Lieutenant Colonel Lucas Moody was confused and getting angrier by the moment. After Atwell had dismissed himself and left his ostensible “prisoner” standing at the edge of what appeared to be a vertigo-inducing cavern containing Admiral Hughes’ prison, the marine officer had done a little exploring of his own. There were walkways and side corridors, all made of the same chitinous material he and Captain Hunter had encountered when they first boarded the Dunkerque.

An immense tunnel extended into darkness. Around it, a dozen or more smaller side passages broke off and twisted away. The whole complex seemed to be made of the same material that huge insect’s armored back was made of. But there was something else too. It was a presence Moo couldn’t put into words, but he still knew it was there. It was almost as if he were experiencing a sixth sense: A sense of the unknown just at the edge of his experience but discernible enough he could reach a little further and put a shape and a color and a size to it.

Everywhere he went, and in every direction he looked, he could feel the sinister presence of living malice. There was an overwhelming dread just around the next corner. It was dark and wet. Then there was the seethe.

At regular intervals, as if it were the heartbeat of a sleeping titan, the entire complex seemed to experience some kind of spasm. Moo could feel it and hear it. If he concentrated, he could even register a change in temperature. The air would shrink and become hotter and closer. And then everything would relax at once, and the world would return to its dank, sopping former reality.

But there was something else. The colonel couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was a sensation all around him that he couldn’t quite shake. The visuals outside of the huge tunnel were awe-inspiring and more than a little unsettling, to be sure. It looked as if he were staring into a chamber that held a miniaturized planet, with all the size and depth such a concept would bring to the mind of a reasonable person. The problem was just that. It all seemed to be perception. Moo couldn’t deny what he saw, but what is a man to do when one sense is telling him something and the other four are shouting in opposition?

The sense of being in a much smaller place was all around him as he navigated the strangely colored tunnel. Even though he had to stoop and run a hand along the “ceiling” as he made his way, there was more to his sense than simply formerly being in a big place and now being in a small place. He was reminded of his subterranean exploration training, when his team was required to survey underground locations for potential combat threats. He had never been particularly claustrophobic, but he had men, including officers, in his command who were. The effects of being afraid to climb in to confined spaces were always surprising to him, as he had never experienced that kind of white-faced panic before.

This place he was in felt for all the world like being underground somehow. The colonel was well aware there was no engineering or science known to man that would allow a “planet-sized” chamber to be constructed underground. A heavy surface that large could not be suspended that far from its counterpart without earthworks beyond the imagination of the most fanciful architect or magic beyond the whims of a spinner of fantastical fairy tales. Even if there were some kind of artificial gravity in operation, the shape of the chamber was simply not physically capable of maintaining its shape at such magnified dimensions.

Colonel Moody didn’t have any immediate theories, and ultimately all of this would end up being well evaluated by men and women far better educated and well-equipped than a commanding officer of marine ground forces. One thing Moo did know was marines live by basics. You put on your boots and you walk into combat, and if that means you have to overcome the enemy by improvising a weapon and adapting to conditions that others can’t, so be it. It didn’t change the rules. Marines live by basics, from commandant to buck private, and in this situation, the basics were becoming clearer and clearer to one Lieutenant Colonel Moody.

Hughes was either insane or being held hostage. Either possibility demanded a response by Argent’s crew. Moody knew Jason Hunter’s mission was to take Hughes into custody on charges of dereliction of duty, and Moo was sworn to carry out his captain’s orders. However, if the Admiral were being held hostage, as Colonel Atwell had implied, then a rescue was called for. Either way, Moo had to find a way to get to the Admiral and ascertain once and for all where he stood in all this.

If what the captain had heard aboard the alternate-universe Dunkerque was true, Hughes would seem to have implicated himself in a plot to overthrow human governance and potentially attack his own kind. Moo was willing to believe that up to a point, but he also knew Charles Hughes was a decorated Skywatch officer with nearly 30 years of service. He was a former frigate skipper who had won numerous engagements as part of the squadron that gave Argent’s planetside command group both its seal and its name. His record and achievements vaulted him to the Admiralty at a time when it was nearly impossible for a line officer to be spared. He was not a man likely to defect. He certainly wasn’t a man likely to commit an act of wanton treason under enemy fire.

No, there was something else going on here, and Moo was beginning to wonder if the strange sensations he was experiencing might have something to do with it. Atwell had made it all very clear. The human fleets were meant to kill each other and leave the nearby civilian worlds undefended. The Ithis were ready to empty Hughes’ mind to make that happen.

But Atwell said something else that stuck with the colonel. He made a direct threat against Moo’s captain. He said they were going to make mankind extinct and that they were going to start with Jason Hunter.

Why?