Logus felt like his neck still wasn’t quite right.

He was lucky, really, that he got to be in one of the many safety bunkers on the ship, rather than having to be out there. And lucky that Dr. Y had given him something for the pain, after telling him to avoid strenuous neck activity and to try and sit. But he hadn’t told him the nature of his injury, and that concerned him.

Kell had saved his life, and he wasn’t going to complain about that, but the acceleration he’d experienced when the being grabbed and pulled him had been comparable to a low-altitude flying accident. He was, if he was being honest, lucky it hadn’t killed him.

He wondered if Kell had known that. He felt very confident that the being had killed enough over its long life to know just the amount of force it could apply without killing a man.

But he hadn’t helped Decinus. Perhaps he’d calculated he couldn’t have pulled him over without killing him. Or perhaps he just hadn’t cared.

Because it certainly seemed Kell had cared very little about the man’s life. So perhaps, he reasoned, the Shoggoth simply had something of an attachment to him and Brooks – and the latter more strongly, given that Kell mostly avoided him.

Maybe their psychologies were understandable, with enough observation, he thought. It was a naive thought, he knew, even as he had it – but this was how he dealt with stress.

The sounds of another impact made some of the other people sheltering in the bunker scream. For a ship the size of a Craton, to feel such an impact meant it had to be close – or very, very large.

“It’s all right, it’s all right,” Zeela Cann said loudly. “Just a thump – if it were something bad the bunker would get ejected, and that certainly hasn’t happened.”

Her words seemed to have some effect, with a few people nodding, seeing the logic in them.

Logus was glad that he was not the only person of rank in here. Every bunker on the ship had several designated Morale Officers, working to keep hope up and panic down. He would have been one, but a backup had had to take his spot in another bunker, since this was the closest one to him when the alarm went out. And there was no way in hell anyone wanted to be caught outside if something serious happened to the ship – or a firefight got near.

He shuddered, thinking of the injuries he’d seen in medical school of people caught in espatier fights. Shredded was the word he’d use – the tiny, flying pieces of shattered bullets could be stopped by good armor, but against clothing and skin? It wasn’t pretty.

He shuddered, and another pain wracked him. It was good he wasn’t being morale officer, he didn’t think he could possibly have been convincing right now . . .

He wished his neck would stop hurting.

The dull ache in it felt unlike any injury he’d had before. On some level, he had a feeling it was serious.

He’d never been seriously injured before. Never even had surgery, beyond the basic implants and such that everyone got.

Next to him, Elliot, Iago Caraval’s son, huddled closer. No one in here was fully panicked yet, and he certainly hoped it didn’t happen. These bunkers were fully capable of tranquilizing them all if emotions got out of hand . . .

It helped, though, that they had one of the Space Hounds in here. The dog was moving between individuals who seemed most frightened, and would sit stoically beside them. People hugged or petted it, and it helped. And the Station Terrier, Angel, was snuggled in Elliot’s arms.

“Do you think my dad is okay?” Elliot asked him, petting the dog, who seemed almost to be falling asleep.

“I think he is,” he told the boy. “He’s not supposed to be anywhere near the action, you know. And he’s got a lot of experience. I’m sure he’s out there saving lives right now.”

The boy nodded, and then clammed up, just looking down at Angel.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Elliot had said very little. He was the only child in this bunker – or on the ship right now.

He shouldn’t be here. Iago should have left him in the Sol System, and the question of just why he hadn’t was burning in his mind.

Something was wrong there.

The ship shuddered again, and he looked up. Elliot looked up with him, but there was a peculiar lack of fear in him that was disturbing. Like the boy was already past that. Even his earlier question had been . . . monotone.

“Dr. Logus,” he heard Zeela Cann call.

He looked up, and saw the woman was beckoning him over.

“I’ll be right back,” he told Elliot.

The boy nodded flatly.

“What is it?” he asked Cann as he got closer. The Space Hound also came over, listening.

“Apollonia Nor is missing,” she told him without preamble. “She was a volunteer, but never showed up to her assigned team. She still hasn’t reported in to them, and left her tablet in a bunker, but hasn’t been located in any other since, or at a medical center. Without her having her tablet on her, we cannot track her.”That was serious, and his mind raced to find a proper response.

“Is anyone else unaccounted for?” he asked.

Cann pursed her lips. “Ambassador Kell disappeared not long after Apollonia did.”

Another one, just as important, if not more so. Had someone else been dispatched to find him? Though if the Shoggoth did not want to be found, he had a feeling that no one would ever find him. They would have to focus on who they potentially could locate.

“Try dispatching drones to some of the likely places she would go,” Logus suggested.

“I tried that,” Zeela replied. “But right now, I’m not exactly swimming in resources, and she’s been here such a short time, with no system history, that nothing panned out. Literally just stabs in the dark.”

