No, he’d been careful, the Company had it all locked down—
—but there are enemies within.
Someone like Julia Russ, maybe. Or any one of a dozen competitors he could think of, desperate for that spot on the Board. Weyland/Yutani wanted results, they didn’t necessarily care who handed them in.
Briggs turned, leaning back into the stale shuttle air. “Watch for strangers,” he said.
Keene, towering over his two charges, Jess at his feet, nodded briskly. It would have to do.
Briggs turned back to Vincent, motioning impatiently for him to lead the way—and deciding, quite firmly, that it was the monotonous scream of the station’s alarm that was making him feel so anxious.
When the ME shook, Tom Cabot was hiding out in the rec room, watching a sci-fi holovid in near dark with a few of the researchers—Cindy and Di, both paleo women, and John C., one of the maintenance guys. The sudden up and down wasn’t too bad where they were, all of them managed to keep their seats, but Cabot knew that parts of the station would have been harder hit.
The second it stopped, all of them were on their feet, moving toward the open door that led out onto the rec platform. The floor was slanted just a bit, Cabot could feel it, and when he heard the stabilizer alarm start up, he felt real fear. MEs weren’t supposed to quake like that, and something had to be seriously wrong if the nav computers couldn’t keep the alarm from sounding.
Either someone entered a drift code or we got caught on something big, something heavy, and it just had to happen with a suit on board, didn’t it? First time ever and Vincent’11 be having a shit fit . . .
They reached the door, moving out onto the platform littered with bolted tables and chairs, Cabot stepping up to the railing. John C. and the two scientists joined him, identical expressions of nervous concern on their faces. The rec deck overlooked control directly, maybe they’d be able to see something—
“What’s that?” Cindy said, pointing to the deck below. The outside lights were low, it was hard to tell, a sprawl of something wet, shining darkly . . .
“Oh, shit,” Di said weakly. “It’s Windy, that’s Windy.”
They stared down at what was left of the channel
watcher, no chance that he was alive with all of that blood—
—and behind them, something shrieked. A gurgling, unbridled howl, a scream of murder about to happen.
Cabot spun and saw nothing at all, but the horrible sound went on, erupting out of thin air, and then they were all stumbling away from the rail, running for the tunnel that opened out onto the deck, that would take them away from the invisible screamer—
—and Cindy, closest to the corridor, let out a strangled cry and stopped cold, her head whipping back as if she’d run into something, her limbs flailing wildly. All of them pulled to a stop only a couple of meters behind her, clutching at each other like frightened children.
“What is it, what’s happening?” John C. screamed, and no one answered, watching in shocked terror as metal claws appeared in front of Cindy, from nowhere, a sharp sliding sound, and then they were swooping down from above, raking her open from throat to belly. Blood gushed out and hit the platform with a wet slap, and Cindy collapsed, crashing facefirst into the sudden lake of red.
Cabot didn’t waste time wondering. He grabbed at John C. and Di, giving them a jerk before spinning around and sprinting for the door back into the rec room. He didn’t turn back to see if they were following, didn’t care, all he wanted was to get the fuck away from whatever had clawed Cindy open, oh, please God, Buddha, Jesus don’t let me die—
Behind him, an alien howl, a caterwaul of triumph, and he was going to make it, the door was right there—
—and the crazy hope that crashed through him as he burst into the dimly lit room was the last thing he felt, except for the unseen arm that clamped down across his throat, except for the slick, hot sensation of being drained as something cold slipped through his abdomen.
18
Noguchi was dozing, a light, restless sleep that seemed to be taking her in and out of unpleasant dreams, when the aging wave scanner started spitting out static and words.
Startled out of her doze, Noguchi rolled over to switch it off, wondering why she’d bothered to put the damned thing on in the first place. She touched the controls, then paused, her attention caught by the sound of the speaker’s voice. A woman, and she sounded scared.
“. . . Bunda survey, we are … tack . . . lizers malfunctioning …”
It was clearer than Noguchi was used to, the words sharper. She hit the tuner rather than the power switch and upped the volume a notch, then lay back down on her bunk, listening. With the channel reestablished, the connection cleared up a little.
“. . . peat, this is Bunda survey … are under attack, send help! The station . . . ucked up, I can . . . people screaming . . . ey’re invisible, can’t see them and . . .”
Noguchi sat up, staring at the scanner.
“. . . killing everyone . . .”
Invisible. Attack.
Hunters.
Even through her shocked disbelief, it only took a second for everything to fall into place. The truth was so simple.
Wouldn’t want me along on a Hunt where the grand finale involves killing humans, would you?
“… can hear me, I’m gonna try to see . . . can get to … ships, evacuate …”
She barely heard it, the thoughts too sudden and overwhelming, blocking out everything else. The warrior with the wrist banner, Topknot’s decision for her to fight a novice on the morning of the Hunt, the consistent and all-consuming hatred that they’d held for her, from the beginning. What Hunter befriends their prey? Sharpening their skills on bugs, ranting on and on about the Hunter’s code and the Blooding ritual, and maybe some of that was true—but the big Hunt, the one that brought Leaders and their veteran comrades in from throughout their universe . . .
. . . humans. They went down there to slaughter people.
For a moment, Noguchi couldn’t move, her body stiff with the desperate need to do something, every muscle locked because she didn’t know what that thing was. The transports were all gone, there was no way for her to get to the surface—but she couldn’t do nothing, listening to some terrified woman screaming for help while she sat and waited for the Hunters to return . . .
Topknot, her Leader. She’d respected him, and the pain of that thought turned to an anger deeper than mere emotion; her very soul had been betrayed, she’d suffered a year of hell adhering to a code created by hypocrites. By human killers.
Noguchi stood up and walked to the shelf in the corner of the little room before she knew what she was
going to do, pulling down things that had been given to her by the Hunters. There was the blade with the shortened handle, the knee and shoulder pads that had been a child yautja’s, a dull erose knife that she’d spent hours sharpening and polishing, honing to a sparkling sharpness. Throwaways from the Clan that she’d been proud to own . . .
She didn’t have a plan as she started to dress, slipping into her armor, feeling stronger with each layer of splash suit and weaponry, the aches and pains of her body falling away. By the time she was finished, enough of an idea had formed that she was ready to act.
Noguchi was going to make her break with the Hunters in a way that they would never forget, and she was going to make peace with herself while she was doing it. When it was over, she would truly be free.
At last, Briggs and the others were gone and there was only Keene, watching them, holding Ellis’s numb shoulder with a grip like a steel vise. Lara’s, too, her lovely face lined with pain.
Ellis felt dizzy and sick and ashamed. Jess had been badly hurt and now Briggs didn’t believe that there was no ship’s log. Through all of it, the only thing that seemed clear—figuratively and literally—was Max. Max stood giant and invulnerable, watching it all, its hydraulic body almost glowing with energy at rest. Max had been the answer, and Ellis had ignored it.
/ was afraid of pain, of dying, and I failed to act. If we were together, none of this would have happened, we could have stopped this before anyone was hurt. He’d been weak, he’d already forgotten what Max had taught him . . .