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It was tempting to take a moment to savor his victory but, as Hale was coming to understand, the price of command was endless responsibility. So he was already thinking about what to do next as Kawecki arrived, followed by a dozen battle-weary Sentinels. It was good to see the platoon sergeant, but something important was missing from the picture. “Where’s Dentweiler?” Hale demanded.

“He ran,” Kawecki answered grimly. “There we were, firing up at the Goliath as it stepped over us, and the bastard ran. I couldn’t chase him without leaving my men. Sorry, sir.”

“You made the right choice. Where did he go? Did anyone see him?”

“Yes, sir,” one of the men answered. “I saw him run into that building over there.”

Hale followed a pointing finger to what had originally been the smelter. Except that the Chimera had converted the structure into what the Intel people assumed was a Processing Center.

“Okay,” Hale replied, turning to Kawecki. “I’ll take six men over for a look-see. Meanwhile, I want you to pull everyone back to the LZ, establish a perimeter, and rig the surviving vehicles for a lift-out. And stay sharp… By the time the VTOLs come back for us, there may be another wave of stinks to cope with.”

Kawecki nodded. “Yes, sir. Danby, you and your men accompany the lieutenant. The rest of you follow me.”

Hale traded the empty Pulse Cannon for a shotgun, and led the squad toward the long narrow Processing Center. He was struck by the fact that the building was intact. As if the Chimera had intentionally avoided firing on it for some reason. And as he stepped in through the truck-sized door he knew why. The place stank to high heaven. A sure sign that a significant number of Chimera were in residence. “Keep your eyes peeled,” he warned. “And let me know if you see anything that looks human.”

It was gloomy inside the building, and almost entirely silent—except for the sound of breathing. Not by one entity, but by many.

The beam projected by Hale’s Rossmore caressed the grimy walls and the feces-smeared floor. Then came an ear-splitting screech as a dog-sized Spinner darted out to attack one of the men. It was immediately put down with a volley of gunfire, but continued to snap its jaws futilely until Danby put three rounds into its brain.

“There’s bound to be more of them,” Hale warned as the group approached a wall and the opening at the center of it. “Put those Augers to work. Let’s find them before they find us.”

Two men carrying Augers came forward. By sweeping their weapons back and forth, they could detect whatever Chimera were up ahead, and they could shoot through walls if necessary. “Bingo!” one of the soldiers said, as his sight lit up.

“Roger that!” the other exclaimed. “There’s at least three or four of them! They look like stinks!”

“Take ′em out,” Hale ordered brusquely, and the Sentinels obeyed. A cacophony of screeching sounds could be heard as the Auger rounds phased through the steel wall and struck their hidden targets. And because the Spinners couldn’t fire back, they were systematically slaughtered.

Finally, when all the Chimera were dead, Hale led the squad through the opening and into the chamber of horrors beyond. It appeared that at least six Spinners had been lying in wait for the humans, and all were dead.

Farther back, standing in rows like a crop waiting to be harvested, were dozens of man-sized cocoons. Each pod incorporated a small vent which allowed the creature within to take in oxygen and vent carbon dioxide. And that was where the rhythmic breathing sounds were coming from. “Check ′em out,” Hale ordered. “We’re looking for Dentweiler and Secretary of War Walker.”

“Yes, sir,” Danby responded. “But we don’t have to open those pods, do we?”

“I’m sorry,” Hale answered sympathetically, “but the answer is yes. And we don’t have a lot of time, so let’s get to it.”

What followed was one of the most disgusting tasks he had ever been required to carry out. Having slung the shotgun across his back, he removed the commando knife from its sheath, and chose a row of cocoons. By starting the cut at the top of each fleshy pod, and running the incision all the way to the floor, it was possible to pry open the cone-shaped structure. That produced a ripping sound, a sudden gush of puslike fluid that splashed his boots, and a horrible, gut-churning smell.

But that was the least of it. Worse yet were the Chimeran pupae within, some of which looked like what they would eventually become, while others remained recognizably human. They were soft, mushy things for the most part, their glassy eyeballs staring out of faces frozen in mid-scream.

Hale had just opened his fourth cocoon when a soldier called from the other side of the room. “I found Mr. Dentweiler, sir! And he’s still alive!”

Hale hurried over to where the soldier was standing. The light from the Sentinel’s weapon was centered on the pupa’s head. And while his glasses were missing, and his features were partially obscured by a filmy material, there was no mistaking Dentweiler’s face. Or the fact that he was still alive, and attempting to speak.

Hale stepped in to make a cut in the membrane that covered the official’s face and rip the filmy stuff away. That was when he saw the staring eyes, the goo that had been injected into Dentweiler’s open mouth, and heard a very faint voice.

“Pleeaasse… Kill meeee.”

The words were breathy, because Dentweiler couldn’t open and close his lips, but they were understandable nevertheless.

“What’s he saying?” Danby inquired from a few feet away.

“He wants us to kill him,” Hale replied matter-of-factly. “He’s already too far gone to be saved, and he knows it.”

“So what will we do?” the noncom wanted to know.

“Grant his wish,” Hale said levelly, as he drew the .44 Magnum. “That’s what I would want. How ′bout you?”

Danby’s throat was dry. He nodded. “Yeah, I guess I would.”

Hale backed away. There was a loud boom as the pistol went off. But instead of passing through the cocoon, the bullet was absorbed. Then, much to his horror, he saw Dentweiler blink.

So Hale ordered his men to stand back, triggered the bullet buried deep within the cocoon, and heard a muffled boom as what was left of the man exploded. Chunks of flesh flew, goo sprayed in every direction, and one of the Sentinels swore as a glob of pus hit him. That was when Kawecki’s voice was heard over the radio. “Echo-Five to Echo-Six… We have four birds ten-out and inbound. Over.”

“Roger that,” Hale replied. “Maintain the perimeter, but load the vehicles, and as many men as you can. We’ll be there soon. Echo-Six out.

“All right,” Hale said as he surveyed the chamber. “Walker’s been here a lot longer, so he won’t be as pretty as Dentweiler was, but we need to find him if we can. Let’s get back to work.”

That announcement produced a nearly unanimous groan, but the soldiers did what they were told, and it was Danby who made the gruesome discovery. “I think I found Walker, sir… But it’s hard to be sure.”

Once Hale was there, standing in front of the partially opened pod, he had to agree. Walker’s features had begun to droop as the chemicals within the cocoon went to work on them, and were barely recognizable.

“Open the cocoon and search the body,” Hale ordered. “And there’s no need to be gentle… He’s dead, and we’re short on time.”

Opening the pod wasn’t a pretty process, and once the body was exposed, Private Quinn had to search it. His features contorted as he ran his hands up and down the slimy corpse, felt a bump, and announced his find. “I have something, sir… Hold on while I cut it out.”