On the way to the OPS deck, Max still remembered that st conversation with Naomi. The promise they made to each other repyed in his head over and over like a scratched record. As he walked through the corridors, the C–Sec squad leaders tried to catch up with him at a jog. They asked him questions about the mission, seeking instructions. But Max just nodded without paying attention. Their urgent words had turned into an annoying and distant murmur.

  —. Look, you have another bruise. — Naomi had told him while examining his bare torso. Before he could protest or downpy it, he felt the cold of the somatic gel against his skin, between his ribs, his back, and his armpits. A silent whimper escaped his mouth like a hiss, and his eyes narrowed into a line.

  In the medical bay, the injured y not only in the emergency room but also in the corridors, like scattered chess pieces. Since there weren't enough stretchers, they were id on the floor, convalescing and dead alike, those being transported to the morgue that miraculously had not yet become overwhelmed.

  The couple found soce in Naomi's office. The office had a stark and bnd appearance. A small room, no more than six square meters, with smooth opaque metal walls, like the rest of the ship. Light emanated around the room, near the ceiling, and the lights created the illusion of being slits filtering sunlight. But they were in the heart of the module, and there were no windows nearby. That reminded them of the confinement surrounding them.

  Max was sitting on a white, cocoon–shaped wheeled chair. Simple, it looked like a minimalist work of art. Naomi was on the desk, checking her HoloPad, scanning Max's torso for injuries. The only decoration was two posters of the skeletal system, one of a full body and another of a skull. In one corner of the desk read <>. Max drew a smile of pride on his face.

  —. Raise your arms. — Naomi's words distracted him from that brief daydream, and like a child obeying his mother, he complied. Immediately, Naomi began to apply orthopedic tape —. This is for precaution. There were no fractures. Just minor contusions and bruises. —

  —. So I'm out of danger. — Max said in a joking tone but she didn't find it funny, and then she tightened the bands firmly. That forced him to let out a whimper.

  —. I'm serious. — Naomi told him, her penetrating green eyes fixed on him anxiously —. Thank God you have that habit of putting on the safety harness. Or else you would have ended up like... — and then she noticed for a moment that her voice was breaking. Max was sure that the images of the bridge would haunt him for a long time, even in hypersleep. Every time he closed his eyes, Kaleb Galloway looked at him with his eyes out of their sockets and his skull crushed. Blood bubbles chased him like a specter. He not only thanked God for himself. Max thanked Harding for repeating it to him until he was fed up; always wear the damn seatbelt.

  Naomi wiped her tears with her forearm and bit the inside of her lip. She swallowed hard along with the sobs that threatened to surface, but she held them back. Max was left with words hanging in his throat. Instead, they remained in silence, an oppressive silence like a shroud, barely interrupted by the constant hum of the ship. It was as if neither of them wanted to point out the elephant in the room.

  —. Matkovich can't do this to us. — Naomi let drop, her voice as firm as her grief allowed —. We had pns. He just trampled them. — Max stepped forward and took her hand, trying to be an anchor in that silent storm.

  —. Naomi. — their eyes crossed again. He wanted to find words of comfort, to tell her that everything would be fine. Instead, he found his mind bnk. He remained seeing her green and amber eyes in the midst of that pale face like snow and her strands of hair bck as night —. This is just a minor setback. Our pns don't change at all. — she let out a ugh that sounded more like a sob.

  —. Max. The old bastard just appointed you captain of the Chronos. He just condemned us to stay here for the rest of our lives, who knows for how long... —

  —. Which I don't want either. — Max interrupted her. Lines of anguish formed on Naomi's forehead when she heard him, and gravity pulled the corners of her lips into a frown —. Do you know what I want? To finish this damn mission, get out of this system as if we had fireworks up our asses. Then get into a hypersleep bed. When we wake up, to tell everyone "thank you, nice to meet you. See you in three decades." To walk out the big door, the two of us in a ship, and the next thing we see through a window is Mars. Believe me, I will never be so happy to have a post–hypersleep hangover knowing it's the st one. —

  —. Matkovich's request wasn't a request. — Naomi insisted in a fatalistic and resigned tone, den with subtle desperation —. It was an order, his st will. He won't accept questioning. The old man is on his deathbed. —

