The pounding rhythm from the CH-53E Super Stallion’s three engines pulsing through Alex’s body like sound waves from a blasting subwoofer. Soldiers and their gear packed the helicopter’s interior. Shepherd, Nicole, and the rest of Echo Team sat on either side of Alex while Webb and the NEA’s special operations unit occupied the opposite side of the cabin. All of them wore cold weather jackets and thick gloves along with their ballistic vests and helmets. The multiple layers did little to ward off the freezing Antarctic air. Icebergs resembling upside-down mountains floated through the waters. In the distance, the sheer cliffs of the Antarctic Peninsula rose from the ocean.

They were flying toward the now immobile USS Ronald Reagan to investigate the vessel and disable its ability to communicate with the Directorate’s rogue outposts in North America. Word of the distress call had spread after the meeting thirty-six hours earlier. At first, no one could say if something had gone wrong or if they were walking into a trap. Then satellite imagery had arrived showing the Reagan beached against an iceberg the size of Rhode Island. Something had obviously gone wrong onboard the ship. But what?

Everyone on the CH-53 was nervous. They were going into the unknown far from the protection and familiarity of the Independence. If something went wrong, they were on their own. In a way, Alex thought, this mission was the same as New York, as Kansas City to a degree, and certainly Fort Riley. Yet this felt different. What would they find onboard the supercarrier? The imagery showed an empty flight deck but below remained a mystery.

Everyone’s dead, her voice spoke softly. You saw it. You were there. You helped.

Her mother’s nightmare warning kept returning as well – a warning that had frightened Martin enough to consider turning back to North America. He had almost forbidden her from departing on this mission but she refused to stay behind if the team was going into danger. She was also glad to wear a uniform again and to be part of Echo Team.

Be careful, Alexandra. Those were Martin’s last words before she had hurried onto the Independence’s flight deck and up the ramp of the CH-53. They were the same words her father had used before Echo’s departure to New York.

“Spotted dead ahead,” the pilot spoke over her headset.

Alex leaned forward to look out the cockpit windows. At first, there was only the grey sky but then the helicopter’s nose tilted down and she saw the Reagan’s coffin-shaped silhouette trapped in ice.

“Deck’s empty,” the pilot said. “Going for a landing near the tower. Expect touchdown in two minutes.”

“Unless their point defenses blow us out of the air first,” Murray grumbled. A few of the soldiers nodded grimly. Shepherd and Morgan gave him a sharp glare.

Alex fiddled with her carbine, an M4A1, standard issue for the NEA and most of the Directorate’s soldiers. The weapon was heavier than the SCAR and not quite as ergonomic. I miss the old fishgun, she thought nostalgically. She drew back on the charging handle to peek into the M4’s chamber. The dull bronze of a bullet cartridge appeared through the ejection port. She released the handle and checked to ensure the weapon was on safe.

“One minute,” the pilot said.

“Establish a perimeter on touchdown,” Morgan said. “I want eyes on the tower. Shepherd, your people cover the deck oriented bow to midship.”

“Copy,” Shepherd said.

Alex thought back to Kansas City, to their flight through the fiery skies in the Osprey, and the landing into the middle of the war zone. There had been twelve of them on that mission. Now there were only seven. She prayed that number would hold steady.

The helicopter descended. The superstructure appeared beyond the windows. The tower was dark. No movement through the bridge windows. Frigid air gusted into the cabin as the ramp lowered. Then with a jolt, they were down.

The NEA team sprung to their feet and dashed down the ramp. Shepherd gestured out onto the deck, and the rest of Echo followed. The helicopter’s rotor wash shoved her with the force of a hurricane. She pictured herself tumbling through the air and toppling overboard. The flight deck was slick with ice. She struggled to maintain her footing while following Nicole. The team hurried into the gap in the NEA’s perimeter, covering from the ship’s stern to the start of the superstructure.

The deck was empty. No aircraft, no vehicles, and no other soldiers or sailors.

