The hair on the back of Tessa’s neck bristled uncontrollably, sent shivers down her spine as the maddening clicking played along the writhing walls around her. It had to be close– eyes caught flashes of movement, hallucinated others. Breath came fast, desperate, eyes flicking, searching, heart pounding wildly. Hands reached for the sidearm again, curled around the grip. Only the fact that Izzy could be anywhere in the darkness had kept her from firing, but even that binding fear was wearing thin, nearing the point where it would finally snap and drain its last reservoir of restrained strength into her hand, guiding her to take action, to move in an attempt to preserve her own life in a panicked, last, desperate move. The justification came instantly. If it’s close enough, if the thing gets close enough... then there’s no way Izzy could be in the way... no way I could hit her...
And then, as lights suddenly flickered and flared to red, as impenetrable darkness gave way to a dim reality washed in crimson, she saw it– ten feet away and vaguely humanoid, skin like jellied sapphire, its monstrous body stooped low, headless and eyeless. Izzy was a handful of paces further and left, crouched, one hand on the holster of her sidearm as blinded eyes blinked, darted for the Cygnan. A cluster of thin, extensively articulated limbs extended wetly from a central torso of pulsing, sculpted musculature, turned the thing fluidly as pairs of flat, blade-like appendages clicked together at the ends of free arms in a semblance of alien speech. Carefully attenuated by the vibrations and tones that worked outward from the central structure of the blueskin’s body in waves of alternating intensity, the creature shot fragments of loaded tones and vibration into their ears, echoed sound into their skulls. All around them, the walls began to pulse, writhe as chrome veins pushed, contorted into bulbous shapes, boils of corpulent metal that grew like steel fruit on living, leaden vines.
“Run, Tess.” Izzy hissed through gritted teeth, eyes never leaving the Cygnan as it wove its surreal tapestry of living chrome into the thickening air. One by one it called spheres out of the pulsating metallic tendrils with clicking, gesturing fingers, directed others, worked steel into the air to create a hanging garden of ominous, mirror-smooth fruit.
“Fuck you” Tessa growled back. “I outrank you.” She glanced over, nodded toward the stretch of corridor that wandered on into the darkness beyond them. “You run.”
“I’m not going to leave you to fight this thing on your own, Tess.” Izzy shot back. “Getting Mac was my idea. I stay.”
“Like hell.” Tessa bit off. “Don’t make me order you to run.”
“A lot of good that would do you.” The traces of a mischievous grin pulled at the edge of Izzy’s lips. “You can’t court marshal someone for disobeying an order when you’re dead.”
“Well then, I hope you have a damn good idea right about now, because whatever our blue-skinned friend here is doing, I don’t think he’s going to wait around while we argue about who’s going to die or try to hammer out some kind of plan.”
“Oh, I’ve got an idea.” Izzy grinned, popped the clasp on her holster. “You with me?”
Tessa’s eyes shot for Izzy’s, locked with a stare that snared and bored back into hers, filled her with a fiery strength that seemed to cross the distance between them, kindling her resolve, burning away the fears, the nagging uncertainties. In the pause, she gave Izzy a quick nod, just the sharp edge of a movement that conveyed complete understanding and complete agreement. Fingers wrapped solidly around the grip of her handgun, mind rattling quick through specs at the touch, facts drilled into her brain years ago. Solomon Mark VII Compressed Energy Stunner. Effective stun zone, thirty feet. Effective kill zone, ten inches or less, major organ failure. Eyes shot to the Cygnan, fought off the fear and revulsion that crept into her mind at the way the thing moved, the way it clicked and tended its garden of mirrored chrome like some nightmare harvester. The Stunner came free almost at the same instant Izzy’s did, and as they both pushed off, rocketed up from crouched positions into adrenaline-fueled charges, one thought passed between them, crossed the impossible distance of air and absence of touch to burn brightly in open, terrified minds.
Ten inches from internal organs. Full yield.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
