Teape closed his eyes again, sorry for Jess, sorry for himself and Candyman and the poor bastard that had died inside of Max. He wished that he’d stayed in prison, that he’d never gone in the first place, that his life had been different. He’d never felt so horribly alone…
He might have stayed that way, lost in a dark internal world of despair, but that was when a drone reached out and covered his mask with a giant cool hand—and in one smooth movement, pulled it away from his face.
* * *
Ellis stared down at the dead man cradled in his arms, the wasted body, the terrified death mask he wore. What crime had he committed, what heinous act could he possibly have participated in that justified his dying moments? Looking at the lines and shadows of his face, the etched pain, Ellis knew without a doubt that there was no volunteer program for Max; Lara had been right.
I could have stopped this, he thought miserably, and looked up at the frozen Berserker suit, the yawning chamber in the back that had acted as torture chamber and cell and finally executioner for the shriveled husk in his arms. Ellis had pushed the buttons, and although he hadn’t meant to, he had acted as the final instrument of death for a man who’d had no choice.
Lara and Pop had fallen silent, probably aware that it was over; there was nothing to be done or said for the two men in the hive, no words that would erase the mistakes that had put them there. Max hadn’t fired. Max was dead, and all that was left now was to wait until Jess and Teape joined him.
Teape stammered into his ear, high and panicked. “My mask, they took it, I don’t have my mask—!”
Jess, his voice deeply sorrowful, afraid—but somehow calm. “Don’t think about it, man, don’t lose it now, try to think about somethin’ easy, ocean, trees—”
They’re going to die, Ellis thought, the bravest men I’ve ever known are going to die, all because of me.
Unless…
He swallowed and stood up, not wanting to complete the frightening thought but now unable to forget it, either. All his life he’d turned away from the fight, bullied into the role of coward by his father, blind to the fear of his fellow human beings because he hadn’t wanted it to be there. He’d martyred himself to his fears, believed that it was the only way. A lifetime of blindness, unable to see the truth— that everyone was afraid, but some people took it in, rode with it—and acted in spite of that fear.
I could be like that, he thought and walked to the massive suit, unbuckling his helmet and dropping it to the floor. Because maybe courage isn’t something you feel, it’s what you do. What you have to do when there’s no other option, when real people are going to die and there’s nobody else to do what has to be done…
“Ellis, what are you doing? You’re not thinking—”
Ellis didn’t answer Lara, didn’t want to hear her rational, sane arguments. He peered into the suit, found the sharp prongs of the interface extension set near the shoulders. Without the surgical implant, the glistening points would have to be reset; a biological interface was possible, the suit theoretically capable of creating its own connection through chemical impulses in the body…
“Ellis, wait! You’re not trained for this! It could fry your brain, are you listening? It could kill you!”
Lara sounded desperate, and Ellis was vaguely surprised at the pleasure that evoked; he was glad that she cared. She was a good person, intelligent, but he hoped that she was wrong about the effects. He wasn’t really sure about them himself. It was going to hurt, though, the sharpened metal piercing his flesh, boring into his skull—
He tried not to think about it as he adjusted the interface, pulled the spring arm out farther. He popped the circuit hatch on the lower back and turned off the IV pumps and monitors, doing what he could to alter the suit away from computer-synth implant. Ideally, he’d have hours in a lab to reshape the system—but Teape and Jess didn’t have hours, probably didn’t have minutes…
Ellis picked up the M41, looped the sling tight against the Berserker’s hip, and hoped it would hold. He lifted himself into the suit, reached back, and pulled the hatch closed. Sweat poured down his face. The interior was dark and hot; it smelled like chemicals and metal and his own fear, a strangely sweet odor like overripe fruit.
He pressed his arms to his sides, felt the controls beneath his fingers. His feet slipped into stirrups just above the knees of the body, his head just below Max’s neck.
“Ellis, no,” whispered Lara, and he heard resignation in her voice.
