‘Then we’ll make you a lot less human,’ Dale shouts. Then he hoches furiously, his mouth widening, lips pulling back to reveal a gaping hole. His mandibles shoot out like he’s been doing it all his life, and then the spit ball comes flying. The guards are holding me, so I can’t run, or duck. There’s no escaping this one.

It thuds into my neck – warm and oozy and honestly totally disgusting. ‘Gross.’ I use the bottom of one of the guards’ jumpers to wipe it off, but before I’ve even finished, I feel my eyelids drooping.

‘You could have sent anyone here, but you chose to come yourself,’ Dale says. ‘I thought you were a leader, but you have allowed me to take advantage of your weakness.’

‘That’s the difference between you, and us.’ I say, my mind and body shutting down at an 287 alarming speed. ‘Apparently, as a leader, you’re to be protected at all costs, and you’d let others die so that you can live on. Where I come from, no one person is more important than another. No life is worth more than the rest. If I have to give mine so that my friends can survive, I’ll take it. Just like they would for me.’

‘And that’s why you’ll lose,’ he laughs.

‘No,’ I manage to slur, though my lips feel like they belong to someone else. ‘That’s why we’ll win.’

And, as much as I fight the sleep that’s overpowering me, half a second later I sink into darkness, and I know it’s game over.

24

My Squad

It takes me a moment. It’s like I’m awake in my brain but not in my body, like it’s rebooting – the screen frozen while the waiting circle goes round and round and round. Processing, buffering, trying to remember how it’s supposed to function. And it’s good in a way, cos it gives me time to think before I open my eyes.

First, I don’t think I’m a bug. I don’t feel any different. My body is as tired as it was before – definitely not bursting with super-strength and energy. I don’t know what it’s like to be part of the hive mind – do you hear voices? Do you see through other bugs’ eyes? Or do you just know what the rest of them know? Whichever one it is, I don’t have it. I also have the reassuring feeling of desperately wanting to punch Dale in his bug face, and that has got to be a good sign. The relief I feel is freaking huge. Thank god for the tardibrownies. 289