The CH-53’s rotors slowed to a halt as the engines spooled down. Soon, the turbine roar receded against the whistling of the Arctic breeze.

“Where the hell is everyone?” Nicole whispered.

Morgan started to call out, “Shepherd—” Wind swept across the deck, howling as it passed around the superstructure and through the sensor masts high above. The quiet returned once the gust settled. Morgan continued in a tense voice, “I want your team to pull security here. We’re going in.”

“Great.” Wilson rubbed his gloved hands together and blew into them.

“We’ll check in every ten minutes,” Morgan said. “Alpha will cover the tower and Bravo will check below.” He turned to Webb. “Sir, are coming with us?”

He shifted his gaze between Alex and Nicole. “No.”

“We’ll keep in touch.”

“Might be difficult,” Atkins said.

“What?”

“Radios are down.”

Morgan checked his headset and handheld radio, “This is Krait-6, radio check, over.” Silence from the other radios. He looked at Atkins. “Do we have contact with the Independence?”

Atkins shook his head.

Morgan looked nervously at Webb. “Sir, if we’re out of contact…”

“We’ll work on it out here,” Webb said. “Get inside and conduct a search. Be back in twenty minutes. If you make contact with any hostile forces, disengage immediately and get out.”

“Yes, sir.”

Morgan’s team assembled at the entrance into the superstructure. Four of them stacked at the door while a fifth pulled it open. The hinges scraped, metal on metal, evoking nails across a chalkboard. The team was inside within moments. Alex gripped her weapon, expecting to hear screams, shouting, and gunfire. But there was only the hollow echo of the men’s footsteps.

“Let’s get a perimeter,” Shepherd said. “Move around if you need to. Stay warm but keep an eye out.” The team spread into a rough circle around the CH-53. Alex envied the pilot and copilot. The helicopter’s interior was cold but at least the cockpit offered protection from the winds.

Alex kept close to Nicole. Her friend was the only one without a weapon. They approached Webb who stood looking up at the bridge. “You know you’re on your own now, Colonel,” Nicole said with amusement. “Aren’t you worried?”

Webb did not look down. “No.”

Nicole grinned. “And what would you do if all of us decided to shoot you and hijack the bird?”

He turned to stare at Nicole. “I think I proved at Fort Riley that I can defend myself adequately.”

Nicole put her hand on his arm. “You know, Colonel, we could have done some great things if you hadn’t gone to the dark side.”

“I’d be dead if I hadn’t escaped from you people. We would never work together. The NEA doesn’t condone your type of operations.”

Nicole chuckled. “Who said anything about working together?” She gave him a sly smile and walked off.

Alex watched Webb watch Nicole. His expression remained impassive as far as she could tell but she wondered about his eyes behind the black membrane.

Nicole went to the CH-53’s ramp and sat. “Except for finally getting you laid, this trip sure sucks. They could have just let me sleep. What the hell am I going to do? Kill everyone on the Independence and sail it home?”

“I’m pretty sure that is what they were worried about,” Alex said.

“Because everyone knows I can single-handedly captain a warship, right?”

Alex went to Atkins, who was working on one of the radios they had brought from the Independence. He removed the device’s rear panel and then yanked out the brick-like battery. He rubbed at the contacts, blew on them, and inserted the battery back into the radio.

“Any luck?” she said.

Atkins fiddled with the keypad and several of the switches before speaking into the handset. He sighed. “Nope. I think we’re getting jammed but it isn’t like any jamming I’ve seen.”

“What do you mean?”

“The net is just dead. No static, no nothing. None of the radios can broadcast or receive but they’re all fine from a technical standpoint.” He looked around and then whispered, “Honestly, I just want to get the heck out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”

“Me, too.”

She spotted Shepherd near the edge of the deck. He was looking down at the glaciers. Wilson stood beside him with his hands tucked beneath his ballistic vest and his weapon hanging from his sling. He seemed more worried about the cold than any potential threats. She would have felt the same if not for the tingling at the base of her skull, the disquieting stillness, and the feeling something here had gone horribly wrong.

