Sarasti. His dead eyes stared from a skull split like a spiked melon. Globules of coagulating blood clung to his hair and skin like engorged ticks. “Go with him,” Bates said. Sarasti grunted and clicked. There were no words. “What—” I began. “Now. That’s an order.” Bates turned back to the hatch. “We’ll cover you.” The shuttle. “You too.”
