Two of the Marines carried auto-turrets. They would need them. Drake had seen what Xenos could do. He remembered his first Sergeant had bought the farm because of a Spitter. In a grotesque display of its victory, it had spit acid down the Sarge's throat. God, that sound would never leave his head. Drake shook his head. "Movement," a Corporal said. He was charged with checking the motion tracker. "Fifty mikes."

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Moonscar sprinted through the tunnels as fast as she could. She knew most of them by heart, and she was going to take a flanking position. Her sisters, being less intelligent, would probably take a more direct approach

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Wyvern froze once the translator in his Biomask repeated the human's words. His camouflage was active, and they couldn't see him. However, he should have known they'd have that technology. As frail and primitive as humans were, they could be remarkably resourceful. That's why they made such prized game, even more so to some than serpents.