“See anything?” Shepherd said to Alex. “Something out of place since you were here last?”

“The drones were on deck last time. That’s the only thing that’s changed. That and all the people that are missing.”

“We should look into sailing this thing back with us,” Wilson said. “I bet it would be a good bullet point for your next evaluation: recovered nuclear-powered aircraft carrier USS Ronald Reagan worth five billion USD.”

“I’m not counting much on career progression,” Shepherd said dryly.

They went to the superstructure and stood near the open bulkhead door. Wilson raised his carbine and shined the combat light inside. The brilliant beam illuminated the interior. Alex half expected to see bones or bodies but there was nothing. Wilson switched off the light and again buried his hands into his vest. “Almost wish we would make contact with something.”

Alex continued to stare into the darkness, remembering her dream. For an instant, the walls seemed to gleam as if slick with blood. She hurried away.

“Everything all right?” Shepherd said.

“It’s just this place,” she said, putting her hand on the superstructure. “That dream. I can’t help but—”

Alex cried out as pain raced from up her arm from her palm to her shoulder. Her first thought was that her blood was turning to ice and that her skin had frozen solid. She tried to recoil from the bulkhead but her fingers stuck to the steel.

A red curtain dropped over her vision as an explosive thunderclap resounded from above the carrier. The superstructure brightened from the flash of lighting. The CH-53 and everyone on the flight deck were gone. Yet the carrier remained, listing with the violent waves that crashed against the hull and sent white spray across the deck. A black V-22 Osprey had replaced the NEA’s Super Stallion. The Osprey’s twin rotors blasted rain and ocean water against the superstructure.

Three figures resolved like ghosts from the darkness. Agent Ellzey was the first to emerge from the tower. His reptilian green eyes glowed with anticipation as he grinned up at the thunderheads. A young man wearing jeans, a faded sweatshirt, and a baseball cap followed behind him. Another flicker of lightning illuminated the deck and emphasized the pale, almost translucent white, of the man’s skin. He smiled with wonder as his gaze shifted between the Osprey, the churning atmosphere overhead, and the crashing waves. Then General Henry Bedford stepped out of the superstructure. He strode across the deck, brushing between Ellzey and the albino-skinned teenager. He did not appear to notice the rain, the waves, or the howling scream of the Osprey’s turbines.

“Why the hurry, General?” Ellzey shouted over the noise. “Don’t you want a final look?”

“This ship doesn’t interest me.” Bedford’s voice carried a venom matching his expression.

“Don’t you want to pay respects before these brave young men and women make the ultimate sacrifice for the Directorate?”

“These are your people, not mine. The Committee made this decision. All I’m interested in is my daughter.”

Ellzey snorted. “You’ll see her soon enough.”

Bedford strode through the rotor wash and climbed into the Osprey. Ellzey spoke briefly to the young man and then followed Bedford. The young man looked around nervously as if scared to be alone. He stood in place as the pulsing gusts from the Osprey intensified. The aircraft taxied down the flight deck and then ascended into the storm. Alex looked again at the young man. He was only feet away but did not seem to notice her presence. He held a knife in his hand. He smiled.

“No!” Alex screamed.

All at once, she was back in the lower concourse of the George Washington Bridge Bus Terminal. A man was on his knees holding a serrated knife. He plunged the blade into his neck. She was on the overpass above Interstate-70 in Kansas City. Another young man smiled at her and slit his throat. Now she was back on the flight deck. This man, barely more than a boy, raised his knife. She screamed for him to stop. He did not hear.

Alex reached out but it was too late. The knife plunged through flesh, through one side of his neck and out the other. He pulled it forward, cutting through his throat and spilling blood like a waterfall. The knife clattered to the deck. The boy followed, collapsing face-first into the red pool. His baseball cap fell off and blew away into the ocean.