  —. I'm still the First Officer. The Second in command and his right hand. He will have to listen to me. What he always does, for better or for worse. — Naomi's eyes sparkled with a glimmer of hope, which seemed a distant clearing in the midst of the storm, and her mouth opened to say something. But Max grasped her hand and brought his face closer to hers —. After dealing with the colonists who boarded us, I will go straight to talk to the captain. I will let him know that I will submit my resignation as soon as we reach Solsys. I will thank him for everything, but I will tell him that we are leaving. It will be painful for him, but he will listen and understand. — thinking about it, it made him happy. However, a knot formed in his throat, imagining that this would be some sort of farewell. With the captain, with Harding, and with all the crew he had called friends. The recent dead only added weight to the equation when he imagined that even the ghosts were saying goodbye too, and for a few seconds, he almost let out a sob —. And I will do my best to tell him that Daimonji will be a good captain. — Naomi resigned herself to a sincere ugh.

  —. He has always dreamed of Matkovich's seat, hasn't he? — she inquired. Max nodded with his head and hands.

  —. It will fit him like a ring on a finger. Sooner or ter, everything falls into pce. — an urgent beep sounded from his HoloPad. A reminder that the mission was not over. He stood up, resigned. Duty called him. Naomi helped him put on his shirt and wrap himself in the jacket —. Harding must be pissed off. Those colonists should have been in the brig by yesterday. — he observed quietly, while cutting the call and putting the HoloPad in his pocket. He was heading towards the door when Naomi grabbed him by the wrist and gently pulled him towards her, like an unspoken plea.

  —. Be careful. —

  —. I will be. — Max replied, and then they shared an Eskimo kiss with their noses. Retracing his steps, he said goodbye —. We will talk when this is over. —

  Naomi waved her hand as she watched him open the door and disappear down the corridor. The knot in her throat felt like a crown of thorns crushing her. A terrible feeling of foreboding washed over her like a chill, along with an emptiness in her chest. Her Bck Shadow senses activated for a split second, whispering a sinister revetion to her. Something terrible was about to happen. She didn't know if it was her, or Max, or the crew. But they were at a point of no return. She felt like a cornered cat, surrounded by threats, as if something was watching her from all sides. And before she realised it, it was over. Naomi found herself in a tense calm, like that which precedes a storm.

  ***

  With synchronized moves, the C–Sec teams prepared for the mission. The riot gear was cyan–gray kevr armor with flexible nanofabric like silk, but hard as diamond, topped with a pressurized helmet with a tinted visor. It looked like a strange mix between medieval knights endowed with Orwellian lethality.

  Max left the Knocker to the left of his belt, a No–Gel shotgun on his back, and the ST–F9 psma pistol to his right, in case things got ugly. Non–lethal force was the instruction. And to ensure that such a thing was true, each one carried a Reverse Field Device. Finally, if there was a risk of contagion, some officers carried Heat Units; hydrazine fmethrowers.

  After securing his heavy boots, Max adjusted a copper gauntlet around his right hand. He tried to activate it, sliding it over the locker. Whorls of dust were lifted by the interaction of the slight magnetic field, forming a whirlwind. It worked. With a bit of luck, physical contact with the intruders wouldn't be necessary at all.

  Once ready, they moved forward and gathered in the station's cafeteria. Harding at the front, Max to his right, and Murat Ayatev to his left. Armored figures reunited, holding their helmets to one side. Old and young. Broad faces and compact bodies, while others had elongated bones and slender frames. All with at least one bruise and some patch or bandage on their faces.

  The Security Chief stood on a table and raised his hands in a silent signal for attention. One by one, faces turned, until the constant murmur gave way to silence.

  —. Everyone, attention. — Harding reiterated —. As you know, at 0640 hours, six Banshee–css shuttles took off from the colony and attempted to board us. As the situation is critical and there is a flight ban, deterrent measures were used. However, EREBUS suffered a small but catastrophic error that led it to a paradoxical reasoning, and not wanting to harm the colonists, it deactivated the PDCs without any prior order. This allowed one of the shuttles to forcibly dock near the habitat drum, and another to crash in the Cargo Bay, causing the death of 210 passengers who were still in hypersleep. — Max felt his throat close. The number had increased. A murmur of shock spread among the officers.