“Help me do this,” he whispered back, to himself as much as Lara, and leaned into the steel of the interface. The probe whirred to life—
—and he screamed as the metal plunged into his scalp and slid through bone. As he and Max became one…
22
There was a scream of pain and Max jerked, the arms of the giant suit flinging upwards.
“Ellis!” Lara shouted, and suddenly the air was full of voices.
“What’s happening—?” Teape.
“Is he in the suit?” Jess.
“Jesus Christ, can he do that?” Pop. And for once, he sounded truly in awe of another human being. Lara felt the same way, but her amazement was dampened by terror for Ellis—and a pounding, breathless anxiety for the two men in the nest.
“Quiet,” she said, and watched as Max dropped his massive arms and a gout of flame shot out of the right fist, spreading liquid fire across the floor of the deck.
At almost the same time, the left arm rotated back and launched a hail of bullets into the wall of the tropidome.
“…killing me…” Ellis’s soft voice was racked with pain.
“You have to relax,” said Lara, stunned at how even and calm she sounded. “Don’t fight the suit for control. Easy, go easy—”
Max lurched forward and almost fell, the awkward stance not wide enough to support the weight of the suit.
“Don’t try to run! Walk, just—easy, Ellis, you’re doing fine, you’re okay.” The soothing words burbled out from someplace deep inside, instinctual memories from a childhood long gone; she prayed that he could still understand.
The Max took another step, the movement huge and solid. He was in front of the door now, a span of almost two meters in the single step. Another step, and the Berserker tore through the thick steel as though it were paper. Metal shredded in a rending squeal, Max barely slowed by the trifling obstruction.
Lara tapped up the corridor view quickly and felt her throat tighten. Pulaski’s still, bloody form could be seen amidst a pile of drone bodies partway down the dark and smoking hall.
“…Candy—man,” Ellis gasped, and Lara wondered again what the interface was doing to him, how bad the damage would be.
Flickers of black movement farther down the corridor, and suddenly a trio of drones was in sight, screeching and hissing. They ran at Max, drooling, talons snapping to tear at flesh—
—and Ellis raised both arms and fired, bullets and flame stopping the attack in an instant. The three creatures shrieked as one, buried in a wave of fire as the armor-piercing rounds exploded through exoskeletal bodies.
Pop’s voice broke the air silence, his tone wary and almost respectful. “Ellis, can you—can you find Teape?”
“Find… yeah,” said Ellis, and Max took a step forward, then another.
Another drone ran out of the darkness and the Berserker didn’t stop this time, raising the pulse rifle and firing as it moved. The drone screamed, its body riddled with bullets, collapsing into an acid-splashed heap on the deck.
“Good,” Lara said, “that’s good. Increase pressure for more speed.”
“Got it,” said Ellis, and the Max picked up speed with the next step. The corridor deck crunched beneath the giant segmented feet, each footfall like metal thunder.
He rounded the bend in the hallway easily, and another handful of drones shot out of the red shadows, trumpeting shrilly. Max’s flamethrower raised up as the first of the bugs sprang—and landed on the giant arm, grinning
.
The burst of fire took out the rest of the drones, their cries of pain quickly silenced as they cooked almost instantly inside their skeletal shells. And then as easily as swatting a fly, Max smashed his arm against the wall, the perched bug’s skull bursting open to splatter acid against the paneling. The crushed drone actually stuck there; the force of the blow had driven its head into the wall.
Max started down the offshoot to the docking bay, and Lara let herself breathe deeply for the first time since Ellis had climbed into the suit.
“You got it now, Ellis,” she said, awed and suddenly hopeful. He could be at the nest inside five minutes; maybe it wasn’t too late.
* * *
Jess felt something let go inside, a pent-up rush of bittersweet relief and suppressed fear that flushed his skin and made his trapped limbs shake and sweat.