Alex tried to cover her eyes, to look away, but she couldn’t move. The whispers came, quiet at first but swelling to a crescendo of alien words overriding the waves and lightning and thunder. The blood steamed and bubbled before evaporating. Then the boy’s skin dissolved. Muscles and organs followed until only a skeleton in jeans and a sweatshirt remained. The whispers intensified. Lightning struck the sensor mast atop the bridge. And suddenly, Alex was below deck. Screams echoed in the bloody corridors. A face resolved against the blinking emergency lights: a wasted woman, bald, gaunt, and desperate.

No! her mother cried. Alex, you can’t come here! They’re all wrong! Everyone! Even John has no idea!

Alex tried to respond, tried to question the warning and its meaning. Then the red curtain lifted and she was kneeling on the deck. Her hands were shaking. The black lines of her blood vessels protruded from her wrists and further down her arms.

“Alex!” Shepherd knelt and tried to take her hand. She recoiled and fell back against the cold steel of the superstructure. Nicole, Webb, and the rest of the team clustered around. Shepherd hesitated before moving closer. She thought about running, about going to the edge of the ship and leaping to the ice a hundred feet below.

It’s too late, a voice spoke, much too late for that.

Nicole crouched beside Shepherd, reached out, and touched Alex’s knee. “Hey, you in there? Talk to me, Bedford.”

Alex nodded. It was all she could do, unable to speak or make anything but the slightest of movements.

“Get your people back here,” Shepherd said to Webb. “We need to leave.”

Rapid footsteps approached from the bulkhead door. Captain Morgan and five members of his team rushed out onto the deck as if summoned by Shepherd’s command. Their faces were white. Bile trickled down one man’s ballistic vest.

“Jesus,” Morgan moaned, looking as if about to collapse. “Oh, Jesus.”

“Pull it together,” Webb said harshly. “What happened?”

“They’re all dead. Everyone. No one’s alive in there. We tried to get to the bridge. But… bodies everywhere. And blood. It’s like they’ve all been picked clean. Just bones and blood. Just like those pictures from Kansas City.”

Alex noticed the men’s boots tracking bloody prints across the deck.

“All right,” Webb said. “We’re leaving once the rest of the team gets back. The Independence can sink this thing.”

“Alex?” Shepherd gave her shoulder a gentle shake.

She couldn’t answer. She felt something moving just beneath her skin. The sensation was uncomfortable, not exactly painful, and yet she knew the feeling would drive her mad if it continued. She tried to ask Shepherd for help but all that came was a broken murmur.

“Help me pick her up,” Nicole said urgently. “Let’s get her onboard.” Nicole disconnected Alex’s sling and took her weapon. She grabbed one of Alex’s hands, bringing the wrist back into Alex’s field of vision. Alex stared at the pulsing artery, which resembled a worm crawling through her arm. Her vision darkened. The world shrank as she retreated into the safety of her mind. Webb appeared at Nicole’s side, pushed her away, and looked into Alex’s eyes. Then he reached out his palm and pressed it hard to her forehead.

---

Webb slams backward across the flight deck and slams into the CH-53, leaving a dent in the side of the airframe. Alex – or whatever is now in control – stands and stares at the surrounding figures. Nicole, the closest, takes a nervous step back. She knows Alex is gone. Morgan raises his carbine. The weapon shatters. His ballistic vest, helmet, and protective goggles catch most of the sharp debris but he screams as a fragment of the barrel lacerates his cheek to his ear. He grabs his face and collapses to his knees. Blood leaks through his fingers. The other men drop their weapons.

Alex watches this scene with confusion. She is sitting with her legs close to her body and her arms around her knees. Everything is black except for a projector screen showing the flight deck, the NEA soldiers fleeing, and Nicole and Shepherd and the team staring at her with apprehension. This is the safe corner of her mind. She came here once while in DC, when the hunger overpowered her and she could no longer fight. But this isn’t where she wants to be now. She needs to wrest back control and take charge of her body and her abilities. Except she can’t move, can’t do anything but watch even as she tries to scream at everyone to run, to get out of sight before the hunger consumes them.

