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on or we’ll wait here for the Spider to get us.”
    “Private—”
    Grec swung her rifle to one side and shot once into the snow, then returned her aim to Furusawa’s forehead.
    The ground shook.
    “I don’t think you should have done that,” said the Sergeant.
    Grec looked around as the air was filled with the buzzing, chirping sound of the Spider distress call. The ground shook again and the snow behind them exploded in shower of white snow and blue ice. The Spider rose up from the ground, its scissor legs unfolding as it stood.
    Beside Grec, Furusawa dropped to her knee and raised her rifle, taking aim. Grec knocked the barrel down.
    “Wait!” she said, and pointed.
    The Spider lowered one of its pincer arms to reveal Palladio, held upright in the machine’s other claw, the two pincers having been cupped together like a protective shell around the marine. From under the machine’s body, hot exhaust from its mouth blasted clouds of steam from the ground as it periodically opened and closed, opened and closed, like the thing was breathing.
    The Spider stood, rocking slightly on its legs.
    “Palladio?” Grec called out. “He’s alive!”
    He was bloody, battered, and had one arm wrapped firmly around his middle. His eyes were closed, like he was concentrating.
    “I managed to hack its psi as it pulled me under and got it to resurface, but your shot attracted it.” Palladio winced in obvious pain. “Quick. I can’t hold it for long.”
    “He’s jammed it.” Furusawa lowered her weapon. “Good work, Marine.” She turned to Grec. “Signal the Hit and Run. We’re going to need a cargo hopper—I’ll give you the request code.”
    “You’ve got to be fucking kidding.”
    Furusawa ignored her and turned back to the machine. “You wanted to know what my orders were. You might well get the chance to find out.”
    The Spider shuddered, and there was a change in the tone of its distress beacon. Atop the machine, Palladio shifted and gasped in pain.
    “It’s a battery, Kat,” he called, his eyes still closed. “It’s using the lost team as a psychic battery to boost its distress beacon.”
    “What?”
    “That’s why it took Khouri. It figured out what she was, then came after the rest of us.” Palladio cried out in pain. “It’s trying to use me too … I can keep it jammed, but its drawing on the others back at the cave. It’ll break free before help arrives.”
    The Spider shuddered again and one leg crept forward.
    Palladio was right, Grec knew. It took whole fireteams of Psi-Marines to jam Spider networks. One Psi-Marine—one injured Psi-Marine—couldn’t last long. Not even against an immature Spider—one that was tapping into the extra psi-power provided by its victims stored under the ice.
    As if on cue, Palladio gasped and the machine took another step forward.
    Grec dropped to the snow. Maybe they had a chance, a slim one. She only hoped the Hit and Run was ready and waiting.
    “No time,” said Palladio, shaking his head. His arm dropped from his middle, revealing cracked combat armor stained scarlet with blood, which trickled down over the optics of the Spider. “No time.”
    The transmitter was ready. Grec looked up, saw the Sergeant raise her rifle.
    The Sergeant fired, not at the Spider, but at Palladio. His body jerked as the plasma round hit him, then he slumped forward. Grec rushed toward Furusawa, taking the sergeant out in a tackle. They toppled sideways; as soon as Furusawa hit the ground, Grec pushed herself to her knees, wrenching the sergeant over on to her back, and pulled her gauntleted fist back for a punch.
    The air was suddenly still, quiet. Grec looked up. The Spider’s beacon had shut down, and the machine itself dimmed, the red light shining from between the moving body plates fading. The mouth on the underside closed, and the Spider fell, its legs collapsing. Grec cried out in surprise and dived to the side, grabbing for Furusawa as she did so, but the