He looked at the egg again, smooth and unbroken, and felt the first sliver of real fear slip into his mind. What if . . .
“Ridiculous,” he muttered, shifting uncomfortably. He was Lucas Briggs, upper six figures plus full WY perks, a palatial home in New Japan, only a fraction of
a millimeter away from a spot on the Board. A spot that was as good as his, once he filed his report.
Positive thinking. Like what I’ll do to that pilot, once we’re off Bunda. Like the look on Julia Russ’s face when she hears about my promotion.
Keene was probably still guarding the trio of prisoners, so it would be Nirasawa who found him; it was better that way. Keene was good but the synth would be able to handle a few drones with his bare hands. Much more efficient, much faster.
Briggs stared at the egg for a long moment, then cleared his throat, thinking that perhaps it would help things along if he made his position known.
“Nirasawa! I’m here!”
As if waiting for the sound of his voice, the top of the egg opened. Four thick, mucousy petals folded back, something moving in the shadowy center. Something pulsing, glistening in the faint bluish light cast down from above.
“Nirasawa!”
More hisses rose up around him, shadows moving out from the trees, but he couldn’t look away from the egg. This was laughable, he was Lucas Briggs, this couldn’t possibly be happening, think positive, think positive—
“NIRASAWA, KEENE, GET OVER HERE NOW!”
Like a spider, like some slick and impossible insect, the face-hugger leapt from its cold, unsealed womb. It was so fast that Briggs didn’t have any more time to consider how very unlikely this outcome was, how things like this simply didn’t happen to executives of his rank.
By the time Noguchi saw them, it was too late. The Shell had already touched the tops of the trees, roughly grinding through them, snapping them like twigs. Even strapped in, the ride was rough; she could hear the bodies in the dock being thrown against the walls, the ship alarms clattering and trilling that it was not a
cleared landing zone, telling her that the Shell was suffering irreparable damage. As if she didn’t know.
The ship continued its reckless half crash into the trees, the night broken by the reflected light of the giant, dying fire close by—and Noguchi saw the two humans in the viewscreen as the Shell actually touched the ground, a tremendous, dragging crunch of wood being forced into the soil, of plants and trees being chopped down by the nose of the still-moving ship.
No!
Noguchi saw the two figures running, pumping hell-bent to get out of the way—and then the ship plowed upward, the jerking image of the fleeing people gone from the screen. She saw shadowed green, moving, she saw a flash of dark sky, then green again—and then it was over, the Shell coming to rest.
The second she felt that the ship had settled, she popped the seat harness and grabbed her mask, desperate to get out, to see if she’d done the unthinkable. What a cruel irony it would be, to be responsible for killing people she’d come to save from the Hunters, a Clan ship the instrument of their deaths.
She doubted that the queen had survived the landing, but she hesitated at the hatch back into the shuttle dock all the same, listening. She’d already half slipped into battle mode, all of her senses tuning up for whatever came next. There was nothing but the clattering, hissing alarm, no sound, no feel of movement. Noguchi moved quickly across the dock, popping the air-lock door on the east side.
The rush of air seemed cold compared to the Shell’s heated atmosphere, and she welcomed it, breathing deeply as she looked down, assessing her climb. The ship was easily twenty-five meters high, but there were trees pressed against the side, less than a four-meter drop to the closest branch; Noguchi donned her mask and quickly lowered herself over the lock’s edge, able to slide part of the way down the Shell’s curving slope.
From the trees to the ground it was an easy climb,
mostly dropping from branch to branch, steadying herself with one hand against the hull. Her ankle was still sore from her fight with Shorty, but the rest of her injuries seemed to have melted away. As soon as her feet touched, she took off her mask, hurrying around to the front of the ship.
Please, let them be here, let them be unhurt—
Noguchi stepped away from the ship, searching— and there they were, standing in a small semi-clearing right in front of the Shell. A man and a woman, both disheveled and dirty, both staring at her as if she were an alien; the thought made her smile, just a little. The woman, who held a handgun, lowered it slightly. They glanced at each other uncertainly, then back at her.
A sudden crunch of nerves hit her, seeing two human faces, human expressions for the first time in—
—three years, it’s been three years. What must I look like, what are they thinking? What am I going to say?
Noguchi forced herself to relax. She’d tell them the truth, that was all.
The woman was slender, long, reddish hair framing an intelligent and wary face. The man was dark-skinned, of African descent perhaps, and had been hurt recently; bruises covered his face and one of his eyes was badly swollen. Only the woman was armed, though the male held himself carefully, obviously prepared to fight if she were an attacker.
Noguchi swallowed dryly, stepping closer to the couple. “Sorry,” she said, still smiling just a little, her heart pounding as if she faced an army of drones. “I’ve never had much luck with landings. My name is Machiko Noguchi, and I’m here to help.”
22
Of all the weird shit Jess had seen and experienced in the last couple of weeks, this had to be, hands down, the absolute mother of ’em all. The crash landing of a giant alien ship that had very nearly run them down, followed by the appearance of a small, deadly-looking Japanese woman, maybe early 30s TS, with beaded hair and a scar shaped like a lightning bolt between her eyes. Wearing alien armor that looked a hell of a lot like the armor on that cloaked creature . . .
. . . and the hair, and that mask she’s holding . . .
“You’re human,” he said finally, a stupid statement but all he could think of; he wanted reassurance.
The woman, Noguchi, nodded almost shyly. “Yeah. Um, thanks. I—you’ll have to excuse me, I haven’t— you don’t know how good it is to speak to people again.”
They stood for a moment not speaking at all, just staring at one another, the crackling light of the ebbing station fire making it all seem even stranger, jagged shadows dancing across the peculiar scene. Jess knew
that they had to find Ellis, that they needed weapons and supplies, that they had to get off of Bunda—but all he could do was stare at this woman, wondering when he was going to wake up.
And just when I thought things couldn’t get any more fantastic. Christ, what a freak show.
Lara finally broke their odd silence, taking a step toward Noguchi. “You said you were here to help, Ms. Noguchi—do you mind telling us exactly what’s going on?”
Her smile gone, Noguchi looked down at the mask in her hands before answering, her stilted voice gaining strength as she spoke. “It’s kind of a long story. I heard that people on this planet—on Bunda—were in trouble, and I knew that I had to choose which side I was going to be on, the Hunters’ or yours.”
Jess frowned, making the connection between the woman’s clothes and hair and the thing that had jumped him near the shuttle; apparently, there was more than one. “The Hunters? The invisible, uh, people who attacked the survey station? You’re with them?”
“I’ve been with them for over a year,” Noguchi said. “And they’re not human. I thought—I learned the hard way that it was a mistake to think a human being could adapt to their culture. Their Clan.”
She grinned, the look of it sending a chill down Jess’s spine. He’d had a hard life, and didn’t know that he’d ever seen anything as dangerous as that smile. “Now they’re learning just how big a mistake it was.”
Jesus, who is this woman?
Noguchi shook her head, as if clearing it. “Look, I made quite an entrance, so it won’t be long before we have company. Are there any .other survivors? We’ve got to round them up and get to cover.”
Lara glanced over at him, and he shrugged, grimacing at the dozens of aches the action inspired. If there were any people left, the chances of finding them didn’t seem so hot.