Don’t hurt them! she tries to beg. Don’t hurt them. Please, don’t hurt them.

The darkness has taken over. Black lines form bulging networks beneath her flesh. Her eyes are voids. And her abilities have returned. She stares at her team. The hunger lurks in the background but she is already full of energy, stuffed thanks to the death and screams of the Reagan’s crew. She could take them anyway but… something much more appealing resides beneath the flight deck. She turns and walks through the bulkhead door. Shepherd starts to follow. She whirls around. His rapidly beating heart, his arteries and organs and muscles and bones all transpose against his figure.

No! she screams. Please!

The request is heard.

She turns from Shepherd and continues into the darkness of the superstructure. He does not follow, or at least not close enough for her to care.

The Reagan’s interior is dark. The air is cold but she finds this pleasing. The walls and ceiling and floor glow a subtle red allowing her to see in the darkness. A beam of light appears down the hallway. The light sweeps the corridor and grazes her face. Footsteps approach: six men in NEA uniforms, the rest of Captain Morgan’s team.

“Get out of her way!” someone calls from behind.

The men halt and stare. One soldier starts to raise his weapon but the man beside him shoves the barrel toward the ground. They retreat against the walls as if trying to slip through the bulkheads to get out of her way. She passes them without incident.

Alex tries to stand and surprisingly finds the paralysis gone. She gets up and staggers toward the projection view of the outside world. If she can just get through that screen, she’ll be back in control. Except then her fingers pass through the scene in the moment before she is again sitting with her legs pulled close and her arms around her knees.

Stop.

The voice is flat and empty of emotion but she perceives the warning, knows something worse and more painful will happen if she tries again.

Outside, she has descended a ladder well. She is below deck and moving through another corridor. Spatters and smears of blood cover the floor and ceiling. Bones are everywhere, some persisting as skeletons wearing naval uniforms while others lay strewn about like garbage. But not all of the sailors are skeletons; some retain flesh and muscle. She passes a man who is intact except for his face, stripped down to bone. Strands of muscle hold his jaw half attached to his skull. His detached tongue, split almost in two, dangles from his teeth.

Alex is vaguely aware of people following her, their footsteps descending the ladder well. A muffled thrum reverberates through the bulkheads: the beat of the CH-53’s engines.

The blood and bones lessen as they come to the end of the hallway and a closed bulkhead door. A sailor’s corpse blocks their path. His severed arm hangs gripping the door handle. The rest of his body is half-gone. His face is bloody but undamaged, eyes staring at the ceiling. As she reaches him, the rest of his flesh and everything beneath dissolves. Alex retches as she tastes something like rotten steak.

The bulkhead buckles as the door breaks from its hinges and topples into the next room. They are below deck in the carrier’s hangar. The drones sit in long rows, wingtip-to-wingtip, within the cavernous space. She walks to the first aircraft and sees her reflection in the glossy surface. Her eyes are solid black. The bulging blood vessels in her face pulse as if preparing to burst through her skin.

Her mind breaks through the drone’s fuselage, rushing past panels, screws, rivets, weapons bays and circuitry. She comes to the storm cloud blur at the machine’s center. High-pitched wails of pain protest her invasion. Alex feels the hunger although it is no longer so much hunger as desire. This is how she felt in Shepherd's arms as his hands caressed her body and his lips pressed against hers. She wants more and knows that the fulfillment of that desire – the climax – is inside the drone, inside the blurry darkness.

The projection screen in her mindspace vanishes and gives way to that same dim and indistinct aura. Alex stands in front of the floating darkness just as her outside self stands in front of the drone.

Take it, the voice says.

Don’t do this, Alex, her mother says. Don’t let it happen again.

Alex hesitates; the words are soft but powerful.

Take it, the voice repeats.

The hunger-desire intensifies. Her body tingles uncomfortably, urging her forward. Alex tries to focus on her mother’s warning, on the beautiful face and the confident smile. But all she can see and hear is the shadowy cloud and faint whispers in the background.

