The crew had hid the ship despite it being cloaked. They were taking no chances. But the Orb in the sky, where was it? Was it no longer a threat?
A suited man with unblinking eyes and waxen face struggled over the lip of shattered metal and faced Yul who stepped back to examine him with curiosity.
A man of medium height wearing a commander’s badge, with a high forehead and shock of sandy hair, followed next and vaulted to his feet like a kangaroo. A rare dexterity for a man in a suit. Sixteen other men followed, of various builds, complexions, and races. All carried weapons, Master E1 assault rifles, sleek, black, ten-inch instruments of death. The commander sized up Yul without much effort, something he was apparently used to. “Where are the samples?”
“In the Albatross. There.” Yul jerked a thumb back deeper in the hold.
“You lead. I’m Goss, this is lieutenant Xix. A synthetic, cybernot SC 34-6. You’re going in there to get them. Mathias paid you to do a job, so this time, do it.”
Yul stared whimsically at Goss’s flattened boxer’s nose and his equally glamorous synthetic minion. “Aren’t you the man of charm?” he remarked dryly.
“I get paid for my competence, Vrean, unlike you. Not for my good looks.”
Yul shrugged. “Greer is dead. Hurd may still be alive, near the ship’s bridge. Frue and Regers, I think are toast.” A guilty feeling played at Yul’s guts. He hadn’t left Hurd in any position to escape. Bluntly, a toy for the Zikri.
Goss plied him for details then waved an impatient hand. “Dumb sod was stupid enough to get caught without a suit, so I say let him die in a stew of his own making.”
Yul gritted his teeth. “I’ll take that as a no then, regarding rescue.”
“Move on.” Goss waved his weapon.
Yul didn’t like Goss. The man was abrupt, devoid of feeling for the value of human life. This was going to be a difficult operation. Somebody was going to get killed and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be him. “What about the Orb up there?”
“What Orb?” Goss’s toothy smile gleamed through his faceplate like a zombie’s rictus.
Yul’s lips parted. “You blasted them? Are you up for a war with the Zikri?”
“Whatever the cost,” grumbled Goss. “Move on, Vrean. Your foolish questions are eating up time. Better we get out of here before more squids show up.”
Yul clenched his fists. He led them to the Albatross, holding his tongue.
Goss grunted at what he saw, not liking the look of the charred holes in its outer hull, where the Zikri had forced their way in.
Entering the companionway, the commander frowned at the headless carcass of the Zikri splayed in death. Yul gave it a wide berth. A spray of flesh where the head had exploded had coagulated faster than what Yul thought normal. He looked about, but saw no sign of the dragonfly. Some men stayed to tear off samples of Zikri flesh, fragments of skull, and its slime-drenched tentacles.
“What killed it?” asked Goss’s lieutenant, Xix. “Doesn’t look like blaster fire.”
Goss waved him on. “Who cares? It’s dead.” The commander liked even less the state of the bridge when Yul showed it to him. He considered warning the precious commander and the last eight stragglers of his team about the menace of plants and strange winged crab-like bugs, but thought it wouldn’t matter much to these wordless robots. He knew men like these—soulless automatons, encountered many times, men who followed orders blindly, with fixed impressions in their tiny, programmed brains. No heart there or soul.
They pushed by him one by one, shouldered him out of the way.
Yul grinned, his suspicions confirmed, and a raging heat gathered in his chest.
“You did a number on the bridge,” Goss remarked. He inclined his head, hissing. “I see the casing fragments of our own titanium bombs over there. You blow up our bridge?”
“Well, you know how it goes, Goss—better to go out with a bang when improvising.”
“Clown,” grunted Goss. “We’ll see what Mathias thinks of all this, and how much grinning you’re doing when he cuts your balls off.”
Yul was somewhat surprised, even disappointed, that the dragonfly-crabs hadn’t put in an appearance. But now he was nervous. Where was the bloody thing? There couldn’t be just one. There was never just one. He’d rather know where they were, than discover them cached somewhere, leaping out of some dark shadow and driving a white proboscis through his skull.
His fingers curled about his blaster, his dark eyes darting to the ceiling.
Goss caught the movement and his steel-blue eyes beetled up to follow Yul’s gaze. “Something up there, Vrean? Something you want to tell us about?”
Yul shook his head, looked away.
The men scooped up a few charred ribbed husks in their sample bags, looking about the ruined bridge with unease. All aboard the bridge felt some deadly menace lurking about the blasted spaces.
Goss spoke huskily into his communicator. “The Orb is carrying two V-Z lightfighters. Saw them on the way into the hold. Also some charred, but charming exhibits here on the bridge which might spark your interest.” If it was who Yul thought it was, Goss must be using the Cybernetics Corp ship’s hyperdrive coils as a means to relay the message back through the light years. Goss continued, “A mutilated Zikri in the hall, dozens more in the bridge. Ship’s taken a beating, not skyworthy. Some of the dead seem killed by blaster fire and explosions, others not. Yul here, appears not to have
