. . . we’ll take care of you, kid. Don’t die on us—and don’t stop being Ellis.
That was the worst of his fears, he knew, even worse than that Ellis might die from the second interface. The thought that Ellis might not be there anymore, that the spark of his character might be gone—
—no. He’ll be fine, everything will be fine. Jess held on to the thought, determined to believe it.
They reached the ship, and it looked even more
alien up close. It was made from some light gray material, matte and smooth, not a straight line in sight. Even the hatch was rounded, a giant stretched oval set into the side of the swollen body. Lara reached up and touched a panel next to the door, Jess holding his breath—and exhaling as the hatch slid to one side with a soft hum.
Inside, it looked more like a transport shuttle, with obvious chairs and a rounded console at the front. It was spacious and empty, and smelled faintly of something sour.
Lara moved inside, and Jess turned to Max, standing a few meters away. Even Hunter-sized, the door was too small to admit the bulky suit; he’d have to pull Ellis out and carry him into the ship.
“Okay, Ellis. Breathe easy, I’m going to—”
Max raised his rifle arm, pointing it down the hill, cutting Jess short, making him feel sick. Something was coming. It was as if every pain in Jess’s body surfaced at once, the full extent of his injury and exhaustion finally letting itself be known.
No more. God, no more.
Jess turned, aching—
—and saw Machiko Noguchi emerge from the tangle of trees.
Maxellis was safe and warm in the dark, feeling nothing, aware that the smallwoman was not a threat. They kept the left arm raised anyway, in case she was not alone.
She moved quickly up the grade and spoke to the Jess, the man, both of them making soft and light sounds, good sounds. She stood and waited for something, her posture expectant.
The man moved behind Maxellis and touched the damaged area of their body. They realized too late what he was doing and tried to tell him no, no, that it was not good—
—and there was a shock of sensation, of many, ice
and wet and pain. Maxellis screamed soundlessly, born into the terrible cold, pulled from their womb of sustenance—
—and then there was nothing.
Lara sat in the center of the circular console, confused, not sure what to touch to make the alien ship come to life. She’d found the controls, at least—there were a dozen flat squares that might be buttons facing the blank front viewscreen, with two thick handles sitting above them. She’d punched the first square in the line and it had lit up, a deep red color. As far as she could tell, that was all it had done.
Intuitive, right . . .
She was about to try the next when she heard Noguchi’s voice coming from the open hatch behind her.
“I can pilot, come help—”
Lara stood and turned, hugely relieved at the sound of the woman’s firm voice—until she saw Ellis in Noguchi’s arms, streaks of drying blood on his ashen face. His hair was matted with red.
“Oh, shit,” Lara said weakly, and hurried out from behind the controls, stumbling to where Noguchi stood. Together, they moved Ellis to one of the benches against the wall, laying him down as gently as possible.
Noguchi moved to the controls and slid into the pilot seat, running her hand across the buttons from left to right. Immediately, the ship began to rumble, a steady sound of working machinery filling the faintly unpleasant air. At the same time, the front viewscreen flickered on, and Lara glanced up at it from where she’d collapsed, cradling Ellis’s poor head in her lap.
The picture was surprisingly sharp, the colors muted, the view of the hill’s base where the clearing met the jungle. Lara started to look away, to look for a supply cabinet, they have to have bandages of some kind—
—when she saw the darkness coil out into the open space.
“Jess!” Lara screamed, staring at the dozens of bugs
that were surging out of the trees, at the running black tide of teeth and claws erupting into the clearing.
“He said he was—” Noguchi started, but then Jess was falling inside, tripping across the smooth floor to where Lara sat, landing in the seat next to her.
“Go, go, I’m in!” Jess shouted.
“Hang on, we’re—”
Bam bam bam bam!
Noguchi whipped around, staring at the still-open hatch. “Who’s shooting?”
“Briggs, I put him in Max,” Jess said. “Now go!”
The drones were coming, the dark wave drawing closer, and over the sound of a pulse rifle Lara could hear their rising screams—and could see the front line crumbling, the closest of the trumpeting animals blown back by the steady beat of Max’s firing—
—and then the hatch was closed, and Lara held on to Ellis as the transport jerked and lifted, rising up from in front of the teeming mass, from the sudden river of liquid fire that swept across the dark, insectile bodies.
Flamethrower.
Lara turned wide eyes to Jess, still not sure that she’d heard right.
“You put Briggs—”
Jess reached down and touched Ellis’s forehead, brushing the hair away from his waxy brow. “Thought he could do some good with the time he has left,” Jess muttered.
The transport rose for another few seconds and then shot away.
30
Lara and Jess had done what they could for their friend, bandaging him with a few pieces of soft leather they’d found for cleaning weapons. There was a medkit on board, but the tough plastic patches that Hunters used as bandages weren’t made for humans, and Noguchi didn’t know about any of the shots or drug packs.
There was plenty of air, enough for at least two weeks, and ancient emergency rations that had been stocked on the slight chance that something went wrong on a Hunt, stranding the Hunters. The protein jerky would taste terrible, she knew from experience, but it would sustain them.
As the transport began its ascent into Bunda’s outer atmosphere, Lara and Jess moved forward, taking seats near the piloting console..Noguchi glanced back and saw that they’d strapped the unconscious Ellis to a bench, his arms folded across his narrow chest. It was amazing to her, how young he was. She’d pictured him as much older, as a lined and weathered man, but the person Jess had pulled out of the suit barely looked out
of his teens. With his face wiped clean, he seemed even more like a child, pale and fragile.
“How is he?” Noguchi asked.
Lara answered. “His pulse is good, but beyond that . . .”
She trailed off, and the three of them sat quietly for a moment. Noguchi could hardly believe that it was over; not just their experience on Bunda, but her life with the Clan.
“So, where do we go from here?” Jess asked softly, his eyes closed, his voice thick with approaching sleep.
“Home,” Lara said, looking out at the approaching stars, her expression peaceful, tired, and a little sad but at rest.
Home.
Lara was talking about Earth, but Noguchi thought there was more to it, the planet’s name inspiring none of the warm and lovely things that Lara’s answer had inspired. It was the word for feelings she’d never fully understood and she savored it, tasting it, wondering how it could mean so much now.
Home. Someplace I haven’t been, yet.
They moved out into the void, the soothing lull of the engines putting her passengers to sleep, Noguchi looking forward to experiences she knew would put the Hunt to shame, to a life that would be whole and fulfilling and new; they were going home.
EPILOGUE
He slept, and as he had before, he dreamed.
He dreamed in concepts, in pictures of ideas. That there was strength and heat in the cold emptiness, that there was light in the dark, that time and thought were fluid, yielding to the pressure of his touch. He dreamed that there was no loneliness, no pain—and when the fabric of his dreams began to thin, when shredded, ugly holes began to appear in the fine cloth, he fought bitterly to keep his dreams close to him, to keep himself whole.
It was no use. After what seemed an eternal struggle the beautiful darkness melted away, and there was pain, and he was alone. The war was lost . . . but he thought that his name was Brian, and in thinking it, felt that perhaps losing wasn’t the end of everything good.
He settled into a deep and healing sleep, and did not dream anymore.