and Henry, we‘re cool. We knew.

Bigger problems on board."

―And you‘ve been hiding ever since."

―A day, I think. Maybe two. You lose track of time real fast around here."

―So fast?"

Rimmer nodded. ―We gotta get off this ship. Soon, you know?"

Benti couldn‘t disagree. She also couldn‘t tell him Henry would be shot on sight once they reached the hangar, that she‘d do it herself if she had to. Because the sarge wasn‘t going to like this, not at all. But Henry would be useful getting back to the Pelican, even if only to provide another target for the Flood. Besides, Clarence, hanging back, always had his rifle pointed vaguely in Henry‘s direction.

―Do you know where this leads?" She pointed out the door. Henry shivered faintly.

―Yeah," Rimmer said. ―D cell block. I think the engines are behind them. We should . . . we should find a different way."

―Why?"

―That‘s where they took all the dead. That‘d be like going into an angry beehive right about now."

>Lopez 1537 hours

Lopez wasn‘t sure, but she thought Mahmoud might‘ve mumbled ― . . . and then comes ice cream"

as he‘d bled out onto the floor in her arms, his blood mingling with all the rest. His hand had been warm, just like John Doe‘s had been, and she‘d been just about as much help.

Another bead down. It wore on her, and never stopped wearing. But at least she could take his dog tags. Tell everyone back on the ship how well he‘d served. They were in her pocket along with Smith‘s security pass.

―That‘s on me, not you guys," she‘d said as Singh and MacCraw had wordlessly bandaged her up, with a kind of care she guessed meant respect. Even standoffish Percy helped.

Now she hardly even felt it, except as a sting if she bent or turned suddenly. Just the four of them now, heading toward the bridge down the longest corridor in the world. The only point of interest, an intersection about thirty-five meters down. Didn‘t like turning corners any more. Didn‘t like it one bit.

Trying to give up on the weird taste in her mouth from losing Smith, from letting him take

Mahmoud out. She could see him, in her mind‘s eye, popping out of some secret door somewhere, trying to make his way by secret spook passages and guile, to the Pelican. No, he wouldn‘t make it.

Wouldn‘t last long on his own. Even gladder now that she‘d beaten him up. A small victory, but still. He‘d feel it for the rest of his short life. He‘d remember her.

The corridor was so long that Percy had been tossing flares down toward the end of it like he was playing in some weird shuffleboard tournament. Reached farther than their flashlights. Flares they had plenty of, bullets not so much any more. They‘d taken a break to wolf down some MREs, but still she was hungry.

MacCraw‘d acquitted himself well, too, despite his bitching. When they‘d made it back to the Red Horse , she‘d tell Foucault that. He scooped up the flares they reached, squinting and handing them back to Percy to throw again. Wished they could do the same with bullets.

Singh came to a sudden halt.

―Talk to me," Lopez said.

―I heard something."

Lopez studied him a moment. Singh was holding it together. Barely. Don’t get jumpy.

―Flare, Percy."

He obliged. Flung it as far as he could, until it came to a hissing stop at the far edge of their vision.

Right at the feet of a silhouette, the figure of a Marine.

MacCraw frowned. Singh held a hand up to his eyes to shield them from the glare.

The figure came out of the flaming mandala of the flare, roughly fifty meters away.

―Is that . . . ?" MacCraw began and then trailed off. ―That can‘t be . . ."

―It‘s Ayad," Singh said. ―It‘s definitely Ayad."

Lopez could see him clearly now, running toward them. Loping almost. Trying to make a sound in the back of his throat, but it was coming out like thnnnnnn or thmmmmmm . Should‘ve been a hum, more like a moan. Holding out a hand as if in greeting. A huge smile on his face.

MacCraw let out a whoop. ―Ayad!"

―It‘s not Ayad," Lopez warned.

―What do you mean it‘s not Ayad?" Singh said. ―Of course it is. It‘s Ayad."

Ayad hadn‘t had a smile that went from ear to ear. Or something growing out of the back of his head. Ayad hadn‘t had an extra arm with a claw, held a little back behind him, as if to disguise it.

Ayad hadn‘t been preceded by a smell that made Lopez‘s eyes water.

But MacCraw kept babbling on, like he didn‘t want to believe it, and Singh just fed into that, almost manic. Percy backed up until he was level with her, would‘ve slipped back farther if she‘d let him.

This wasn‘t the way Lopez wanted it to end.

When Ayad was about forty meters away, she put a bullet through his left shoulder. It knocked him off his feet. Which brought MacCraw and Singh out of their trance or whatever the hell it had been.

A lot harder for them not to see the problem.

Ayad rose with a howl, and kept coming, running now on all fours like something born to it, with MacCraw babbling in a different way now.

―Don‘t fire until he‘s closer," Lopez ordered. ―Right after he‘s cleared that intersection."

Ayad reached the intersection—and something with all the speed and weight of a freight train smashed into him and splattered him up against the opposite wall. Ayad fell as the creature howled at him, then picked him up and held him with one monstrous hand out in front, turning toward them.

The other arm weighed down with what could almost have been antlers coming out of its palm.

The suddenness of the act, the viciousness of it, shocked Lopez. Threw her for a second. Just a second.

―That‘s an Elite, " Percy said. ―Look at the size of it!"

