Anna’s heart pounded in her chest, trying to find some kind of escape from all the crazy shit raining down on it. She took deep, gulping breaths, her mind still processing the dead Chittrix on the floor. Her eyes met Garrick’s, and her stomach did a little loop. How did he do that to her?

“You hurt anywhere?” He ran a protective hand over her shoulders and arms, then down her torso, checking for wounds. His hands were careful as they ran over her legs, provoking a deep thrill of pleasure that sparked from her ankles to the apex of her thighs. When he straightened his hands remained resting on her hips.

“I’m fine,” she said, her throat thick with emotion. The intensity of desire running through her was overwhelming, fuelled by adrenalin from killing the Chittrix.

She indicated the blood that had soaked through Garrick’s shirt and down his arms. “You’re hurt.”

He shook his head. “It’s not serious. I’ll deal with it later.” He glanced at the shattered doorway. “There will be others.”

He was still holding her. She reluctantly left the warmth and safety of his embrace, dropping to a squat beside the dead Chittrix.

Something had caught her eye. Her brow furrowed in concentration. “This one looks different. Not that I’ve done a lot of Chittrix dissections but…” She stopped, speechless.

What is that? I need to take a closer look.

Exhaustion wanted to drag her down to a quiet, dark place, but her curiosity was piqued. At the counter she pulled open a drawer, searching for surgical instruments.

“The poison sac will start to disintegrate in the next hour, dissolving the body. I want to look at this one, and I need to do it now.”

Garrick pulled a face. “Well, at least that explains why their corpses aren’t littering the streets.”

He walked away from her, wiping his machete against one broad thigh. “I’m going to make sure this one doesn’t have any friends.”

His feet crunched on the broken tiles and glass as he approached the doorway, and her heart skipped at little at the thought of him leaving her alone, but then she looked down at the dead Chittrix.

There have hardly been any Chittrix dissections. We know so little about their anatomy.

She pulled on a pair of thin latex gloves then placed a tray of surgical instruments on the counter. Crouching next to the dead alien, her brain shifted into scientist mode.

It had landed on its side in a wet, viscous pool. Its lower abdomen was a sticky mess of shattered chitin and fused, melted flesh where she had unloaded the SIG. The stench of charred meat made her gag. She pulled a white surgical mask from the supply cabinet and tied it at the back of her head. The odour of death still penetrated the fabric, but it was better than nothing.

On examination, the exoskeleton of the Chittrix was iridescent. Jade, ochre, and brilliant blue shifted and turned in a rainbow of terrible beauty as she ran her fingers along the ruined edges. Its mouth gaped open, displaying an obscene multitude of needle-sharp teeth. Translucent, their inner core was a pearlescent pink with an opaque tip, terrifying, even in death.

But the teeth were not what she was interested in. She ran her hand down its flank. The exoskeleton was smooth for the most part, with tiny ridges tracing the shape of the muscles beneath. As she ran her hands over the body her fingers traced several rough patches, where the chitin appeared more granular in consistency.

Garrick returned, breaking her concentration. She was glad to have him back, even if the Chittrix was dead. He crouched next to her, huffing out a tired exhalation, which caressed her forearm and made the breath catch in her throat.

He’s so close.

Blood was drying to a dirty brown crust on his right arm, but his left reached out and touched the Chittrix. Sleek muscle flexed under his skin, igniting an animal heat in her belly, and making her mouth go dry.

“Rest of the building’s clear. It’s getting dark outside and starting to rain. We should stay here for the night.” He regarded her with steely eyes, waiting for an answer.

“Oh.” Pay attention, Anna.

Anna took in the cold, smashed room. Her stomach sank at the thought of spending the night here. He must have seen her expression. “It’s not all bad. The police station is linked to the mortuary with its own solar back-up power supply. We can have a hot shower tonight.”

“Really?” Her voice went up a few octaves in anticipation.

He smiled. “Finally, someone’s cutting us a break.”

Anna glanced down at her grubby hands encased in latex. Grime made her scalp itch, and her clothes chafed against her skin.

She cracked a grin. “A shower is nearly worth dying for.”

She risked a sideways glance as images of Garrick naked under a stream of hot steaming water sprang into her mind. Intense slate-grey eyes returned her gaze compelling her to swallow and shift her attention elsewhere.

Anywhere but him, Anna.

“Help me roll it onto its back,” she instructed, slightly gruffer than she intended.

She reached out and placed her hands on the edges of the chest cavity. The chitin was not as firm as she expected and had a degree of flexibility, deforming slightly under pressure from her fingers.