She steps forward. Her hands plunge into the darkness. Black liquid leaks through her fingers, down her arms, and then sprays out to cover her body. An agonizing scream resounds within her consciousness and throughout the hangar, the shriek of a helpless animal dying at the claws and teeth of a predator. The blur shrinks and resolves into a black crystalline shard. She snatches it to her mouth and bites down. The pleasure is immediate and intense. She falls to her knees and closes her eyes. She smiles.

Outside her mind, the drone collapses in on itself as if vanishing into a black hole at its center. The wings bend and turn inward. The landing gear snap and bury themselves into their housings. The triangular fuselage crumples like a sheet of foil. All that remains is a twisted ball of black steel and aluminum.

Alex moves on to the next drone. Again, a blurry aura replaces the projector screen and her view of the hangar. Take it, the voice says. Alex reaches in and tears it apart, ignoring the dying screams. She retrieves the shard and consumes it. Her outside self wades through the first row of drones. Alex takes each of them. The hangar trembles. Fissures split open through the carrier’s hull, allowing rays of light to cut through the darkness of the hangar. The thrumming howl from the CH-53 escalates as the bulkheads break apart.

“Bedford, what the shit are you doing?!” Alex hears Nicole but remains focused on the drones, on the desire for more, the hunger.

“Alex!” Shepherd now. “Alex, listen to me! We have to go!”

Alex cannot see them but she is aware of their presence. She is aware they are standing at the entrance into the hangar near the broken bulkhead door. Webb is there, too. Blood covers the side of his face and trickles from his nose. He is trying to concentrate and interfere with her abilities. His efforts are useless.

“Do something!” Nicole shouts at him.

“I can’t!” Webb says. “We need to get the hell out of here! Leave her!”

“You men are goddam useless.”

The starboard hangar walls buckle outward and then rip free and crash to the ice, shattering through the glacier into the freezing waters. Reagan shakes as if at the epicenter of an earthquake and then begins to list. Light pours into the hangar from the great wound. Several drones slide through the break into the ocean. She allows the broken shells of the ones she has already consumed to fall and shatter on the ice. The others, she holds in the air, leaving them floating as she approaches and brings the black auras into her mind. The power is nearing a peak. Her skin is hot and tingling. Her brow and hair glisten with sweat but she wants more.

A hand touched her shoulder. She whirls to see Nicole. Her friend’s other hand presses against the side of her face. She lashes out. Nicole jerks back through the air, slamming into Shepherd and tossing both of them into the bulkhead. Alex turns back to the drones. Less than a dozen of them remain. The breach in the hull widens as great clefts and fractures spread through the steel.

“Snap out of it!” Nicole screams.

Alex hesitates. The voice is coming from inside her head. Her outside self looks back to the door. Nicole is on the ground with Shepherd checking her pulse. She is not moving. Nicole persists, “We need to get out of here now!”

Nicole appears inside next to Alex and slaps her hard in the face. Alex recoils and falls to the floor. One of the dark blurry storm clouds appears behind her friend. She gets up to take it. Nicole slaps her again. The pain brings tears to Alex’s eyes. “Wake the hell up!” Nicole shouts. “Whatever the hell is going on, end it!”

Alex needs to reach the darkness behind her friend, needs to tear into it and consume what is inside. She is willing to fight or kill to get there.

“You’re breaking this place apart! We’re all going to die here unless you snap out of it!”

Alex pushes past Nicole, who grabs her and shoves her to the ground. Nicole raises her palm again. Alex screams in anger, and Nicole’s hand shatters into bone and muscle and blood. She pounces on Nicole and grabs her friend’s throat, burying her nails into the skin. Nicole spits in her face. “Screw you, Bedford!”

“Go away!” Alex gets up and continues toward the darkness. Suddenly, she is face flat on the ground and Nicole is on her back. Blood leaks from Nicole’s neck and pours out from the gory stump at the end of her right arm. Alex tries to struggle away. Then Nicole shoves the remains of her hand into Alex’s face. The blood gushes into her eyes and blinds her. Nicole clamps her arm around Alex’s neck.

