Seven people were crowded on the small metal platform outside the warehouse’s emergency exit. Since Tate was too injured to join them, Vas had to pick the lock. Subtlety wasn’t a priority this time, but when they had planned the assault back at the safe house, Vas had pointed out that picking the lock would take as much time as cutting it out of the door and lockpicks were lighter than torches and steel-sheers.

Fenn had grudgingly conceded the fact.

Gloria, who was watching Adan pick the lock, moved closer to the sheriff. “Are you disappointed, Jun Fenn?”

“What would make you ask that, Gloria?”

“A super nova went cold with shock when it heard you ask Captain Vas if he was sure.”

Dr. Davis had been lingering toward the back of the group, but now he sidled closer. He’d also wondered at the sheriff’s display of reluctance and wanted to hear the man’s answer.

Gloria went on, “Vas’s reasoning was the soundest I’d ever heard. What made you hesitate?”

“I felt that if I was going to be sacrificing my entire career, flaming torches would have been more appropriate. I was hoping for absolute destruction and mayhem. Who wants to be kicked out over lockpicks?”

Eve stifled a giggle.

“We’ve got the destruction part taken care of, Sheriff.” This was said by the man Fenn referred to “Henchman” to Gloria’s dismay and the man’s secret delight.

Henchman was still carrying his bomb, despite the weight. He seemed cheerful.

Eve, who was standing next to him, edged away, but stopped when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

It was the biologist. The one Tate had worked for—Jane. Wyss didn’t bother trying to remember the woman’s last name.

“It’s all right,” Dr. Jane said. “They’re safe.”

“They’re bombs, Doctor,” Vas said without looking up from the lock.

“They’re as safe as bombs can be. Reyer’s good at what she does.”

Adan smiled. If the lock had eyes, it would have seen it. No one else did.

“Did we need all five?” Turay asked.

There was a noticeable lack of response from anyone in the group.

Jane had insisted on a full-sized bomb being reserved for the pool itself, but Reyer had assured them that, aside from the pool, one would be enough to kill almost every human-xeno in the building. Two would guarantee it. They had still brought five.

Turay had seen Tennama’s little claw demonstration back at the hideout, but that was all. Those that had seen more preferred the extra fire power. Five would be enough. Hopefully.

How much commercial grade high explosives did it take to blow away your fear?

There was a loud click, then Vas stood up with a sigh. He grabbed the door handle. “Fenn?”

The sheriff drew his e-pistol and nodded.

When Vas opened the door, Jun disappeared into the darkness but returned a few seconds later.

“It’s clear.”

Adan hefted his bomb. “Everyone inside.”

Once the group was gathered in the dark office, Fenn had them do a weapons check. Only Dr. Davis had refused a gun. The sheriff suspected it was because it offended the doctor to hold a weapon, but Nathaniel had argued that he could hardly help carry a bomb, use a cane, and wield a gun unless he’d learned to shoot it with his teeth.

When Eve heard that, she’d taken another pistol on his behalf. Davis had scowled at her.

As the rest finished checking their e-weapons’ power sources, Dr. Jane went to each person in turn and smeared a liquid on their pulse points. Turay raised one of her elegant eyebrows and put her wrist to her nose.

“I don’t think much of your perfume, Doctor.”

Jane’s straight smile twitched up on one edge. “The people below will love it.”

When the biologist got to Vas, he muttered, “Are you sure this will work?”

“It should. Tennama said I smelled like a mid-level xeno. If there’s a little more or a little less, we’ll still blend in.” Jane’s lips disappeared when she briefly pressed them together. “But that depends on who’s downstairs, Vas. We can fool their senses. We can’t fool their brains.”

Vas checked his dao sword and swung the e-rifle over his shoulder. “If people have been disappearing, it wasn’t enough to advance them all.”

“We still need to be careful.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“You don’t have to tell me twice. You might need to tell Hench, over there.” Vas turned to the sheriff and nodded.

Fenn raised his phone to his ear. “Mr. Ciro?”

[https://i.imgur.com/6iM8gcI.png]

Ciro smiled at the sound of powerless frustration being pounded out on the steel door behind him.

“You guys are as dumb as bricks,” Caffron called through the door.

And if a henchman says you’re dumb, well, don’t bother digging for your IQ score, Ciro thought.

But that wasn’t really fair, and he knew it. Caffron wasn’t stupid. But his enjoyment mindless simplicity gave the impression he was.

And the security personnel weren’t brainless either. Who expects dinner to be an ambush?

Caffron had been honest enough to refuse to go into the warehouse based on the fact “those claws are creepy,” so he’d been assigned to help Ciro break into Ashtell’s security room. His job was to be the muscle that would smack people around. That would free up Ciro to focus on other things.

Ciro liked Caffron. He did a fine job of smacking people around. The man was as strong as Adan and much less bossy. Ciro made a mental note to ask Gloria how you went about getting a henchman.

“Mr. Ciro?”

Ciro put the headset over his ears and clicked on the microphone. “Good evening, Sheriff! This channel is secure, open, and reserved for our communication. How can I help you?”

“Did you get a chance to double-check the records?”

“I did! Do you have any idea how much easier it is to get to the records when you’re actually in the room? This is my favorite kind of hacking.”