“Help search?” the Space Hound, Apollo, asked.

“No, you had best stay here, you sweet boy,” Zeela told the hound, forcing a smile. The dog cocked its head to the side, surprised. “Unless you know her scent?” she asked.

“No,” the hound replied.

Logus wracked his mind. “The ship should still be able to track her by doors opening, or air movement-“

“In a battle, Dr. Logus, those systems are not reliable,” Zeela said, her words alarmingly calm and knowing. “All I can tell you for sure is that it does not seem that any of the movement out there is her. If she is out there, she is in an area that is blacked out, outside a bunker. Or . . . she is not moving.”

He realized just what Zeela was getting at.

And he should have realized it sooner.

This bunker had two officers in it, and they needed to find Apollonia. She was more important than the two of them combined. And he – at least theoretically – might have better odds of figuring out where she might have gone, if she was hiding.

Zeela didn’t want to have to give him the order, Logus thought. And he wouldn’t make her.

“I’ll go search for her,” he said.

He saw the regret etched onto her face, how much she hated putting him into this position.

“And I’ll sit with Elliot,” she said gently.

Taking a deep breath, Logus moved to the door, overriding it.

“Don’t worry everyone,” he said, as eyes went upon him. “Just going for a bit of a stroll.”

----------------------------------------

Iago knew this was not going to go well.

The Hev assault team were not well-trained or equipped, but a bullet was a bullet, and he and the others were not outfitted with the highest-end combat gear.

There were only four left with Iago, and he didn’t know the whereabouts of the rest of his squad.

The Hev pod had smashed through at the Equator ring, and he and his team had taken up defensive positions after arming themselves. He was up high, to give flanking fire on the Hev as they advanced on the ambush spot that the others had set up down below.

When the pod door had burst open, it had been with a rush of hundreds of drones.

“EMs out!” he called. More drones themselves than grenades, they’d suicided themselves at the burgeoning swarm, frying the drones’ brains in high numbers with great pulses of radio energy, burning themselves out in the process.

But the Hev assault drones were meant to overcome such defenses.

The Hev poured fire towards Iago’s team’s Guardian drones, overwhelming them. Heffo took a dozen rounds that punched through her armor at extreme close range and went down. Her cover hadn’t even slowed the rounds.

Iago couldn’t spare her a look, and continued to fire.

The Hev had overwhelming firepower, all their defenses pushed towards the front – but none of that mattered.

He had a mag rifle.

“CHARGING,” his system said. The charge bar filled, and he let a round rip.

The gun kicked like a destrier, and the shot tore through the Hev’s armor like it was made of paper and kept on. It pierced through another behind him, taking his leg clean off, before hitting the floor plate and punching through that.

Kynz fell down below, half his head gone. It was only he and Kessissiin left, and the Dessei was alone at their barricade.

He also had a mag rifle; his fired, and another two Hev dropped. They were lining up like bowling pins.

One took cover, throwing himself around the corner, but Iago’s tracking system still could project his position.

A wall wasn’t a defense.

It ripped through it, and then the Hev behind.

The rest pressed forward, but as his team had been wiped, it left more drones to guard the two of them. The Hev drones were falling to counter-fire, and he and Kessissin were going to take them all down.

His system warned him suddenly; toxic compounds in the air.

“What the fuck,” he muttered, scanning the data. The source . . .

Were the bodies of the Hev. His system highlighted it, and he called to Kessissiin.

“Pull back!” he cried. “Their bodies are rigged!”

He saw the eyes widen on the Dessei, and he began a retreat, Iago covering him, peppering the Hev with half-charged shots that might dent armor but not pierce it. The Hev realized this and advanced, throwing grenades up at him. One was intercepted and shot down by his drones, but his guardians were running out of ammunition themselves. He turned to run, and saw that the grenade had landed between him and the path Kessissiin had taken.

He ripped the battery pack from his rifle, using his system to deactivate all its safeties, and hurled it at the Hev. With as much energy as they packed into the things to power the mag rifles, it would make enough of a-

BOOM.

He threw himself through a door to one of the second-floor shops as one of the explosives – his or theirs – went off.

The door slammed shut behind him, a heavy blast door closing over it, and he lay on the floor a moment, panting.

“This is . . . Iago Caraval,” he said through his radio. “The Hev boarders are carrying chemical and possibly biological weapons on their person that are being released upon death. If you experience damage to your suits, get the hell away from them!”

He didn’t know if the Hev would even bother trying to come for him, but if they did it would take them precious time to break through the heavy door.

Getting up, he moved towards the other side of the room, trying to wrap his mind around his location. He had to find a way out, find the rest of his team and-

The blast door behind him exploded.