“We’re leaving whether you like it or not!”

“No!” Alex screams.

Her mindspace is shaking. The blur has vanished and given way to the projector screen, which shows her outside self standing absolutely still. The entity in charge is no longer interested in the drones; something powerful and much more filling – Nicole Serrano – has gained its attention. Except it cannot reach Nicole from the collapsing hangar. The screen in Alex’s mind abruptly disappears.

Alex is weightless. The blood clears from her vision. Nicole’s chokehold weakens and then disappears. Alex turns to see a black tentacle enveloping her friend’s torso. Nicole’s blood hangs in the air, leaving a trail of red droplets as the giant appendage pulls her away. Nicole’s face is dissolving. She stares at Alex in silence. Then Nicole’s flesh, her eyes, muscles, and everything else dissolve, leaving behind an empty and gaping skull.

---

Alex returned to the USS Ronald Reagan. An explosion from below shook the entirety of the hangar. The floor near the bow tore open, releasing a billowing inferno. The flames spread along the hangar’s ceiling and diverted out the flight elevator into the open atmosphere. The violent shaking and listing hull forced Alex to kneel to maintain her balance. One of the remaining drones toppled out the rupture in the side of the hull.

“Alex!” Shepherd ran to her and hauled her to her feet. He studied her eyes before continuing, “We need to go!”

Nicole lay against the bulkhead near to the door. Her face and hand were intact but she wasn’t moving. Alex broke away from Shepherd and ran to Nicole.

“What the hell did you do?” Webb said while wiping at the blood on his face. He picked up Nicole and hefted her over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.

“Nicki!” Alex took her friend’s hand, the same hand she had obliterated in her mind, and squeezed. Nicole’s skin was ice cold. Alex looked at Webb. “Is she…?”

“She’s alive,” Webb said.

Another explosion rocked the ship. Shepherd took Alex by the arm. “Let’s get moving before we go down with this place.”

They departed the hangar with Webb in the lead. Alex tried not to look at the bodies lining the corridor but it was impossible to avert her eyes. Shepherd helped Webb carry Nicole up the ladder well. Soon, they emerged outside. Fire and smoke from the flight elevator rose into the Antarctic sky. The flight deck sat canted with the port side high in the air and the starboard side sinking closer and closer toward the icy waters. The team stood waiting but the CH-53 was gone. She looked around and saw the helicopter hovering near the rear of the flight deck.

“Damn pilots said they’d wait but they weren’t staying on the deck!” Murray shouted.

Shepherd yelled back, “You should have gotten everyone onboard!”

“Hell no, sir,” Wilson said. “All or none.”

Flames erupted from the superstructure. Shards of glass and metal fell to the deck. As one, all of them ran toward the CH-53. The helicopter spun, and for a moment, Alex thought it was about to leave. Then she spotted Morgan with a bloody bandage over his cheek standing inside near the open ramp. He waved for them to hurry. Webb was ahead of her but slipped going uphill on the deck. Nicole fell from his shoulders and crashed down like a ragdoll. Alex was at her friend’s side before Webb could recover. She bent to grab Nicole but then she heard a staccato roar like a chainsaw revving against her eardrums.

Radiant tracers ripped into CH-53, raking it from the cockpit to the ramp. One of the NEA soldiers beside Morgan fell in a haze of blood as the rounds tore apart his chest. The helicopter tilted to its side and started to spin, coming in over the deck and passing only feet above Alex and Webb and the team. Then the CH-53 collided with the Reagan’s bridge and exploded. Fire consumed the upper half of the superstructure. The sensor mast bent and snapped at its base, falling and breaking apart on the flight deck. A burning, flailing body tumbled from the wreckage. Alex could not tell if it was Morgan or someone else.

A pulsing howl replaced the turbine roar from the CH-53. Alex at first thought she saw a dark bird soaring through the haze. Then she recognized the Osprey’s silhouette. The aircraft came in low as the nacelles swung upward. Steam rose from the barrels of the chain gun beneath its nose. The Osprey hovered only meters away with the ramp down to touch the deck. A man in black fatigues jumped out and ran toward Alex.

