"Okay, so arrest me. Lynch me. Whatever you want, Evanston-but first you have to get through my friends here."

The Predators were already pounding and blasting at the entrance doors to the secret lab.

As they worked, a green mist began to plume from the doors, folding in upon them and through the chamber.

Laughter drifted and echoed down from the speakers.

"You're a fool, Noguchi. You'll soon be surrounded by the well-trained security forces you managed to divert. What do you hope to accomplish?"

"Destroy this abomination!"

"Well, haven't we become the torch-bearing villager approaching the castle of Frankenstein? Perhaps if you'd attempted this a month ago, you might have had more success. Unfortunately for you, what you saw in the lab is only the process."

The sound of gears.

The sound of doors opening.

"We've had plenty of excellent results."

The sound of boots clopping toward them from the other side of the chamber figures moved through the mist. Emerged.

Machiko gasped.

"Oh, dear," said Attila, peering out of his little hammock.

"May I introduce you to our new warriors," said the voice of Livermore Evanston. "We have twenty up and on-line. I think they'll do very nicely.

Aren't they stunning? They'll do humanity proud."

A clank.

A creak of chitin and armor and equipment.

The familiar, stomach-wrenching smell of acid.

"And now we shall deal with invading vermin, eh?" said Evanston.

The new arrivals attacked.

There was a booming of speakers and voices inside, but Ned Sanchez couldn't make out much from where he and d.i.c.k Daniels were entrenched behind a permacrete outbuilding, guarding the flanks of the operation.

"They're not coming in," said Daniels. "The b.a.s.t.a.r.ds are just forming up out there, waiting for something."

There had been a few who'd rushed in, but Sanchez and Daniels had toasted them properly, and they'd scurried back to douse their tails in buckets of water or whatever.

Otherwise, they weren't doing anything.

"They're not sh.e.l.ling 'cause they don't want to hurt the building, if they can avoid it."

"Or what's in the building."

"I don't like the looks of it. We should be in there and out by now. It's going to take a lot to get through those guys!"

"We got in because we've got some pretty fierce fighters on our side. Take my word for it. Machiko knows her stuff."

"She was one of the survivors on Ryus.h.i.+. I just hope that's not the case here," said Daniels.

"What? You want to have your cake and eat it?"

"You bet."

"Me too."

There was some sort of commotion within.

A seepage of mist.

"Somethin' sure as h.e.l.l stinks in there," said Daniels. He made a face.

"Literally"

"Yeah." Sanchez glanced uneasily toward the security forces, hunkered behind their vehicles. "Look, you better get your b.u.t.t in there and see what the h.e.l.l is going on," said Daniels. "I'll keep the army guessing."

Another clatter. The sounds of blasting from within.

"Yeah. Right. Thanks."

Sanchez patted his fellow on the arm and then made a quick dash for the opening of the building.

No one shot at him.

As he entered, he immediately felt a raw blast of intuition.

Something was very wrong.

He saw, first, Machiko Noguchi, standing tall but with a somewhat cowed expression on her face. The face dangling below her-Attila's-appeared equally upset.

He turned in the direction of what they were facing, and saw the problem immediately.

"Jesus!" he said.

Though there was absolutely nothing holy about what he was looking at.

"Exactly," spat Machiko.

A trapdoor had opened in her chest, and her heat had fallen through.

"We've got more than we bargained for, I think," said Attila "I just hope your boys are as good as you say."

What they had witnessed growing in that bubbling nutrient tank only hinted at the true monstrosities that glowered over them now, outfitted fully for killing and destruction.

They were the b.u.g.g.e.rs.

Bigger than normal bugs, they towered over the Predators, armored and outfitted with cyborg exoskeletons and extensions, with several arms, all holding weapons of various kinds, from blasters to spears and knives.

Nor were they all identical.

Some leaned more toward Queenhood, drool dripping down from their razor-sharp fangs, claws curiously tangled with weapons in awkward grips.

