"What I was told in there ... is classified, Captain. By order of the World Council. I can only tell you once we reach Omega Nine. And even then-"

He looked away.

The man was sick with the knowledge ... with whatever this secret was ... and he had to hold it alone.

"-and even then, after reviewing things ... only if the WC approves."

Annie was tempted to threaten the man.

If he knew something that jeopardized her ship, this mission, the lives of the passengers, then she damned well better know, World Council or no World Council.

But Omega Nine still lay some distance away.

There'd be time to work on Rodriguez. Get him to talk.

But not now. Not here.

Jordan was looking over at them.

Picking up on what's happening here, maybe?

Jordan came over and stood by her side without a word.

Then: "Annie, we gotta get moving. Been here too long. I don't-"

A high-pitched tone came from the pod bay.

A message scrawled across a holo screen floating above the bay.

The words: DATA POD SUCCESSFULLY LAUNCHED.

"What the-" She looked around. "Where's Nahara?"

Over in a distant corner, Nahara was sitting off to one side, his eyes wide.

More damned secrets.

"Nahara, did you just launch a pod?"

Biting his lower lip, he shook his head.

Too quickly.

"Then who the hell did?" Jordan said as he walked over to the man, bringing his face close to the authority agent. "The corpses?"

"I-I don't know. Maybe it's a station auto-update. Some of them-especially outpost stations-are programmed to do that."

"With all the files wiped?" Annie said.

Nahara looked from Jordan to her, his eyes wide. Staring.

"You know what I'd like to do, Annie?" Jordan said. "I'd like to-"

But his words were cut off. A low, sick sound came from behind them.

"Holy shit," she whispered when she turned to see what Rodriguez was looking at.

Ivan stared at the main terminal building and didn't like the emptiness that surrounded it. The broken door window. Already signs of trouble.

On the grounds and tarmac ... nobody at all. No ground crew. No mechanics. No baggage handlers.

Too damn quiet.

If everyone was inside the terminal ... why?

Might have been smarter to leave someone outside to watch the door. That's what he would have done. Jordan should have known.

So where were they? Inside, talking to the station manager? Finding out what was wrong here? Because something was most definitely wrong here.

He held the pulse gun out in front of him, sweeping the area.

A substantial weapon. Fully charged. And with a scope that would allow him-even a mile away-to hit a target with pinpoint accuracy.

His gut told him he was going to need it.

And now, with a gun in his hand, he vowed not to give it up so easily when Jordan and Annie Scott came back.

He quickened his pace, heading to the main building.

Annie looked down.

Warrows.

Dozens of them suddenly filled the corridor down below ... like rats spilling out of their hiding places.

Sniffing the air, they looked around. Some sank their teeth into the corpses lying below.

Biting ... chewing ... feasting and squabbling over the bloody remains.

Annie stood stock still.

Then: a quick look at Jordan, who also wasn't moving. He was intently watching the creatures on the ground floor.

"These ones look bigger than the others," Annie said.

And they were. The ones they had already fought and killed were-what? Maybe three to four meters, stretched out. These looked like they were more in the four- to six-meter range.

"Those"-Jordan nodded at the massing creatures-"are the adults."

"What?"

"They let the young ones lead the hunt. To get the experience. Then the adults take the spoils."

"Jesus. Why didn't you tell me?"

Jordan sniffed and said, "I didn't want you to worry."

He was silent for a moment. Thinking, probably, the same thing she was: We're screwed.

"They don't know we're up here," Annie whispered.

"Not yet."

"Options?"

"Start shooting ... and let them know we're here?"

And have that horde, scores of warrows, direct their attention on them up here?

As far as she knew, there was only one way up and one way down.

The math was clear. They couldn't do it. Not without losses.

For every warrow they took out, there would be three or four more coming up behind, ready to tear them apart before they could take them all out.

A moment of indecision.

Rodriguez was still holding on to the railing, but his arms were shaking, wobbling like skinny tree limbs in a hurricane.

Nahara was standing a short distance behind them. He was sniffing the air as if it had turned thin ... rancid.

Annie didn't like hesitating like this. They had to do something-and soon.

But then the decision was taken out of her hands.

From below, sudden snuffing and whimpering sounds.

Jordan reacted first, probably guessing what was happening.

Moving his gun up, arms extended. Annie followed suit.

Rodriguez didn't go for his gun. He looked helpless. Useless.

She didn't say anything. Keeping quiet in case they misread the situation.

But then there came the sickening confirmation as a warrow leaped onto the balcony, claws grasping at the railing, legs scrambling to gain purchase on the wall.

Within seconds, the first beast flipped itself over the railing and landed directly in front of Rodriguez.

Then another warrow leaped up, scrambled, and landed to their left. Two more on their right.

The warrows had them in a pincer.

Jordan didn't wait. He began firing before other ones landed.

Annie yelled as she started blasting at them.

"Guns! Nahara. Rodriguez. Shoot!"

She barely took aim before firing at a warrow that came flying at her, teeth bared.

The dead weight sent her smacking down to the floor. Black blood that smelled like shit covered her midsection, but the open mouth didn't move.

But the weight-so damned heavy.

More blasts. Jordan shooting.

Then, as she pushed the weight aside, the thing rolled off her.

Jordan. Pulling it.

Annie leaped to her feet.

Four ... five of them up here now.

After the initial outburst, they were wary, now circling.

Rodriguez had backed away, and two warrows had him cornered. The scientist held his gun limply in his hand, dangling uselessly at his side.

Annie fired at the back of one, and a massive hole opened up at the top of its spine, spraying blood and bones against the wall.

Rodriguez finally raised his gun and fired, actually wounding the other warrow, who skittered on the floor, howling with pain and rage.

But the shot wasn't nearly well-aimed enough.

Jordan spun around, crouched, and fired at it, then turned back to the railing. More were scrambling up and over the rails.

"Over there," Jordan shouted, pointing his muzzle behind her.

Annie turned and shot in the direction of the dead escalator where a dozen or more warrows scrambled, scurried up. Big ones, hungry ... racing to the feast that awaited them.

Four of them charged together, side by side, their claws skittering on the tile as others came together to form a V-shaped phalanx.