"Wait a second," Sartoris said. "You're telling me there's ten thousand more of those nightmares staggering around out there?"
"Oh my goodness, no. Some of us did manage to escape, obviously-or tried to, and a few showed signs of natural immunity. Using their blood, our medical officers were able to synthesize an anti-virus, as I'm guessing yours probably did, too.
based on the fact that you're still here."
Sartoris just grunted, not inclined to go into his own random immunity to the sickness. Gorrister didn't even seem to notice.
"We sealed off part of the ship," he said, "and injected ourselves with the anti-virus. At first it seemed like there would be enough to go around." Another thin and ghastly attempt at a smile: "It didn't last as long as we'd hoped. There was more in the bio-lab, but of course we couldn't get back to retrieve it. That was when the plan began to change somewhat. Of course many of the crew were eaten before they could change over-torn to pieces and. well, consumed, I suppose is the word."
Gorrister swallowed, seeming to find something particularly distasteful in this part of his narrative.
"At first we tried to gather up the remains-we put them in a waste facility, chopped them up, thought it might be a way to keep them from changing, you know, and even that isn't always successful. But in the end we were outnumbered and there really wasn't anything to do but run." He flashed a cold, flat glance up at Sartoris. "Until they found out how to activate the tractor beam."
"They can think?" Sartoris envisioned the screaming things staggering around outside the ship, pounding and firing at it almost randomly with blasters. "That's crazy."
"Oh, it's madness," Gorrister agreed, blinking at him with the mildest of curiosity. "All I know is that they were waiting for us inside the hangar when we came back in. The first man out of the hatch got his head ripped off at the shoulders." He licked his lips. "After that we sealed ourselves back in, sent a distress signal, and settled in to wait."
"How long have you been trapped here?"
"Ten weeks."
Sartoris felt his mouth drop open-he couldn't help it. "You mean you've been canned up here inside this ship for ten weeks?"
"There were thirty of us originally. Now we're down to seven, including myself." The commander sighed, eliminating what sounded like the last of the air from his lungs, and sagged against the bulkhead behind him again. His filthy uniform was so big on his now emaciated body that it bulked up almost comically around the shoulders, like a child playing dress-up. "We keep trying to make comm contact but all frequencies are jammed. I believe that also might be a deliberate countermeasure on their part." When his eyes found Sartoris's again, they were colorless and dispassionate, the eyes of a man delivering a lecture that he'd prepared years earlier. "You asked earlier how I thought they could activate the tractor beam. They learn, you see. That's part of it."
"Those things out there?" Sartoris asked. "But they're. animals."
"In the beginning perhaps. But consider-the ones that changed onboard the Destroyer ten weeks ago don't even bother attacking this shuttle's reinforced durasteel armor with blasters anymore. They've already grasped the fact that it doesn't work. It's the new arrivals, the inmates and prison guards, who are out there shooting at us now. and if you listen, you'll see that they've already stopped, too." He snapped his fingers, a brittle pop. "That's how quickly their behavior changes."
Sartoris realized he was right. The blasterfire outside the shuttle had stopped, just as Gorrister had predicted.
"I think it has something to do with the sickness," the commander said, "the way it was initially designed. They form clusters, tribes. swarm. And they communicate with one another. I'm sure you've heard it."
Sartoris thought of the screaming that he'd heard, the weird cyclic quality of it, back-and-forth call-and-response in the hangar.
"And that way they are all able to adapt at the same time," Gorrister said, "as one, like a kind of systemwide upgrade, do you see?"
Sartoris shook his head. "What are you talking about, designed? You mean somebody created all this on purpose?"
Gorrister studied him in silence for a moment, with what might have been the tiniest of smirks.
"Na¯ve, aren't you?" he asked. "I told you we were carrying top-secret weapons. How long have you served the Empire?"
Sartoris didn't bother to provide an answer. He'd noticed something else that bothered him even more than that smirk on the man's face. Throughout the course of their conversation, his fellow soldiers had begun edging slowly closer to him, and they were licking their lips compulsively, over and over.
Sartoris squirmed back a little farther. For the first time his gaze fell on the stack of uniforms folded neatly on the seat in the corner.
"What happened to the rest of your men?" he asked.
"You must understand." Gorrister's voice was soft now, no longer mocking; in fact it was nearly sympathetic. "We had ample water here inside the shuttle but precious little food, and it's been ten weeks. It was nothing more than a simple matter of survival. We were starving, you see."
Sartoris frowned. The men were getting to their feet now. It suddenly occurred to him that they might have been sitting here saving their strength until this moment.
"Hold it." He stood up, backing away, and felt his shoulders hit the wall behind him. "We're not like them."
"Of course not," Gorrister murmured, dismissing the idea. "We drew lots. To keep things fair. We gave each man a quick, humane death. At first we threw the remains out there…" He nodded above, at the emergency hatch."… to those things, as if that might somehow satisfy them. But it only made them come back. So we ate the remains, too. In the end we sucked the marrow from the bones. But none of my men felt any pain, I promise." One emaciated hand slipped into his uniform jacket and produced a small transdermal patch. "And neither will you."
"What is that?"
"Norbutal," Gorrister whispered. "A paralytic. You'll just go to sleep. And when we're rescued, the Emperor will recognize your sacrifice with the highest of honors."
Sartoris started to say something else.
He realized that the commander had told him there were six other men and he only saw four of them.
Then he felt a pair of hands grabbing him from behind, pinning his arms behind his back.
Chapter 36
Lab Rat
Zahara wasn't sure how long she'd been running. Lactic acid cramped her thighs and calves, oxygen debt reaching the point where it cried out, no longer able to be ignored, and she'd lost track of where she was-the end of another protracted corridor somewhere deep in the Star Destroyer's main hangar level, but farther back. With no sense of direction and no destination, she guessed it was just a matter of time until something caught up with her.
She stopped and leaned against the wall, temples throbbing, and whooped in a series of deep breaths. Her throat and lungs ached, and the root of her tongue had that sprained, dizzy feeling it got when she'd overtaxed herself. Counting her heartbeats, she made herself calm down, calm down, just calm down.
She held her breath and listened for screams. Heard none.
The corridor was absolutely silent.
Up ahead, blocking the way, were what appeared to be stacks of crates. She started walking toward them, feeling marginally steadier now that she'd taken a rest, and stopped at the hatchway on her left, looking at the sign posted over it.
BIO-LAB 242
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
Zahara glanced down at the security pad that someone had pried from the wall, dangling on stalks of variegated wires. With the strong sense that what she was about to do was not at all wise, she put her elbow to the hatch itself and forced it open.