“Again—then inside! Everyone get ready. No mistakes. Do your part!”
She counted aloud with Ajaya, humming with excitement, primed to run. She knew they would succeed. She wouldn’t look back.
On three, she turned. She pumped her legs like pistons. She sprinted for Tom.
Then, the gravity went out.
16
Bergen was sweating profusely. It was stinging his eyes.
It was happening so fast. Too fast, damn it. He shouldn’t have listened to her. He should have gone with her. Why hadn’t he done that?
The next few seconds would be crucial and he’d be cut off from her. He was letting her down. What was he doing?
Jane. He was having a hard time tearing his eyes from her. He’d never seen her like that. She was turning those animals into carcasses like a blonde Lara Croft. The woman looked invincible…like a fucking fantasy.
Where was the prissy librarian now? Goddammit, she was hot.
She should have come inside with them. Maybe the animals would have stuck around, trying to get through the door. Maybe they wouldn’t even have noticed Tom. Maybe there was no hope for Tom, anyway. He hated the thought of her risking everything if Tom was beyond help.
They were almost through the door. Jane’s plan was working. With difficulty, Alan concentrated on his assigned task as she streaked down the corridor toward Tom. He could hear Gibbs’ boot steps pounding for the other door.
He used his tank to block an attack, took another step back, then lunged forward, swinging the tank with vicious, deadly accuracy. All he had to do was keep these little piss-ants from getting through the door.
Unfortunately, the animals had revved things up, scrambling over each other, launching themselves at them. Perhaps they sensed they were about to be cut off from their prey. The sudden retreat probably stimulated their prey drive.
The battle armor Jane had mentioned would have been damn useful at this point. Walsh was such an ass. That little miscalculation was going to go in his next report to Houston. If there was another report to Houston.
His eyes drifted to Jane. There were a bunch of the little bastards hot on her heels.
Walsh was counting down. There wasn’t much time left.
Alan stood stock still, forgetting anything but Jane’s need. He fired, picking off as many of the creatures following her as he could. He felt a slash into his leg. It burned like a mother-fucker. He ignored it.
There was shouting. He ignored that too, completely focused on Jane. Finally, someone grabbed him, pulling him forcefully through the door. It shut in his face even as he lunged forward to take another shot.
He turned to take off sprinting for the other door, but something was wrong. He blinked rapidly.
At first he thought it might be the creature’s venom, that maybe he was hallucinating. It felt like his feet had lifted out from under him. His stomach lurched into his throat and his chest felt full.
He was drifting away from the door, pivoting at a strange angle. He shook his head to clear it. Quickly, the mental processes he’d developed to cope with microgravity kicked in.
“The gravity is malfunctioning,” Ajaya yelled. She was already some distance away, floating at a point midway to the other door. She must have taken off at a dead run as soon as she’d hit the door control, just as he’d planned to do. Gibbs was nearly to the other door.
Bergen suddenly realized that in a room this large, he’d have to anchor himself before he drifted too far from anything he could grab. He pulled up his knees and rotated.
Walsh was wedged into the doorframe with his back against the door and held out a hand. Alan met Walsh’s eyes. They were grim.
Alan snapped to alert with a start. “Oh, fuck. Jane!”
“We’ll do what we can for her,” Walsh said as he pulled Bergen back to the door.
There was nothing to hold on to. This ship was never meant to be a microgravity environment.
“Let’s assess the situation,” Walsh continued tersely. “Open the door, Berg.”
Alan glanced over his shoulder at Ajaya. She was swimming in the air, trying to make progress toward the other door. He huffed. It’d take years to get there that way, but if anyone could, it’d be Ajaya.
He covered the door control with his hand, using as little pressure as possible so he wouldn’t be propelled back into the room.
The door slid up. There was a lot of hissing going on out there, but very little other sound. Walsh swung his tank carefully, deliberately. He was just using enough force to knock the creatures back but not with so much momentum that he would hurl himself into their midst. Alan grabbed the back of Walsh’s flight suit, to keep him anchored.
“Holloway,” Walsh yelled. “Stop flailing around—you’re wasting energy.”
Bergen pulled himself into the doorway. The creatures were floating around in clumps—corpses and live, pissed-off things—spinning, drifting in every direction, caroming into each other in comical slow-motion.
Jane appeared to be ok. She was whirling, arms outstretched, momentum still carrying her down the hall toward Tom. There were creatures all around her, but it didn’t look like anything was too close. She sounded bewildered as she met his eyes briefly before rotating again. “I’m stuck in the middle—I can’t—there’s nothing to push off of—”
He ventured out a little farther, clinging to the doorframe. “You can use your weapon, Jane. Do you have any rounds left?”
She looked at the gun in her hand like she was mystified. “I think so.”
“Try to make yourself aerodynamic—you’ll go farther if you reduce drag—and fire in the opposite direction you want to go. Kill a few of those things for good measure, while you’re at it, too.”
She beamed at him. “That I can do.”
She flopped around, orienting herself. She’d never completely adapted to zero-g, probably never would. He tried not to let his amusement show, not that she was looking.
Bergen glanced over his shoulder. Gibbs had made it to the other door and was tying a length of paracord around a crate. He narrowed his eyes. The crates weren’t floating—they were anchored somehow.
She got herself oriented, roughly parallel with the floor, arms outstretched in front of herself, and fired. She was propelled quite a distance. “That,” she said with a laugh as she started to slow, “was awesome.”
Gibbs was bracing himself in the other doorway, ready to thrust himself toward Tom.
Then she fell out of the air. They all did.
17
Jane slammed into the floor with a nauseating crunch. All the air whoofed out of her with a groan. Her vision narrowed to a spiraling tunnel of light. The pain was a shock. She’d never felt anything like it. She struggled to draw breath, to cling to consciousness, as white-hot agony tore at her throat.
She had a fleeting thought, that she should try not to scream. It might draw the creatures. Was it too late? Had she already done that? She wasn’t sure.
Blood throbbed in her ears. Her vision swam. She pushed herself up on her elbows to assess her situation. She saw her leg at once, curled at an unnatural angle under her. She collapsed back down, pressing her face to the cold, plastic surface of the floor, gathering strength, as hot bile stung the back of her throat.
It could be worse. She wasn’t dead yet.
The gun. Where was the gun? Her hands were empty.
“Jane!” Alan yelled. It was a hoarse, desperate warning.
She should try to reassure him, somehow, but that seemed ludicrous.
Brilliant colors filled her field of vision—like a perfect sunset, in pastel hues of tangerine and magenta. She stared at them in wonder until she realized what she was looking at. A creature. A nepatrox. It was tottering toward her, teeth exposed, regarding her warily.