This was hands down the worst situation he’d ever been in. Even when he’d started the program, before he’d learned anything about surviving the heat, he’d never felt the danger like this. The nest was a terrible, stinking place that hurt his mind to look at, so much more horrible than he could’ve imagined now that he was a soon-to-be host body, helpless and surrounded by death. And knowing that there was no backup, no one coming—that was worse than bad. He’d only mouthed the words of encouragement to Teape, too stricken with fear and a hopeless depression to mean what he’d been saying. He hadn’t felt so lost and afraid since the first days after—after he’d been taken to jail, before he’d known that there could be another chance for someone like him…
And now Ellis is coming, he’s gonna get us OUT!
“Teape, baby, you listenin’? He’s coming! Didya hear it, that crazy kid—”
The words died in his throat as he strained to look at Teape. The point man’s pallid, wet gaze was fixed on the egg in front of him, the thick, fleshy petals settling open even as Jess faltered.
A strange and sickly-familiar smell brushed by but was gone before Jess could place it. The sense of relief was gone, too, swept away by the sight of a glistening, sticky claw that raised up from the pulsing jelly inside the egg.
Max wasn’t going to make it in time. Teape would be implanted and comatose in a minute, maybe two, and there was nothing either of them could do to keep it from happening.
“Teape,” Jess said softly. “I want you to close your eyes, okay? Max is coming, you just gotta close your eyes and he’s gonna be here—”
“No time, Jess—I’m not going to make it, they took my mask and I’m not gonna, I’m gonna die!” Teape’s gaze rolled wildly to look at Jess, burning and bright with panic.
Jess searched for the words that would make it untrue, but there weren’t any. Max wasn’t close enough.
“Okay,” said Jess, sick at heart. He met Teape’s fevered gaze and tried to be strong for him, to say what had to be said. He heard a faint click in his ear and knew that Lara must have turned off the ’com; he thanked her silently, then forced himself to speak.
“Yeah, okay. Just—look at me, Wesley, don’t look at the egg. Look at me and listen, and know what I’m sayin’ is true.”
Teape blinked rapidly, sweat dripping down his desperate face—but he didn’t look away.
“You’re not alone, Wesley. I’m not gonna let you die here alone, do you understand?”
Teape swallowed, his breathing high and fast. “But it’s going to—”
“I know what it’s going to do. It’ll be fast and—then you’ll be asleep, and I’m not going to leave you here to die, you hear me? I’m—I’ll take care of you, do you understand? I swear to you.”
Teape took a deep, shaking breath and then nodded once. “You’ll take care of it,” he whispered.
“Now you close your eyes, just—close your eyes. You’re tired, Wesley, you need to rest. You need to find your peace, deep inside, know that you’re not alone…”
Teape let his lids slide down, still trying to breathe deeply. Jess kept his voice low, gentle, soothing, and calm in spite of the terrible sadness that filled him. He looked at the egg, saw that the face-hugger had pulled itself out. Its long tail slid out behind it. He kept talking.
“…you’re not alone, I’m here, I’m gonna take care of you and you just gotta find some peace in your heart. It’s there, it’s all you need to know…”
“Peace…” whispered Teape, and he wasn’t shaking as bad. His brow had eased, the lines smoothed away.
The face-hugger coiled itself to spring, and Jess closed his own eyes, still speaking gently. “That’s right, Wesley, hold on to it, you’re not alone—”
He winced at the smack of the wet, plated body against flesh and kept talking, hoped that Teape could still hear him.
“I’m gonna take care of you,” he whispered, and when he opened his eyes a moment later, he saw that Teape was gone.
The creature was wrapped tightly around his head, the tail thickly looped around Teape’s neck. He could see one of Teape’s eyes between the hateful, gripping legs, still closed, smooth; he was gone, and he hadn’t struggled at the end.
Jesus, I’m so sorry—
“It’s over,” he said quietly, and suddenly Pop was talking at him, his voice overly loud, somehow intrusive in the soft hissing of the fetid nest.
“Hang on, ground leader! Max is on his way!”
Jess could hear Ellis now, the sounds of approaching fire. There was a terrible screech from off to his right somewhere, loud and echoing in the giant cargo hold. A dank wind washed across him as a stream of howling drones suddenly tore past him, tails whipping, the long bodies bounding past and away.
