They had been walking for almost forty-five minutes. Every once in a while Asha would stop to listen, but Ben never heard anything unusual. She had led them through countless rooms and hallways, and Ben was beginning to think they were going in circles. There was no way one level of the ship could be so huge. Everything looked the same, though, so there was no way to tell.
Asha had always struck his interest. She'd been a Black Razor for a few years, rising through the military ranks of I/O almost as quickly as he had. She was good at what she did, he had noticed, mainly because she didn't let feelings - physical or otherwise - get in the way of duty. She didn't seem to feel pain - when she didn't want to - and she could fight almost better than him for that advantage. He had never seen her show any type of emotion - even anger - and she seemed almost robotic to him. Now, even though he didn't see her face except when she took off her helmet, her manner betrayed something not unlike fear. It wasn't the war of the situation or even the Pfhor she was afraid of, though. Ben couldn't guess what it was. But Asha was afraid, and angry at herself for it. Nearly every word she said was an obscenity, and she had a way of making the rest of them sound like it.
She stopped again and pulled off her helmet. "What the fuck..." she muttered.
"Miller," Ben said, removing his own helmet.
"Shut up," she growled.
"Miller," he commanded. "What are we doing?"
"We're following the fuckers," she replied. "Sir," she added.
"Why, Miller? Is there any point to it?"
She paused, and a flicker of something crossed her face. "I'm sorry, sir. I fuckin' got carried away." Her face and tone were icy.
He decided that there was nothing more he could do, so he looked around. "Where the hell are we?"
Nobody replied, so he strained himself to retrace their footsteps. After a few minutes he gave up. "Shit."
"Sir," Asha said.
"What?"
"Sir, I hear an elevator."
Ben listened for a moment. "Are you sure?"
She nodded.
He listened again. Still nothing. "Where?"
She paused, and finally pointed back down the hall. "That way."
She's gotta be crazy, he thought, and turned to Marcois, desparate for a second opinion. "What do you think?"
The Frenchman shrugged. "I saw no door back there but the one we used."
"Are you doubting me, sir?" Asha asked pointedly.
Ben closed his eyes, trying to remember. "When was the last time anybody saw a terminal?"
"In the last room we went through," Asha said.
He didn't remember. The last room had been a while ago. "What logo was on it?"
She didn't answer for a moment as she tried to remember. "It wasn't one of ours," she said.
"Crap. So it was Pfhor." This wasn't a question.
"How the hell should I know?"
Ben didn't pay any attention. "So that would mean they're on our network... Shit."
"Monsieur," Marcois said, "there is another door there."
"We're already fuckin' lost-" Asha began.
"-Which is why we have nothing to lose," Ben cut her off. He put his helmet back on and approached the door about two hundred yards ahead.
Behind him, Asha locked her helmet on and cocked her pistol. Her voice came over the transmitter, thin and mechanical. "Let's get movin'. Open the door, sir."
The door slid open, and as the Black Razors stepped into the room it came alive with Pfhor that teleported in. Five of them were dead before they touched the ground, but the humans' guns weren't shooting fast enough. Ben quickly learned to find and shoot the aliens that were crouched and ready to fire a shock bolt, and his sheild damage went down considerably.
More and more of the tall, gangly creatures materialized into the room. Just when the humans began to push their numbers back another wave would be teleported in. "Sir, we got to get out!" Marcois cried.
"You two, step back," Ben ordered. He pulled out his MA-75B in exchange for the fusion gun and blasted the nearest Pfhor with the machine gun. When a big enough space in front of him was cleared he fired a grenade into the middle of them. It exploded, and at least fifteen of the frail creatures were knocked backwards, dead. He got a few more of the bombs out, clearing most of the room of Pfhor, before another group was beamed in.
"Sir, these fuckers aren't gonna stop coming," Asha said.
He kept firing the machine gun. "They have to sometime. And we'll have to kill them eventually, anyway." He glanced at his console. Sheilds were down to less than half of 2X. Behind the Pfhor was a 3X generator.
Another shock bolt hit him. "Shit! Miller, Marcois! How are your sheilds?"
Asha was at a quarter of her 3X, and Marcois had a little more.
Nodding, he launched two more grenades. With a space cleared, he began to run, shouting, "Cover me!" to the two Black Razors behind him.
"What the fuck?!" Asha yelled.
He was a the generator and restoring his sheilds before the next group of Pfhor beamed in. They didn't notice him, so when his sheilds indicator was completely purple he drew his fusion gun again - with Asha and Marcois on the other side he couldn't afford the stray bullets from the MA-75B - and fired on the aliens.
Now not only the tall, skinny ones were coming, but also the stockier machine-gun-toting ones, tall ones with robes and long, pinkish flame throwers, big floating ones that opened up their robes and fired energy bolts and disappeared when killed, and the huge monsters with the plasma cannons on their shoulders. Ben let Asha take care of these with her .44, remembering how they exploded with the fusion bolts. The aliens always beamed in facing away from him, so he recieved substantially less damage than before. By the time one of them would realize he was there and turn around it was probably already dead.

