Mech Zero: The Dominant by B. V. Larson Page A

their gentle nature. The invaders moved into the cabin with big pistols in their hands. They stared at each of the dead crewmen strewn at their feet, kicking them about as a man might kick at dead leaves.
    Above him, Theller saw a shape scuttle forward. He realized it was Captain Beezel. She grabbed the rearmost of the hulking men around the neck with a single, wiry arm. The helmet starred instantly, then cracked. Blood flowed from the crushed throat underneath. Theller could see the man’s shocked eyes inside his faceplate. The man reached up with huge fingers and tore at his assailant, but she held on resolutely. His fingers gouged away strips of her plastiflesh, but he was quickly overcome and slumped down.
    The biggest of the Mendelians, a man who was almost squatting inside Redemption , noticed his fallen comrade. He shouted an order that was muffled by their helmets. Theller sank down into the webbing, trying to retreat beneath the cargo.
    They lifted their big pistols and fired into the bodies at their feet. Each lurched and puffed with smoke and flecks of flesh. Boiling, dead blood ran over the deck plates.
    One of the marines roared as his sidearm was snatched out of his grasp. He wheeled and took a blast in the chest from his own pistol. With incredible vitality, he made a gargling attempt to grapple with his opponent anyway. He managed to grab hold of Beezel, who stood exposed for a moment. The remaining Mendelians faced her, and seemed bewildered. Could it really be this small female who had slain two of their number?
    Then they fired in unison, and the captain sagged down, twitching. One of her titanium-boned arms kept flapping and whipping about until they stood on it and blew it off with another pistol-shot.
    Three Mendelians had survived. Theller knew he should surrender to them now. He should stand up slowly, with his hands on his helmet. The urge to do so was almost overwhelming. If they found him hiding under a heap of junk in the back, they could rightfully consider him an enemy combatant and burn him down.
    But he didn’t surrender. He chided himself for gross cowardice, but he simply couldn’t do it. His legs would not obey him. His voice choked in his throat. There were too many unknowns. He was not a man to take drastic action unless it was absolutely the final option. Unfortunately, too many such circumstances had arisen lately.
    The three Mendelians spoke amongst themselves for a moment, lowering their pistols but keeping them in their hands. The largest seemed to be giving orders. The other two seemed surprised, but moved to obey. They climbed into the ruined airlock and exited into the boarding shuttle they’d apparently brought with them.
    The next moment brought a new shock to Theller. The biggest Mendelian, the leader, had brought up the rear of the group. He lifted his pistol and fired into the backs of his men. He advanced, and Theller saw the thing riding on his back then—the wavering antennae, the segmented body, the spines and fronds. It was the creature that had ridden upon Captain Beezel.
    The Mendelian leader stepped over his dead comrades and climbed into the airlock. He fired more shots as he went. Theller couldn’t see him any longer, but he imagined the scene: the enemy crew was being killed by their own commander.
    Theller thought hard. The thing on the Mendelian’s back was somehow influencing the actions of anyone it rode upon. It had discovered him and let him live, but Theller suspected it had only done so because it wanted to surprise the boarding party. He felt sure that when it had killed everyone else, it would come back here and finish him.
    Finally, because he had no choice, Theller stood up and crept forward. When he reached the bulkhead between the prime deck and the aft cargo section, he opened a hatch in the floor. He clipped a security cord to his belt, then pulled the red lever that was under the hatch. A set of explosive bolts fired, and the ship