The Xenocide Mission by Ben Jeapes

to,’ Joel said. More slowly:
Tx BR: I don’t think . . .
    More movement out of the corner of his eye. Two XCs were entering the bay with – Joel swallowed – a body bag between them. A dead human. Behind them, two more with a dead Rustie. Behind them, more bodies.
    ‘They really are sending us back!’ he exclaimed. ‘All of us!’ Surely, even Boon Round couldn’t complain about this.
    The XCs towing the dead Rustie entered the bay and Boon Round went berserk. His suit thrusters blazed and he dived into the small cortège on full power, sending the XCs flying.
    ‘
No!
’ Joel howled. The dream scenario, the magical answer to his prayer, was evaporating before his eyes. Boon Round ricocheted of the wall and flung himself at another XC. One of the Rustie’s flailing limbs caught hold of the safety rail on the catwalk and he swung round to crash into two more of the XCs; two more out of the crowd that was converging on the disturbance.
    And Joel, to his horror, saw weapons being raised.
    He set his aide to audio pickup and pressed it against the visor of his helmet, hoping it could detect the vibration of his voice.
    ‘Lifeboat systems command! Recognize Gilmore, J., Lieutenant!’
    A couple of XCs with guns were trying to get a clear shot at Boon Round, but several more of them were grappling with the Rustie, trying to get him under control.
    Words on the display . . .
    Gilmore, J., Lieutenant, recognized
.
    ‘Lifeboat systems command!’ His throat was already aching with the need to shout. ‘All systems override, open inner airlock hatch!’
    Complying
.
    A cloud of vapour erupted from the lifeboat entrance. A couple of XCs were picked up by the blast and sent spinning along with items of loose equipment and the unsecured contents of the lifeboat cabin.
    Joel set his own thrusters to full and dived into the maelstrom of condensing gas. He cut thrust as he felt the artgrav field take hold of him and his feet touched down on something solid. He reached out blindly for the handholds he knew were there and hauled himself into the main cabin.
    Tx BR: Get into the lifeboat!
he keyed.
    No answer. Joel repeated the command as he ran past the rows of seats, forward to the flight deck.
    Rx BR: I am coming.
    ‘Yes!’ Joel shouted. He dropped into the pilot’s seat and entered the commands that put all lifeboat systems on standby, ready for immediate launch. He felt the vibration through his feet, a distant hum as the flight systems powered up and the bars on the power displays moved up out of the red and into the green. The default destination, the step-through generator, appeared on the display and he punched another key to accept it and lock it into the nav computer.
    He twisted round in his seat to look back through the hatch and down the cabin to the airlock at the end. His hand was poised over the flashing red ‘launch’ button on the pilot’s desk in front of him. The hurricane was thinning out and the cloud of vapour was almost transparent now. The familiar shape of a Rustie appeared in the inner hatch, braced against the outrushing air.
    Joel’s hand came down. A slight vibration, the dizzy blur of the lifeboat bay rushing past the viewports, and the lifeboat was out into space.
    ‘Your four-legged moron, what were you doing?’ Joel shouted. He strode back down the cabin and the shout was futile because the lifeboat was still airless, but it relieved his feelings. ‘They were letting us go! They were . . .’
    The words dried up in his mouth. Behind Boon Round, he could see a spacesuited hand grasping the edge of the inner hatch. He moved slowly, cautiously forward, and angled round so that he could see into the airlock. An XC was clinging on for dear life with that one hand, and it was the upper arm – the one that didn’t have fingers as such but did have claws. Only the XC hadn’t been able to extend its claws, because that of course would puncture the suit. Its hold was precarious.
    The other upper