Lopez had never seen one bigger, either. Its head almost bumped against the ceiling. As it came toward them down the corridor, she could see the striations of infection running up and down its legs, the suggestion of an outline on the Elite‘s chest of the same fungal-jellyfish thing that‘d taken Rakesh.

The infected Elite turned this way and that, sniffing, as it ran. Some perversion of a howl tore up through the torso. Out through what was left of the mouth. One of the jaw hinges hung, snapped and loose. A single tendon kept it attached.

―We‘re not outrunning that ," Lopez said calmly. ―Singh, kneel and go low, for the legs. MacCraw, keep your cool and aim for Ayad. Make it drop Ayad before it gets to us. Percy, heart. I‘ll go for the head. Now . . . fire!"

It lost its Ayad shield first, dropped it. MacCraw made a lucky shot and hit the muscle and bone in its wrist. It stumbled as the bullets hit it, each one more precious than the last. Slamming into its body over and over again. It might be Elite, but it didn‘t bleed. A sigh of something green and dandelion-seedlike puffed out from the wounds opening on its skin. Strangely beautiful, those wounds, in the hissing light of the flares. Wounds that should‘ve stopped and dropped it, but it kept coming. Kept howling.

Staggered onward on tottering balance, pressing against the storm of bullets as if they were toxic raindrops. Until, finally, Lopez managed to take out its knees.

It crashed down, not seven meters from them.

But it didn‘t stop. Didn‘t even pause, clawing and crawling its way across the floor, on its belly, a smear of dark green behind it.

No one hesitated. No one waited for another order.

When it was done, the corridor reeked of gunsmoke, the smell acrid in their mouths and the backs of their throats. Lopez‘s eyes stung, unable to handle the swamp-gas smell of the dead Elite.

Lopez thought of the bodies in the cupboard. Thought of the Elite stomping on Rabbit‘s chest, on the infection form . She walked up to it, this thing, and pressed the muzzle of her rifle into the suggestion of a giant angry goiter clinging to its chest. Let off another quick burst. Realized she‘d forgotten something, something important.

Ayad rose up from the darkness beside Singh.

Singh hadn‘t the reflexes, hadn‘t the training. Enough time for the technician‘s face to change.

Knowing. Not wanting to know. Then he was smashed into the far wall with one terrifying blow, so hard his skull shattered in the helmet, face flattened to a pulp as he dropped.

Percy, cursing, a burst from his rifle going wide, caught by the backswing. Lopez heard his neck crack. Turned too fast. Sudden pain where Smith had shot her.

And MacCraw, like he‘d done it a million times, brought his rifle up and shot what was Ayad right through the head.

The flare light painted everything red and gold, made beautiful what should‘ve been ghastly.

MacCraw stood there, staring at that tableau like a painter who didn‘t know what to make of the paints on his canvas.

Lopez put a hand on MacCraw‘s shoulder, her one remaining bead. That shoulder heaved under her touch, and then steadied.

―Where to, Sarge?" MacCraw asked in an empty voice.

Lopez gave him a smile, knowing it was grim and making it brief. ―Objective hasn‘t changed, kid,"

and as she said it, it became true. They were Marines. The job kept getting harder, but they got the job done, and that meant they had to keep getting better. They‘d faced the worst and best the Covenant could throw at them, and now the worst the universe could throw at them, and survived treachery by their own kind. And they were still walking. Still breathing. That was a hell of a thing.

A hell of a thing.

>Benti 1544 hours

Rimmer told them Henry had found the cricket bat in the guard‘s locker room. Who knew when the guards had the chance to play cricket, or where, but the Elite was a natural with it. A rabid white slug thing had dropped from one of the overhead lights, moving too fast for any of them to shoot, and he‘d splatted it against the far wall with one easy swing.

Clarence examined the green goop falling in clumps and nodded his approval. Yet Benti knew

Clarence could turn around and kill Henry in an instant.

Benti hadn‘t been able to speak to him since Gersten‘s death. She‘d found it hard to even

acknowledge his presence. The fact was, it had cost him nothing to pull the trigger. That was what bothered her the most.

Beneath that, another, deeper, layer of unease.

He‘d seemed to know. Before Rimmer had said anything about infections and coming back. How did he know?

Rimmer: ―Henry was the one who sprung me out. There was a . . . one of the guards, she‘d been, she wasn‘t, but he took her out. Saved me. He‘s a good guy, really." Rimmer couldn‘t stop talking, which set Benti‘s teeth on edge—thought maybe he‘d been imprisoned because he‘d talked someone to death. He couldn‘t stop touching Henry either, like a frightened puppy, and she was sure she wasn‘t imagining the distaste on the Elite‘s face at that.

A stairwell branched in the hallway. She didn‘t mind at all the sudden convenience of a sign pointing up that indicated engine room access. She crept up, peeking over the lip of the landing, the others crowding at her back.

―They learn," Rimmer whispered. ―They take what you know and learn."

Something small and pale leapt out of the darkness. She threw herself back only to stop flat against Henry, who pulled her aside with one arm, the other swinging that cricket bat and hitting another ball sac down the length of the hall.

Benti scrambled up, away from the Covenant, with undue haste. He looked at her, lower jaw hinges flexing subtly. You could tell a lot from someone‘s eyes. Had to remind herself he wasn‘t a

―someone." She could still feel the impression of his hand—not human, not at all human—on her shoulder, knew the hair on the back of her neck was up, and it took all her willpower not to pump his gut full of hot lead.