“No wonder it’s so resilient. It doesn’t crack, and it’s got built in elasticity. Brilliant. Okay, on the count of three.”

They shoved in unison, struggling to shift it. Garrick grunted as he gave an extra thrust. “Bloody hell, how heavy is this?”

Finally, it tipped, slamming onto its back.

Its chest domed like a curved half-moon, jutting skywards. Garrick took a step back and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Ugly bastard,” he muttered.

Anna dropped back to her knees with the largest scalpel from the implements in the drawer. Around her, the six legs of the Chittrix were half-contracted like the legs of a dead spider. She had to lean between the primary two pairs as if inside an organic cage made of body parts.

She ran her fingers over the gritty, bumpy chitin she had noticed earlier, tapping it in points with the blade in her hand. “This. I’ve not seen this in any other specimens. Other substances are incorporated.” She peered closely. “It’s sparkly. Iron pyrites? I can’t tell without a proper analysis.”

“Iron?” His face was full of questions.

“Lots of species incorporate different materials into their exoskeletons. Some fish and turtles use dentine. Some molluscs and sea worms use calcium carbonate. It’s not unusual for native species here. But the few Chittrix I’ve examined previously all had smooth, regular shells, and their colour was uniformly black and grey. Recently, I’ve seen a few with yellow markings. I saw one at Magdon. And now this.” She paused.

Garrick followed the path of her hand across the exoskeleton. His fingers ran over hers sending shards of hot sensation to her belly. She took a breath, composing herself before she continued.

“This irregularity is new. I can’t be sure if this is a type I haven’t come across before or if it’s something far worse. Maybe they’re adapting to Earth, changing while they’re here, absorbing and becoming part of our eco-system.”

“Adapting to our ecosystem?”

She nodded. “Evolving. Insects are nothing if not adaptable.”

Anna hesitated as the ramifications of what she was describing sank into her brain. If they adapt, they’ll be harder to kill. Hell, they’re already pretty bomb-proof.

Sometimes, she wished she had done veterinary science instead of entomology at University.

She slipped her fingers inside the chest cavity, gripping the edges of rough tissue. Garrick followed suit, his arms flexing on the other side. Anna pulled, straining with the exertion, wincing at the wet splintering of the protective chest plates cracking open.

Her fingers traced bumpy ingrowths on the inside. She pointed for Garrick to see. “Apodemes. They’re attachment sites for muscles and ligaments,” she said, marvelling at the dense bundles of muscle and sinew that crisscrossed the chest cavity. “These are enormous, even given the increased size of this Chittrix. Relatively speaking, they’re far bigger than I’d expect for the size of the exoskeleton. It explains why their strength seems so great for their size.” She leaned forward, peering and tapping the surface. “These apodemes appear to be packed with the same mineral that’s infiltrated the exoskeleton.”

“They’re getting stronger and faster because of what they’re absorbing from the environment?” He rocked back on his feet.

Nodding, Anna began to slice through the white membrane that covered the organs of the chest cavity.

“Let me help.” Garrick took his knife from his belt and cut the tissue on the other side, further exposing the internal organs.

A ridged tube ran the length of the abdomen. It was rubbery and flexible in Anna’s hands. She pointed. “This is the heart.”

“But it’s just a tube.” Garrick gestured with the tip of his knife.

“It’s closer to our lymphatic system. It bathes their organs in this yellow fluid and pumps it through their bodies. Damaging one part won’t knock the whole thing out. This is why shooting them in the chest is so ineffective. You need to take out the whole damn torso.” She sagged backwards, resting on her haunches. “The level of evolution in these things is off the scale. I’d admire them if they hadn’t wiped out most of the world as we know it.”

She leaned forward, moving meat and sinew with her fingers. Inky fluid stained her gloves to the wrists. She was going to need to shower for a week after this. As she delved further, she exposed a large yellow sac that rested under black tubules.

Tiredness blunted the edges of her delicacy, and the point of her scalpel nicked the edge of the organ. She jerked backwards as steaming liquid ruptured through the tissue, dissolving flesh in an unstoppable process.

Anna threw out her arm, pressing Garrick back from the gush of fluid.

“Poison-gland reservoir,” she explained then dropped her hand from his chest.

Exhaustion roared in her ears.

“I should have known better. Sorry. Don’t know what I was thinking.” The scalpel fell from her fingers in sheer exhaustion, clattering onto the cold floor. “I think I’ve officially had enough now.”