A new voice spoke over the linked commtacts as Brigid examined the indentations in the mat-trans wall. “Can you elaborate on that, dear Brigid?” It was Mohandas Lakesh Singh, popularly known as Lakesh, the leader of the Cerberus operation and a man with an incredible history with the mat-trans project. A theoretical physicist and cyberneticist, Lakesh had been born in the twentieth century, where his expertise had been applied to the original development of the mat-trans process. A combination of cryogenic hibernation and organ replacement had seen him emerge in the twenty-third century as the leader of what had begun as a covert rebellion against Baron Cobalt, but had ultimately developed into something even more noble—the Cerberus organization.
Brigid ran her fingers along the indentations in the armaglass. “Regular relative placement, three score marks each time,” she said, thoughtfully. “These are claw marks.”
Kane looked at her and nodded grimly. “Same thing I was thinking, Baptiste.”
Lakesh sounded thoughtful as he spoke over their commtacts. “A wild animal would not have the intelligence to break into a redoubt, nor the motivation to try to access the mat-trans.”
“Maybe no one broke in,” Kane said. “The place is waterlogged—could be a wall breach somewhere.”
“But look, Kane,” Brigid interrupted. “The claw marks around the door, the removed panels—this is a deliberate attempt to gain entry into the mat-trans. And Lakesh is right—no wild animal would do that.”
“Then it’s one that’s not so wild,” Kane retorted defiantly. “I swear, you brain-boxes and your logic—”
Before he could finish the insult, Grant came stomping in from the corridor where he had been scouting, a worried look on his face. “Wake up, guys—there’s something alive out there.”
“Something—?” Kane began, jogging across the room to the open door.
Brigid activated her commtact and signed off. “Lakesh, Brewster, we’ll have to get back to you shortly. Looks like we may have a situation here.” She cut the communication before either man could reply.
Kane and she followed Grant through the open door.
* * *
OUTSIDE, THE CORRIDOR was knee deep in water and its walls were streaked with mold. Its proportions were large, wide enough to drive a SandCat through without touching.
“Down there,” Grant said, pointing to his left.
Kane followed him, both men sloshing through the dark water, while Brigid followed more slowly.
“What did you see?” Kane asked, keeping his voice low.
“Can’t be sure,” Grant replied. “Looked big, though—either a leg or a tail moving just beneath the water. When it crossed into the circle of light it turned real fast and scooted back the way it came.”
“So it’s not blind, then,” Kane reasoned. “Just shy.”
“It could be whatever’s been tampering with the mat-trans,” Brigid proposed in a whisper.
“Could be,” Kane agreed as the group continued making slow progress along the corridor.
There was nothing there, just that knee-deep water and the mold, the sense of cold palpable all around them despite the environmental stability granted by their shadow suits.
The Cerberus crew trudged onward, sloshing slowly through the murky waters. The light of their xenon beams lit the dark walls and cloudy depths.
“I don’t like this,” Kane muttered, his nose twitching as he took the lead. Back in his days as a hard-contact magistrate, he had been known for his point-man sense, an indefinable ability to detect danger in what seemed to be the most harmless of situations. The gift seemed uncanny, but was in fact a combination of the same five senses anyone else had, but so acute it seemed incredible.
“What do you sense?” Brigid asked.
“Not sure,” Kane said, running the beam of his flashlight over the tunnel-like walls before them. He cocked his head, listening. “There’s something moving out that way,” he murmured, taking another step.
Without warning, he disappeared, sinking beneath the waters in a rush of movement.
“What th—!” Grant spit as he waded through the water after Kane’s disappearing form.
“Grant, wait!” Brigid called, reaching for the big man’s arm.
Although her strength was nothing compared to his own, he stopped when he felt her hand touch him. “Kane’s in there....” he began.
“I saw,” Brigid confirmed, “but we have to be logical about this or we’ll all get dragged under.”
Grant knew she was right.
“Kane, do you copy?” she called, activating the subdermal commtact. “Kane, I repeat—do you copy?”
Grant frowned as he looked at her.
“Nothing,” she admitted. She looked at the dark water in the harsh beam of her xenon flashlight. “I’d estimate this is less than two feet deep,” she reasoned.
“Maybe eighteen inches,” Grant agreed.
“Where we stand,” Brigid continued. “But Kane dropped, which means it’s deeper ahead.”
Grant nodded, passing her his flashlight. “Here, hold this,” he said. Then, following her logic, he sank down on his knees and crawled forward, hands sluicing through the water as he felt his way. “Hard floor,” he reported, “with a little give, like carpet maybe.” He reached forward, moving slowly. “Still floor, still floor...there!” He turned back to Brigid, smiling. “There’s a drop here, stairs maybe.”
She watched as he dipped lower, still reaching forward, testing the terrain. “Careful,” she said, when his face came close to the water.
“It’s all right,” Grant assured her. “I think I feel somethi—”
At that moment, Grant felt something wrap around his arm, and in an instant he, too, was dragged under.
Brigid splashed forward, playing the beam of the flashlight over the dark surface. “Didn’t I just say to be careful?” she muttered, gazing into the murk.
* * *
GRANT WAS SINKING. There was something dragging on his right arm, using its weight to pull him down in the water, deep down into the gloom. He had at least had foresight enough to take a breath as he’d felt the thing grab him, wrap around him, pull him down. Now he circulated that breath in his lungs as he was dragged ever onward.
He couldn’t see a thing, it was so dark. The only light was back up at the surface: Brigid using the xenon flashlight.
He would drown. That’s what was going to happen.
Forget about finding Kane for a moment, just save yourself, Grant told himself. You ain’t no good to Kane dead.
The thing held tightly to his right wrist like a manacle, a dark shape dragging him down and down and down. For a moment Grant saw something flash in the darkness, a row of teeth wide as his forearm.
As the creature opened its mouth for a better grip, Grant pulled his arm away, then kicked as hard as he could, simultaneously stunning whatever it was and propelling himself away, back toward the surface.
* * *
TOPSIDE, BRIGID BAPTISTE was standing at the edge of the deep well beneath the redoubt floor. It should not be there, she knew—redoubts