“From that little thing?” Walsh said dismissively.
Ajaya frowned. “Some of the pupa are quite large, Commander.”
“Then let’s get going before they hatch. Move,” Walsh barked.
No one budged.
Gibbs spoke up, “Maybe Jane’s got the right idea. There might be a lot more of these things. They’re going to be hungry, don’t you think? What are they going to eat?”
The nepatrox advanced, hissing and slashing at the air in spirals with its tail. It was closest to Jane. She backed up involuntarily, bumping into Alan. He put a hand on her shoulder and tried to push her behind him. She resisted his gentle shove and stayed put, noting that motion of any kind seemed to enflame the creature’s temper. But even that subtle movement antagonized it. It lunged forward, hissing, clacking its teeth together rhythmically, flaring and pulsing the bizarre, hinged flaps that framed its mouth.
“What else do you know about these creatures, Jane?” Ajaya asked.
Jane felt Alan’s hand on her shoulder, tensing as the nepatrox crept closer.
“They’re extremely aggressive. The stinger contains a paralytic. They prefer to eat their food while it’s still alive.”
Walsh glared at them with disdain. “I’ve seen rats bigger than that thing.” He shrugged off his breathing harness and gripped the strap at the top of the tank, moving deliberately toward the creature.
It held its ground, front claws prancing like an excited dog. The rhythmic gnashing and flapping escalated. It charged.
Walsh was ready. He swung the tank of compressed air like a golf club, striking the animal with a solid whump, sending it flying. It hit the wall and slid to the floor, lifeless.
Jane’s stomach turned over.
“Well, there’s a strategy for you,” Alan said dryly.
Walsh turned and glowered at them. “All right? Move out.”
“Ah, Walsh, you’ve got another little friend,” Gibbs said nervously, gesturing down the hall with his flashlight, revealing another creature emerging from the darkness.
Walsh’s eyebrows came down into a thunderous expression and he pivoted. Alan lifted his light a little higher, to join Gibbs’. Jane gasped. There were actually several creatures approaching Walsh’s location.
One of them was the size of a full-grown labrador retriever. It opened it’s hinged jaw, flaring the winged flaps to a span of three to four feet, then turned and scooped up one of the smaller creatures, choking it down before the thing could even struggle. It flared and pulsed its mouth flaps, letting out a shrieking cry.
The call was taken up by those around it. The chilling sound echoed and was answered again and again from farther and farther back down the hall.
The blood drained from Jane’s head. She felt lightheaded and cold. Her heart thudded and her muscles tensed to run.
The largest nepatrox regarded Walsh intently, its dark eyes gleaming with hunger, its tail swinging in long lazy arcs. It hissed.
“Walsh!” Jane called out. She wasn’t sure if she was warning him or pleading with him at that point. She felt helpless, rooted to the spot where she stood.
Time slowed to a trickle. She felt, rather than saw, Alan behind her rummaging inside his pack for his nine millimeter. Ajaya and Gibbs took up defensive stances, shoulder to shoulder, guns pointed at the end of trembling arms.
The lights came on with a bright flash. Jane flinched and blinked.
The creatures stopped advancing for a second and in that second Walsh fired a deafening shot into the largest animal’s open mouth. Its head exploded into a four-foot radius of gore, the hollow-tipped bullet designed for maximum destruction upon impact. The beast dropped instantly.
The other creatures sprang back at the sound, but quickly recovered, sniffing and hissing around their felled neighbor. Within seconds they’d ripped its carapace apart and were feasting on it.
Bile rose in Jane’s throat and she coughed reflexively. She was glad she hadn’t consumed anything for a few hours. She didn’t have anything to bring up.
Walsh stood there watching them, weapon at his side.
“Walsh!” Jane screamed, “Defensive formation!”
He came to himself with a start. He looked at his weapon, then back at them as though confused.
The others started yelling too, calling for him to come back to the group.
“Jane—get Compton’s gun out of his pack,” Alan urged in her ear.
She grabbed Tom and shoved him behind Ajaya and Gibbs, sliding the pack from his shoulders. She fumbled in the pockets until her fingers closed over the textured grip of Tom’s Beretta. There was a clip already loaded. She scooped up three additional cartridges and slid them into the side pocket of her flight suit. She pulled back the slide, and let it spring back into place, effectively loading the first round, then brushed her thumb over the safety, just like she’d been taught.
“You got it, Jane?” Alan’s eyes were wide and dilated. He jerked his head back toward the way they’d come. “Take Compton back to the deck transport, where he’ll be safe. We’ll never make it to the capsule.”
She started to protest, but weapons fire cut off any sound she might make. It was overwhelmingly loud in such an enclosed space. She looked up. Walsh had returned to them with more creatures in pursuit.
As a group, they retreated. The four of them fired into a growing mass of hungry animals, trying to keep them at bay. There seemed to be more arriving every second.
Jane glanced back. The hall behind them was clear.
“I’m not getting much penetration here!” Gibbs yelled.
“Aim for an open mouth!” Walsh barked. “It’s their weakest point! When you empty that cartridge, load armor piercing rounds!”
Alan shouted, “For the record, I’m very uncomfortable firing ballistics inside a space ship!”
Jane grabbed a hold of Tom’s arm and pulled. He took a single staggering step and stopped.
She pulled again. He resisted, swaying.
Gibbs backed into Tom and there was a precarious moment when it seemed like Tom might go down. Jane wrapped her arms around him, supporting his weight so he wouldn’t pitch forward and tried to ease him into movement.
But his legs just crumpled under him. He fell to his knees and Jane buckled too, under his weight. She struggled for a long, desperate moment, trying ineffectually to lift him back to his feet. He was dead weight against her.
“Jane!” Alan’s face was contorted in a tortured expression. “We’ll have to leave him.”
Gibbs and Ajaya kept looking back at her, desperation plain on their faces. They needed to move. The nepatrox were relentlessly pressing them back.
She shook her head in denial and eased Tom to the floor. She slipped the weapon in a pocket, grasped Tom’s arm, and pulled with everything she had, dragging him across the floor, back the way they’d come.
She pulled with a strength she didn’t know she had, Tom’s inert frame trailing behind her, ducking and swerving to avoid the slimy tendrils dropping from the ceiling. She glanced back, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She’d managed at least 100 feet back toward the deck transport. She’d hoped the others would be right behind her, but there was still a lot of distance between them.
She heard Ajaya declare, “Cover me—reloading.”
Seconds later, Alan yelled, “I’m out of ammo.”
Jane stopped in her tracks and turned, her hand going to her pocket and the clips there, but Gibbs had already passed Alan another clip. He was reloading.
“Make every round count!” Walsh roared.
Those few moments gave the creatures an opening. They surged forward, a few of them circling around Alan to attack from behind.