Pushing forward, he ignored the closed doors of the staff quarters and continued down the hall, his weapon shouldered and his fingers massaging the trigger. The glow meant one thing: contacts.

He slid his back against the wall and checked his magazine. It was full. He was locked and loaded, ready to go.

Light ’em up!

He ran into the room and almost fired a round into Timothy’s forehead. The man stood, shaking uncontrollably, in the center of the med ward. His eyes were fixated on an orb floating over what was left of Saafi’s cryo chamber.

Suspended from the ceiling were a half dozen spiders, their bellies bulging.

The sight was overwhelming. For the first time, Overton wasn’t exactly sure what to do. None of it made sense to him. The spiders should have been attacking Timothy, aggravated by his screams. But looking closer, he saw they were in some sort of suspended animation. A translucent layer of skin covered their eyes, and their liquid-filled torsos pulsated. Even from several paces away, Overton could see the liquid was slowly dissipating.

He didn’t need to see any more. His instincts kicked back in. The spiders weren’t sleeping; they were fueling up. Now was his chance.

One swift kick to the back of Timothy’s knee was all it took to get him out of the way. He watched the man’s legs crumple beneath him, and then, without further hesitation, he squeezed his rifle’s trigger rapidly, like a child playing a video game.

Adrenaline filled his veins as the rounds tore into the spiders’ shields. They just hung there, putting up no resistance. After only a few shots, their defenses weakened and failed. Overton finished the magazine with a few more squeezes of the trigger, and the last spider exploded in a mist of liquid. They’d never even moved.

“That’s for Finley!” he shouted. He lowered his rifle and pulled another mag from his belt. With a click, he jammed it back in the weapon and fired off another volley of shots into a spider whose body was still somewhat intact.

“And that’s for the rest of my squad!” he snarled.

A burst of static broke over the com. “Sergeant, what’s going on? We heard gunfire. Over.”

“All clear, Bouma. I found Timothy and”—he looked at the empty orb floating over the destroyed cryo chamber—“And what’s left of Mr. Yool.”

Silence filled his helmet as he waited for a response.

Sophie’s voice slowly broke over the channel. “Sergeant Overton, please repeat your last transmission.”

“Mr. Yool is gone, ma’am. I’m sorry for . . .”

A hissing sound distracted Overton before he could finish his thought. He spun and saw one of the cryo chambers open. When he saw Holly and Owen emerge, he immediately lowered his weapon, a relieved grin on his face.

“Dr. Winston. I’ve located Holly and Owen. They appear to be uninjured.”