  —. We don't know how many colonists we have on board, but they are consuming resources. More than we currently have. — Max stepped forward, speaking over the mutter —. We also don't know if they are infected. The orders are as follows; any intruder not belonging to the crew or passengers will be subdued with Non–Lethal Force, then taken and detained in the ship's brig awaiting further instructions, where we will be told what to do with them. Any questions? – Glen Lexner was the first to raise his hand. A guy in his twenties with a crooked nose. He crushed his curly brown locks with a bck cap. A boyish face, but with the arms and back of a lumberjack.

  —. How will we know if they are infected? — Max felt a chill remembering those images. That disfigured body beyond recognition, on its way to becoming a mass of tumors.

  —. Yellowish secretions through the eyes, nose, mouth, ears. Generally soft tissue. Visible tumors on the rest of the body. It spreads very quickly. Apparently, it is very contagious. —

  —. Only in that case, you can resort to Lethal Force. — Harding added —. Shoot first and ask questions ter. Use the Heat Units to scorch anything that crawls towards you. — one by one they nodded.

  —. How do we recognize them? The colonists. — asked Beca Santos. They gave the floor to Murat, who stepped forward.

  —. The gravity of Lacaille 8760 G, Lohengrin, is 40% greater than that of Earth. We can tolerate 1 G, like now. But that rock down there is a hellish gravity well, and that's where these guys grew up. Identifying them will be easy. Short. Broad. Stocky. Grumpy, and they live underground. They are like the damn dwarves from the stories. — a collective giggle was heard among the squads, which Harding immediately silenced.

  —. This is not a joke. — he stated —. Those guys could bench press my deadlift PR. —

  —. And as a warm–up. — Murat added —. You don't want to catch them angry. A punch could kill you. Be careful. — what had once been ughter turned into an oppressive silence.

  —. That's why I asked EREBUS to configure our suits. — Max added —. It will give us more strength than them, and we will be able to subdue them without problems in case of a struggle. —

  —. And how do we know that EREBUS won't fail this time? — Petrelli shouted from a corner.

  —. Doctor Zhang guaranteed it to us. She updated his guidelines. This morning's incident will not be repeated. — Harding assured —. Any other questions? – the response was silence. The officers looked at the trio like police hounds waiting for an order —. So what the hell are you waiting for? Move! Now! –

  ***

  The first intruders appeared in Hydroponics. Max and his squad knew it when they saw Dr. Gabrie Cortázar and her team waiting for them outside the cultivation chamber. They pointed in silence; they are in there. Max nodded with his arm, and Harding ordered the team to advance.

  Crouched behind a forklift, in the middle of a hallway where rows of cherry tomatoes were falling, they saw them. There were three colonists. They watched from their hiding pce with wide–open eyes, like frightened rabbits. When they pointed the red beam of the ser sights at them, they immediately raised their hands without resistance.

  —. Get on the ground, now! — Harding barked, advancing with the shotgun in hand. The three fell to their knees.

  The oldest of them, a man with short copper hair who looked like a burly hobbit, tried to speak. The Chief of Security's shouts silenced him. He forced him to face the floor while he knelt on his back and pulled his arms to cuff him. The woman beside him screamed, begging him not to hurt her. She received the same treatment from Lexner. The third, the youngest, said nothing and ended up handcuffed, looking lost and gasping for breath.

  As they were taken to the brig, the air smelled of a mixture of desperation, sweat, fertiliser and ozone. Max couldn't help but think they'd gone too far. He lifted the visor of his helmet and wiped the sweat from his face with his forearm. He was dying for a cigarette. It would have to be ter, the operation had just begun.

  In Recreation, they coincided with Petrelli's team. Just in time. There was a hostile situation in the mess hall. A group of four had taken hostages and demanded to communicate with the captain immediately. They were staying on the Chronos, and no one was getting them off. They would release the crew when they were out of orbit.

