The two immediately moved off to confer.

“I have a lot of confidence in your team, Vikram.”

“I hope it’s not misplaced.”

“They’ve worked wonders so far,” he said, his tone far lighter than his mood. “As we were coming up here, you said you had something important to show me?”

Nayar immediately walked up to the panel showing the Keanu schematic. He tapped on the screen, zooming in for a closer view of one of the passages between two habitats.

There were five indicators in the passage, all clumped together, four small and one large.

“We’ve located Rachel, Pav, and Zhao,” Vikram Nayar announced. “At least, we’re fairly sure this is them. We have some ability to roll back the image, and were able to walk these indicators back through that habitat”—he pointed at the one invaded by Reivers—“then back, back, back to what appears to be ours.”

He traced his finger through a series of turns and twists that covered a third of the distance across the NEO.

“Wow. They’ve gone a long way,” Gabriel said. “How did you hear from them? Direct voice?”

“Close-up imagery.”

“Security camera?”

“A system that compares to our security cameras the way this”—Nayar pointed to the cabinets and their mysterious readouts and equipment—“compares to a nineteenth-century factory.”

“Can’t wait to talk to them. I hope they’re safe.”

“It appears so,” Nayar said, “to the extent that any of us are safe.” Having grown more at home with the displays—or tired of Jaidev’s super-fast changes, like a deranged husband with a TV remote—Nayar began to manipulate the images on the screen, bringing up a new version of the Keanu interior.

As Nayar’s finger slid over the various habitats, each exploded into a larger view that showed hundreds, likely thousands of small indicators, most of them in motion.

“Notice this discoloration? You saw it in tunnels and habitats.”

There were smears of a different color through one entire habitat, effectively eliminating any individual Markers, at spots in several others, and through a good percentage of the tunnel and passage network.

“Alien graffiti.”

“Reiver infection,” Nayar said. “It’s not just their presence. It’s interference. We’re suffering from it, too. We lost all data for several minutes. And the interruptions are coming more frequently.”

“Well, we know we have to eradicate them. That’s what we’re doing, right?” Gabriel tried to sound cheery; it was one of the handiest items in his managerial toolbox. But he felt sick, because he knew that scrubbing the bugs from the human habitat was a small step.

“They seem to be on the march,” Nayar said, “the infection spreading toward one particular zone.”

“It’s not a habitat?”

“It’s got a different shape, and it’s closer to the surface. We just don’t know.”

“But you figure it can’t be good.”

“There’s another thrust toward the core,” Nayar said. “Which we know to be the power sources.”

“Okay, sum up for me, in case I have to explain it to Drake and Weldon—”

“The Reivers are close to taking over the entire NEO.”

Gabriel closed his eyes. None of this was exactly a surprise—the moment he had seen the Reiver infection on the Keanu map he had realized it was a serious problem. It was still troubling to hear it stated.

Then he looked at the indicators. “Why are there five? It was only Rachel, Taj’s boy, and Zhao who went out.”

Jaidev and Daksha returned and heard Gabriel’s question. As if testing his knowledge, Nayar said, “One of them appears to be nonhuman,” he said, indicating the various colors and displays. “Body temperature, size, mass, even speed of movement—”

“—The kinds of data Keanu routinely collects on every being here,” Jaidev added.

“—are all different.”

“Okay, then, there’s one alien and four humans. Who’s the fourth?”

“Uh, the message,” Jaidev said, “indicated it was your daughter, Yvonne.”

DALE

“Double back,” Zack told them.

They had just snaked their way through the collection of rounded structures that Dale Scott immediately thought of as Crapville, right to the point where they could see Dash ahead of them…and a clear Beehive-like opening in front of him.

Zack, Makali, and Dale. No Valya.

“God, she was right behind me,” Makali said.

“Good, then she won’t be far.”

He didn’t wait or issue orders, but simply shot back the way he had come, taking the left of a pair of routes. Makali looked at Dale. “You and he were both ahead of me on that path. If he’s taking the left, we should take the right.” There were really only two pathways through the rubble of Crapville.

The last thing Dale Scott wanted to do was to lose sight of the Sentry and turn away from the possible exit. He could feel himself on the verge of passing out, knowing that if he did, it would be the end.

But, fine, one more try.

He followed Makali through the debris, unable to see much. The flare of the pursuing Sentries had died out, leaving the humans to stumble around in the darkness like children in an unlit basement.

He wondered briefly how close the pursuers were. And if they caught the humans, what would they do? And what difference would it make?

“Dale!” Makali was somewhere in front of him, huffing and puffing. “Two paths again…go right, hear me?”

“Right, got it!”

A shadow passed over him, something silent, swift. Looking up, he saw what appeared to be a red balloon—not a Sentry in some kind of aircraft, thank God. The object disappeared from sight quickly, which was fine for Dale. He needed to watch his footing.

The right path suddenly appeared as a slightly less dark area in front of Dale. It was so clogged with debris that he had to drop to hands and knees to crawl over it…he immediately knew that, in her present condition, Valya had never reached it.

Which didn’t mean, of course, that she wasn’t still in front of him.

He slid down the far side of the mound of debris and almost pitched forward onto his face. He was walking on something slippery…fresh fluid of some kind.

He smelled something new, fresh, and nasty, too.

Oh shit! Around the nearest turn was a body, human, literally cut in two from top to bottom. One half had been scattered—Dale had been walking on the remains—while the other lay in a crumpled, bloody heap.

Valya.

“Over here!” Dale said. It started as a shout but ended as a sob. Oh fuck. He took a breath, steadied himself against the nearest wall. “I…found…her!”

Yes, they had been poisoned, suffering from who knew what kind of oxygen deprivation and nasty trace element overload, all of it contributing to evil thoughts.

But Dale Scott had never wanted to see Valya truly dead. She was a friend—had been his lover—was part of the team!

Makali was first to arrive. She shrieked and turned away. Turning back, she shoved Dale. “What did you do?” she screamed. She actually began hitting him.

It was relatively easy to grab her fists and force them down. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Zack arrived then, clambering over the same pile of debris as Dale, and slipping, too. Then he stopped dead, as if punched. “God,” was all he said.

Makali was in Dale’s face. “You hated her!”

“Me?” he said. “You think I would or could do this?”

“Stop it,” Zack said. “We’re oxygen-starved and poisoned.” He rubbed his face. “Well, there’s nothing we can do for her.” He held his right hand over the remains, as if offering a blessing. Dale wished he had thought of that.

Meanwhile Makali knelt by the body. “Where’s her bag?”

“What difference does it make?” Dale said. Jesus, women.

“It had the Tik-Talk, for one thing,” Zack said. “But I don’t see it anywhere.”

“Sorry to hear it,” Dale said. “It hasn’t exactly been useful.”