Some looked almost exactly like normal Hard Meat, from claws to sh.e.l.ls to fang-ended head-tubings. However, metallic extensions wrapped around these: focusing oculars.

These Bugs could see.

All, however, moved stiffly, without the fluidity of their counterparts.

These were not tested models, Machiko realized.

These were creatures that had just been put on duty today, and hastily at that. This was their first testing.

And that was their one hope.

With this realization Machiko called out to Bakuub.

The Predator immediately began to strike back toward them.

Machiko communicated her perceptions quickly to Attila.

"Tell him. Tell him there's hope-but his people must fight quickly and agilely."

Attila did so immediately and fluidly, also adding his own particular strategic insights.

The Predator traipsed back to his crew, speaking rapidly and gesturing.

The group split up.

"Thank you, Evanston,- cried out Machiko Noguchi. "We don't have to go in there to destroy them now!"

She lifted her blaster and fired at the closest one.

It was a good shot.

She hadn't fired to kill. She had a good angle on what appeared to be an opening: an uncovered portion of the front most monster's leg.

The blast caught the thing in the knee joint. It emitted a high-pitched squawking and tumbled in the path of the others in a squabble of limbs and armor.

Like formation fighters, the Predators split and began to attack.

The monsters seemed taken by surprise at the fall of the foremost.

Nonetheless, they aimed their guns and began to fire as well.

A Predator was caught full in the chest and bashed across a table like a toy, cras.h.i.+ng out of sight. However, a moment later it popped back up like a burned jack-in-the-box and charged again, firing at its adversary.

The b.u.g.g.e.rs were more impressive physically than kinetically; however, they were not without power and cunning in battle. Nonetheless, there was a feeling of inexperience and confusion to their monstrous visages, a tentativeness to the movements.

And why not? They were, after all, fresh out of the vat, so to speak, armed with artificial memory and directed from afar.

The Hunter in Machiko sensed this.

She intuited that the Predators sensed this as well. She could see hand motions and clipped commands. Clumps of them broke apart, reformed differently.

The fallen b.u.g.g.e.r rolled away, and the others hurled past, eager to tear apart their prey. They were met with cross blasts from unexpected angles. For a moment their ranks held, but then, when two of their number literally blew up under the blaster onslaught, they retreated. These close quarters were not what they were programmed to fight in. And whoever was commanding them wasn'tdoing the proper job.

Nonetheless, it was a b.l.o.o.d.y, nasty melee.

Inexperienced though they might be, the b.u.g.g.e.rs were still fighting machines, and they fought with a fearsome coldness that held the worst and the deadliest of both races.

Nonetheless, the Predators were fighting machines as well, and fighting machines that now, in a contest not just for honor but for survival, fought with a single will and absolutely incandescent genius.

Machiko had never seen the like.

Nor, apparently, had Ned Sanchez.

He stood there, gawking.

"Get down," order Machiko, taking her own advice and parking herself behind a high-backed lab table.

"Shouldn't we help?"

"We'll just get ourselves killed now."

Anyway, Sanchez would. She'd run with a pack before and could probably meld her instincts into the group mix. Sanchez couldn't; he would probably get caught in the buzz saw of action and get ripped to pieces.

He got down as well, though he peered out at the action with great interest.

"My G.o.d, I've never seen anything like this. Talk about berserkers."

The Predators were fighting with a grace and precision that bordered on ballet. They somehow knew just the right moments to dodge, just the right moments to fire, just the right moments to advance.

They were defeating the enemy, an enemy programmed only for victory.

"Evanston bungled this project," said Machiko. "He didn't realize how stupid the bugs are, and that's programmed into these creatures as well."

"What-you're saying they were no threat?" said Sanchez. "That we're doing this for nothing?"

"Oh, no. He could certainly make refinements, I'm sure. Nonetheless, fearsome and nasty as they are, they don't have the thousands of years of practice that the yautja have."

"Would someone please tell me what's happening?" said Attila.