Jake Berenson could feel the cords holding him down. He remembered at one time morphing to something big (he couldn't remember what; his list of morphs had grown exponentially since the end of the Invasion), but the tangled web of metal and wire just expanded to hold him in, unbreaking. Definitely not Yeerk technology. Something's up.

His eyes finally responded to his mental command – and they were able to see. There was not much to look at, – a mess of red and green and yellow wire, with metal straps about his body to keep him immobilized – but he felt better knowing he had his eyes available to him. Morph. At least you can communicate with the others, if they're alive.

Closing his eyes, he concentrated on two main colors – orange and black.

*****

Marco had been mumbling to himself for a good part of an hour, and he still didn't feel any better. "I should've taken the Florida job. I knew I should've gone to Miami and had myself a martini, shaken not stirred. Now I'm stuck in the Final Frontier and I have to go to the bathroom."

You done complaining?

"And now I'm getting thought-speak. Do you know how much damage you're doing to my psyche, Sir Jake?"

Obviously not enough.

Marco shook his head. "What're you up to, fearless leader?"

Wetting myself.

"Funny. Care to get me out of the human harvest a la Matrix?" Marco struggled with the cords, but it was a useless gesture.

He could almost hear the sigh in Jake's voice. Morphs aren't doing us any good. I'm still stuck in here – tiger morph just gave me some hearing and a whole lotta thought-speak. How's everyone holding up?

Jeanne and Santorelli managed to make a reply, but Marco's human ears were unable to make heads or tails of what they said.

Another voice, this one thought-speak, managed to be audible. Dreaming about mice. Lemme alone.

Marco rolled his eyes. "Nice to see featherhead's still in the land of the living, if not in the real world."

You've been singing Lisa Loeb songs for the past two hours, Marco – I think I can be forgiven just a little bit of insanity.

Okay, you two, Jake interjected. Something woke us all up. It's not coincidence that it happened to all of us at the same time, so something's going on. I'm going to try to figure out if there's a way to get us out. Big morphs don't work, small morphs are even worse. No way to navigate.

I know. I tried fly morph, and I was going for an hour and then demorphed. I hadn't moved more than two feet.

Enough with your prattle.

"Oookay," Marco muttered. "Now I need a pair of extra shorts."

The time is coming, children. Do not fear – the One will show you very, very soon.

*****

Brian pushed Petrofski down to the floor of the Communications Center and raised up his M-25, driving a trio of explosive rounds into the midsection of one of the four humanoid hybrids at the satellite control system, a cylindrical terminal in the center of the room. The snarling creature flew ten feet and slammed against the metallic door between two other terminals, and slid to the floor, much of its middle missing or charred.

The other three charged after Brian, their katana-sized claws extending from their fingers, like a horrible attempt to splice Freddy Kruger with Edward Scissorhands. Dropping his ammoless combat rifle, he brought up a command on his HUD and his two Glocks extended out from the body of his HEV suit. Drawing them out and commanding the holsters closed, he unloaded upon the hunting mutations. Silenced bullets drilled through the hybrids, catching them in the throat and head, all of the rounds expended hitting their mark. Each making a hissing/snarling/squealing sound, they disgracefully drop their bodies to the floor.

Impressive.

"Shut up," Brian muttered to the One. "You've been bothering me all day, and killing your children is getting tiresome."

You should be thankful that I have not allowed my stronger children to finish you off.

"If you had stronger children, you would have sent them already," he sighed, helping Joseph to his feet. "How much farther?" he whispered to the doctor.

"That, next door, should be the, C-three core," Petrofski replied, pointing to the door where the flying hybrid left a dent in it.

West nodded. "Let's go."

Walking past the creature (after Brian put another couple rounds into its forehead), Joseph entered the code on the keypad beside the marred entrance. He received a harsh tone in reply. The doctor looked back to Brian. "It should, have worked. I don't know, what is, wrong with it."

Brian made a command and took a small charge out of the extending pocket. "Let me handle this one." Taking the charge, he placed it in the center of the door, keying in a couple of options. "Close your eyes, doctor."

As Petrofski did what he was told, West hit the detonation button, standing right in front of it. The charge exploded, but a green field contained the explosion heading toward Brian and the good doctor, while the rest of its force hit the door full on. Already damaged, it did not take much to send the thing sliding across the adjacent room.

The Seraphim Commander tossed in a flashbang and closed sight of it from his HUD. Once the explosion was complete, he re-opened vision and rolled in with his Glocks, aimed at any hostile activity.

Instead, what he found was much different.

The room was not that large horizontally, – it probably was forty meters in diameter – but it raised high up for about sixty meters. In the center, a terminal much like the satellite control system stood, attached to both the floor and the ceiling. There were four stations at the terminal, apparently pointing for each direction. At each monitor, lines of code were speeding by continuously, but there was no one at the keyboards or thought-speak stations to input the coding.

Even so, that wasn't what amazed him.

Along the walls, wires and cords covered the walls, making probably a four-foot extension to the wall, from floor to ceiling. Every so often, there was a large mound inside the wires.

What the hell...? Brian brought up laser control. He activated control of the wrist beam on his right arm, and stepped up to the nearest mound. The wires were cut easily by his beams, but there were so many of them, and working through it was slow. He had to be careful not to stab through the mound, for fear of cutting anyone or anything inside.

Whirr. Click. Click. Whirr. Whirr. Whirr. Click.

Brian looked about the room. But he could see nothing. He brought up his scanners, but they were still somewhat damaged. They weren't operational, yet. "Doc? The hell is that noise?"

Petrofski shook his head, looking around. "I have, not a, clue. Something, tells me that, the One, has been, busy at, Defense, Engineering."

"Lovely," Commander West muttered as he cut through the final edges of the cords. He broke through the armor, and started pulling it apart at the seam he had made. The first thing he could see inside was a big tooth. Then there was the muzzle. He could've sworn that a tiger was smiling at him.

About time, Brian. I was wondering when you were going to follow in my footsteps.

The Commander smiled brightly. "You think I wanted to?"

Already, the face of Jake was appearing from within the demorphing animal. His- "grrry has a funny way of rrrepeating itself. We have some others inside the rest of these mounds."

Brian nodded. "Gotcha, Professor. Time to clean house."

*****

The Assault Transport Carrier (the modified HTC) Gabriel's central computer flickered for a moment. Frost tapped the screen, but it didn't flicker anymore. He shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. It must have been a glitch or something, he surmised.

No one noticed that the communication parameters for the SOS messages, or the message body itself, had changed.