“And, Mr. Ciro?”

“There’s been some corporate shuffling, but nothing stands out. I’ve been digging as much as possible, but I don’t know if anything’s been transferred out of the warehouse. It was given a rather suspicious designation over three years ago, and it still has that designation.”

“What kind of suspicious designation?”

“’The kind that’s reserved for illegal activities.”

Ciro heard the sheriff sigh.

“Do you want me to collect some evidence while I’m here?”

“Please, Mr. Ciro. It’ll be nice to say ‘I told you so’ when they hang me.”

“Leave your phone on as you go. Put it on speaker. I should be able to hear you the whole time and maybe the people closest to you. It could be useful.”

“Understood.”

When Ciro felt Caffron step up behind his chair, he realized he wasn’t the only person feeling nervous.

“And, Sheriff, if you could please—if it doesn’t endanger the mission—if you could please give a running commentary.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Ciro heard his brother’s voice: “All right. Now’s the time.”

On the computer, Ciro tried to open up the warehouse’s control file. “It’s locked,” he mumbled.

“Locked?” Fenn said.

“Apparently, this designation is supposed to mean that not even security can touch it without permission.”

Fenn’s voice dimmed, as if he’d moved his head away from the phone. “What do we do now?”

Ciro heard his brother say, “Fenn, you did hear him say ‘supposed to,’ right?”

Ciro stopped tapping on the input pad and grinned. “We’re in.” His smile wavered. “Are you sure about this, Adan?”

“Make sure you cut the alarm first.”

[https://i.imgur.com/6iM8gcI.png]

In the dark office on the second floor of the warehouse, every person held their breath, but no alarm woke up to scream at them. There was the distant sound of sliding doors, the gentle creak of metal, then, all at once, a soft clang. Henchman was holding the door to the outside open, making sure their escape wasn’t cut off.

He came back inside and said, “They’re down.”

The containment doors were required to be strong enough to withstand damage from various industrial accidents, which meant they would also be strong enough to hold back some of the explosion. Since they were covering all the doors and windows except the emergency exit, that also meant that everyone inside was now, to some degree, trapped, and there weren’t enough people to leave someone on guard.

An unbidden thought wormed into Vas’s head. I’m in a cave with only one opening, and I’m planting bombs.

As he closed his eyes to banish the thought, he couldn’t help feeling glad Alix wasn’t there.

He lifted his explosive and balanced it on his shoulder. They were damn heavy. “We’re going down now,” he said. “Talk as little as possible and keep calm. Don’t draw your weapon unless you’re already being attacked, and know that the moment you do, you’ll have to take them all on.”

“If they’re even there,” Jane muttered.

“Thank you, Doctor, for your optimistic contribution. If anything goes wrong, this is the only door out. Henchman, Fenn, and I will go first. The teams of two will follow. We place them. We leave. It’s that simple.”

The starlight streaming through the open door gave Eve a glimpse of his e-rifle. She touched the butt of one of her own weapons. It seemed like “simple” was something the captain hoped for, but he didn’t make bets on.

Henchman and Fenn picked up their bombs and followed Vas to the door.

Gloria and Jane shared their load between them.

“Ready, Doctor?” Eve muttered.

Nathaniel ground his cane into the floor so it wouldn’t slip, then reached down to take the explosive’s handle.

“What are you doing here, Miss Wyss?” he asked.

“Saving the galaxy.”

Davis glanced over and saw her smile.

“And why are you here, Doctor Davis?”

“At the moment, that idiotic deputy is more worthless than I am.”

The two of them hoisted the bomb together and slowly made their way to the door.

The xenos were still there, gathered in loose groups, silent and staring at nothing.

Vas waited until everyone had made it down the stairs. Then he used hand motions to direct them to their spots. Gloria and Jane broke away, heading toward the room with the pool. Wyss and Davis would have the closest section. He, the henchman, and Fenn made their way into the crowd.

Vas was glad he had perched the bomb on his shoulder. He could feel his hands growing slick with sweat. It wouldn’t explode if it was dropped, but the noise…

The thought of them turning to look at him made him feel as if a frozen belt was tightening around his chest.

For now, the xenos ignored him, but the strain only increased with each step. He could hear his enemies breathing all around him. Occasionally, he brushed shoulders with them, but still, he had to walk deeper into the crowd.

His destination was the middle of the far quarter. When he estimated he was roughly there, he lowered the bomb to the floor. As he was straightening up, for a fraction of a second, his eyes locked with a xeno’s eyes.

It had been watching him.

Vas stopped, his hand still on the handle of the bomb. When his heart resumed beating, it seemed to pound in his ears. He forced himself to breathe. Calmer now, he finished standing. His voice rang through the whole room.

“How many of you are there?”

There! He hadn’t been imagining it. Other xenos had turned toward the noise in a slow, unconscious gyration, but the eyes of the xeno he was watching had looked toward him, then away.

Vas stared at the man to make sure he wouldn’t lose him in the crowd. “How many—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the xeno lunged.

The rifle strap ripped along Adan’s neck as he pulled his gun around and slammed the butt across the xeno’s face, halting his rush. Vas kicked him in the chest, put the rifle to his shoulder, and fired.