  All had reimagined tools as weapons. But one of them had something to fear. A Magnetic Sledgehammer, the favorite of the local thugs. No other use than intimidation. No one would like to end up pulp from the combination of kinetic energy with a Magnetic Field.

  He threatened to kill a crew member for every five minutes they refused. It was then that C-Sec entered. To call it a fight was to be lenient with these bastards. Lexner caught the maul-wielding thug in a reverse-field net. Immediately they unleashed the Knockers. He fell like a rag doll, suffocating in the arms of Morpheus.

  Seeing their fallen leader, one of the colonists aimed a nail gun, cursing in what seemed a mix of Cantonese and Russian with a guttural and strange accent. A ball of Ballistic Gel hit him like a punch in the face, and he fell knocked out without offering further resistance while being cuffed. The other two cowered at the numbers and dropped to their knees with their hands up. Max barely had time to take a breath when the fifth charged at him.

  He jumped out of a corner with his hands outstretched. He tried to wrestle the weapon from his grasp. The bastard had the weight of a demon. It felt like a pit bull attacking. If it hadn't been for the riot gear, he wouldn't have counted twice. He managed to throw him to the ground like balst, and as he got to his feet, Max drew the No-Gel shotgun and hit him in the stomach like an uppercut.

  —. Ooof... — he grunted hoarsely as he fell to his knees, drooling and with his eyes rolling in their sockets. He tried to struggle when they put the cuffs on him, but a shot from the Fulminator was enough to take him out, dragging him like a sack of potatoes to the brig along with the others.

  At first, there was no sign of the pgue that had ravaged the colony. The invaders looked healthy, with no signs of anything resembling a virus. But it was only a matter of time before they encountered one. They did so in the Command Module, near the elevator that connects to the axis of the Habitat Drum.

  They found the bodies of three technicians lying in their path. Kovacs. Wong and Ackerman. It looked like a chimp had taken its wrath out on them, tearing their faces, ripping out their eyes, fingers, and limbs. Kovacs had been disemboweled. Over the brutalized bodies, huge blotches of yellowish goo, as if a bottle full of pus and dark blood had been poured over them. They wrapped them in airtight bags and took them to the morgue.

  They soon encountered the fourth victim. Ali Khan was slumped over a pool of blood while a silhouette rained down a sad of punches on him. With a crunch, his nose sank into the middle of his face. His head tilted inertly, revealing an empty socket and the stump of a torn–off ear.

  —. My God. — Max said through clenched teeth. When they aimed the weapon's lights at the author, they saw what looked like a hairless, chubby, pale monkey standing before them. It didn't reach beyond their waists. With clumsy and trembling movements, it turned towards them, mouth half–open. Max took a step back.

  —...thhuuuuu...liiigth — he mumbled like a drunk. Immediately afterward, a yellow torrent was expelled from his throat, with an explosive and torn vomit. They understood right away. He was one of those infected. They had managed to sneak onto the ship. Max put his finger on the trigger.

  —. Get down, you bastard!! – Lexner roared, trembling. The infected lifted his head, and a grimace like a twisted smile appeared on his face. Rows of drool and pus dripped from his maw, and the lumps pulsated with a bubbling crackle.

  —...whyyyy....caaaaantthouuuuuseeeeeeeiiiiitt...??? – he lunged at them like a possessed man, raising his arms and opening a maw as bck as the void. Jets of psma pierced his body, tearing and burning as they passed.

  One of its arms flew off, but it continued to advance. His intestines fell to the ground and he continued to advance. A shot blew half his head off. Only then did he colpse. But the shooting did not stop. Until the body disintegrated in a horrible dispy of strobe lights. Until the transport node was filled with the stench of charred flesh. Until there was nothing left to shoot at, just a pile of angry limbs and entrails still writhing in a pool of murky blood. One by one, the empty magazines fell to the ground.

  —. Cease fire. — Harding bellowed. For a few seconds, they contempted the scene unfolding before their eyes. That thing had taken out four crew members. Four crew members that Max knew. Now, the monster y dead, but that wouldn’t bring back their comrades.

  —. Ayatev, burn that shit off. —

  —. It will be a pleasure, chief. — and a stream of ignited hydrazine silently fell over the remains.