“Too late for Teape,” Jess whispered, “too damn late—”
He froze, eyes wide and fixed, his mouth dry with sudden terror.
The egg in front of him had opened.
23
Ellis felt strange and brutal, no longer afraid but not sure what had taken its place. He moved as a giant, his arms rained death, and the sensor screen in front of his eyes showed a world far away—but he was there, too, a part of this giant’s world.
The suit had carried him to the docking bay, the drones in front of him screeching, hissing, and he could feel where the men were, where Teape was. Coordinates slid across the screen, showed him how to get there, but the Max already knew. It wasn’t a feeling so much as a need, to be at the signal that called to them.
I am Brian, he thought, but that was far away, too.
The door to the bay was open and he saw through it, through the wall itself to the attackers. Dozens—
—33, first011.2away—
—of drones, etched in brilliant shades of pale green.
The screen was his view, the sensors of the Max his eyes. His thoughts, his thoughts were informed by the machine, shaping them into a calculated and precise consciousness. Just as his physical body was led now to raise his, Max’s, arms and target the enemy, his numb fingers the segue between thought and action.
The Max decided how best to eliminate the obstacles between him and Teape, so fast as to be instantaneous. Ellis responded, and the left arm raised, spat out three M38 grenades to land just inside the entry.
Even as they exploded, the pulse rifle tracked and fired at the drones that would escape the primary blast diameter. The Max stepped forward, through the open door; the sensors accounted for the movement, and the caseless rounds tore through alien bodies.
Ellis felt something like satisfaction as the sensors tracked and measured the scattering pieces of smoking flesh, fed him the information, and stored it for reference simultaneously. Satisfaction? Fulfillment; it was what he’d been designed for—
I am Brian, he thought again, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was the signal that summoned him, urging him onward.
He forced himself to speak, the words an eternity of insufficiently accurate communication.
“I’m—in the docking, bay,” said Ellis, and the sensors ignored the superfluous sounds as Max rained fire across a row of egg shell
s that littered its path.
He heard a voice and struggled for .03 of a second to register the meaning. “Ellis, you gotta hurry, it’s open, the egg’s open—!”
Jess, that’s Jess and Teape is too damn late—
There were four drones behind him and Max reversed its rifle arm and fired, three of them falling, screaming as the bullets ripped through their bodies. The fourth had already leapt at the back of Max’s head, its limbs outstretched, balancing by a frantically whipping tail.
Max’s massive arm followed the motion, the torso pivoted—
—and dealt a crushing blow to the creature’s elongated skull with the angled tip of the grenade launcher. Acid spattered and flew.
“Ellis, you have to hurry, Jess needs you,” said Lara, and he heard her, the voice soft and cool, the voice that helped him. Ellis increased the pressure of his feet, pushed down into the stirrups.
The Max moved forward, one, two, and the ship was there, a yawning green opening, turbulent with shrieking life. The M210 flamethrower ejected a blast of liquid fire over the first seven of the attackers that poured out.
Ellis stepped through the flames and into the hive, the beacon singing to his program in numbers and codes.
* * *
Lara had punched up Jess’s helmet cam and watched as the hatchling in front of him edged its sticky legs into the air, her heart pounding.
“Ellis, hurry,” she said again, and then Max was there, surrounded by fire. Jess’s trembling cam whipped around, picked up the Berserker, and then turned quickly back to the creeping face-hugger. Lara could hear his labored breathing, the fear in each panting gasp.
“Oh, Jesus, hurry—” Jess said softly, and Lara suddenly realized what she’d forgotten.
Cutout—
She kept her voice cool but spoke quickly, her stomach knotted with dread. “Ellis, disregard the targeting system, repeat, disregard the targeting system. Jess isn’t wearing a cutout, do you copy?”
There was no response, and all she could see was the face-hugger, the tail coiling beneath it—
“Shit,” whispered Jess, and the monster leapt, its wet legs spread wide—
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