The room was empty save for piles of dead Pfhor and the three Black Razors. Asha and Marcois filled up their shields while Ben searched the bodies for discs. He found three, and tucked them into his suit. The priest-like aliens had dropped their guns intact, and Ben found that he could use them, even though their ammo didn't last long. He approached the other two. "I've gotta find a terminal," he said.
"That was fuckin' stupid," Asha replied, devoid of emotion as usual.
"What?"
"You ran two hundred yards across this room with a bunch of fuckin' ET's phasing in right behind you. You coulda fuckin' been killed."
"I was gonna be killed if I didn't get some sheilds."
"We coulda shot you, Santini." She pulled off her helmet and glared at him.
Ben followed suit. "You're a better shot than that, Miller. It's a standard fucking operation. You've trained for it a million times."
"Yeah, you have the enemy covered on both sides. You don't fuckin' go through the middle of 'em." Her voice was still calm and bland.
"Listen, Miller. They're all dead now, and we're still alive and well."
"The ends justify the fucking means," she muttered sarcastically.
"In this case, yes. Now help me find a terminal."
Marcois opened a door at the back of the room. "Ici, monseiur."
"What?" Ben turned around.
The Frenchman nodded to the door he'd just opened. It revealed a small closet-sized space with a terminal at the back of it. As Ben got closer he could see the Marathon logo and Leela's name on the screen. "Excellent," he said.

Well done. The diplomat was right about you and your team. You walked into the middle of another invasion. The Pfhor didn't expect anybody to be in this part of the ship, and they were teleporting in reinforcements. You've saved us a lot of trouble. Captain Blake is safe. We have made sure of it.

A picture appeared on the screen. It was one of the tall, thin Pfhor. It was green and in the crouched firing position, shock stick ready.

This is a Fighter. They are the main Pfhor troops and guards. I don't know how to operate their weapons, bit if you can figure them out, nobody's stopping you. I see you've already worked out the Enforcers' weapon. The ones carrying machine guns are Troopers, more elite soldiers. They have slightly better sheilds than the Fighters, as I'm sure you've noticed.

The next picture was a large, beige Pfhor with a shoulder cannon.

The big ones are Hunters. Their armor is operated by electricity, as I'm sure you have already seen.

Now she showed him a drawing of the phantom-like, floating alien.

This is a S'pht Compiler. They are slaves of the Pfhor. As far as I can tell there are several clans of S'pht, and each of them looks different. I'll give you more information as I find it. You have the discs. Good. I think a few of the ones you killed were teleported to this room when the Pfhor realized you were here, and that's why they had discs. I have that door open, so I'm taking you to shut down the computers. Your comerades will be able to fend for themselves. ****JUMP PAD READY**** ******PREPARE TO TELEPORT******