“Good show!” Jack Ellzey shouted. “You can thank me for this daring rescue once we’re in the air!”

“Bastard!” Webb rushed Ellzey, who grinned and disappeared from Alex’s side. The next thing Alex knew, Webb was on the deck unconscious with Ellzey standing above him. He drew his handgun and pointed it at Webb’s skull.

“Wait!” Alex yelled. The weapon flew from Ellzey’s grasp. He looked at her with a puzzled expression but he shook his head, picked up Webb, and ran toward the Osprey. The rest of the team followed except for Shepherd and Murray, who ran to Alex. Murray bent and hoisted Nicole over his shoulders. Alex and Shepherd stared at each other for a long moment and then followed Murray as he hauled Nicole to the Osprey. Once they were all inside, the aircraft lifted into the sky.

A chain of concussive blasts obliterated the superstructure. The starboard side of the deck was now touching the water. Alex watched the sinking remains of the USS Ronald Reagan until the Osprey’s ramp shut. Nearby, Murray had strapped Nicole into one of the seats along the walls of the cabin. Alex touched Nicole’s forehead. Her skin remained cold.

Alex closed her eyes and saw the black tentacle pulling her friend into the darkness. She saw Nicole’s skin dissolve until only a bloody skull remained.

What did you do. Oh God, what did you do?

“Your father told me to send his regards,” Ellzey said. Alex opened her eyes and turned to face him. “How do you feel? Full? Satisfied? I certainly hope so. Those UCAVs don’t exactly grow on trees.”

“What did you do to me?”

Ellzey sighed. “Why do you always blame me? You have free will, Ms. Bedford. I’ve never done more than provide you the means to improve yourself.” Alex felt sudden white-hot anger. She grabbed Ellzey by the collar and shoved him across the cabin. He did not resist and instead gave her an over-exaggerated frown. “I’m hurt. I come to save you from the NEA and you assault me?”

“What happened to Nicole?!”

“You tell me. I wasn’t down there.”

Alex released her grip on Ellzey’s collar. The anger cooled. “Something took over. I was… inside myself. Nicole got in somehow. She was trying to help me but I… Whatever it was took her.”

“Then you should have left her body on that ship. She’s gone.”

“You’re lying!”

The window behind Ellzey cracked.

He glanced over his shoulder and smirked. “I’m telling you the truth, but feel free to ask your father. We’ll be there shortly. Now, I need to go update the Committee.”

Ellzey walked away, leaving Alex to stare at the hairline fracture in the cabin window. She went and sat beside Nicole and then put her arms around her friend and pulled her close. The men were watching her, staring, but she didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was Nicole.

“Please wake up. Please, Nicki. Please wake up.”

Too late, her voice said. You let it take control. You barely tried to fight it. You had a choice when it offered you whatever was inside that first drone, and you jumped right in. You were enjoying it. You lost control, and now your friend is gone. You should have jumped off the Independence when you had the chance. You knew something like this would happen eventually, didn’t you?

No! she thought. Nicole’s not dead! She’s still alive! She’ll be okay! But part of her knew that was a lie. Ellzey had told her the truth. Nicole was gone.

You’re my best friend, Bedford, her friend’s voice said.

Alex’s eyes watered. She held tightly onto Nicole and sobbed. Her body shook as she let out a long cry, which seemed for a moment to overpower the din of the Osprey. She sensed Shepherd’s presence even before he put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She wanted to turn and hug him but she refused to let go of Nicole.

She buried her head against Nicole’s shoulder, and in the darkness, her mother’s face resolved, not pale and wasted from the radiation and chemotherapy, but beautiful and radiant. Except this was different; her mother was frowning. Why didn’t you stay away? I warned you to go. John could have saved you. He could have saved everyone. Now it’s too late. I’m sorry, Alex. It’s too late.