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“We were looking for weaknesses, a cure, an antibody, anything. We only had one infected Covenant, but we needed to see how it worked, how it spread. Just . . . it’s strong. So strong.” He trailed off. Suddenly tired, defeated by something larger than any of them. And yet, was that the barest hint of respect for the Flood creeping into his tone?

“You were testing on prisoners.”

“It may be abhorrent to you,” Smith said, “but such measures will be what wins us the war. Don’t tell me you’re getting soft for an alien race now, Sergeant.”

No. She had no problem with anyone torturing Covenant. That wasn’t the point.

“We face extinction,” he said, almost like a politician. “We have to win this war. No matter what the cost.”

No matter what the cost.

“You weren’t trying to cure Covies of your Flood,” she said, unable to look at him. “This is a prison ship. A civilian prison ship. You were testing on prisoners.”

Something in her tone must have let him know exactly what she meant. Written in the set of her shoulders, the cords standing out on her jaw.

Smith gave Lopez the half-embarrassed cringe-grin people with no integrity gave you when you caught them doing something wrong and they weren’t really sorry. But wanted to pretend they were.

“It’s a big, bad universe, Sergeant. Covenant aren’t the worst of it.”

Lopez raised her head, shifting her balance to her heel.

“You’ve done what you thought was necessary,” Smith said. “And so have I.”

God, he was fast. Faster than she would’ve thought. Missed it in the pat down? Hidden in the lab? A knife in his hand, and Mahmoud’s throat slit, his rifle sliding naturally into Smith’s hands, he got a burst off just as Lopez raised her weapon. She grunted with the impact as the bullets smacked into the armor on her left side. Went down on one knee. Could feel the bruising. Could feel she’d live. Another scar.

Was already reaching for Mahmoud, even though it was too late for him. There was a curve of new blood spattered on the floor, as emphatic as a scimitar.

By then, Smith was through the hatch, sealing it behind him.

>Benti 1530 hours

“Where are we?” Benti asked Rimmer.

“Guard’s tea room. God’s waiting room?” He peeked up over the window. “Didn’t really get a tour of the ship, you know.”

They’d been lucky, nothing had been on the other side of the ladder. Without the schematic Orlav had carried, they were running blind, but the engine room was back here somewhere. They’d passed one very helpful sign, directing them on their way—the only time she’d felt like they were someplace even halfway civilized.

She wasn’t sure how she was going to explain Henry to the sarge when they met up. Henry kept close to Rimmer, for all the good it did the Covenant. Rimmer kept looking around and starting at shadows.

“You said ‘Flood,’ before. What did you mean?”

Rimmer pitched his voice low. Henry craned to listen, even if he couldn’t understand. “Some uniform came on board. He was with ONI. After that, we weren’t allowed out of our cells. Sponge baths, if we were lucky. I think they brought the Covies on board then. We could hear them talking. Could smell them, too. Sorry, Henry.” He gave the Elite an apologetic pat on the arm, which seemed to surprise the alien. “No one told us anything. Not even the guards knew what was going on. We made some slipspace jump, to here. Wherever here is. Could hear them bringing stuff on board all the time, and tossing it back out, like they were looking for something. Guess they found it. Started taking people, you know. And Covies. They didn’t seem to care if we saw the Covies, then.” He stopped. “Think they figured we weren’t going anywhere, and it didn’t matter what we knew.” He kept patting Henry’s arm. In his words, in the flat lack of emotion in his voice, there was an absence of dread that was louder than anything he could have screamed. And he kept patting Henry’s arm like he’d developed a nervous tic.

“The air con on this ship, you know how it is. It carries the noise funny. We heard things. No one they took ever came