“There’s just one of them, Tin,” she said.
“I know, Mags, but you’ve seen what a single Siren can do, and it’s not just Hell Divers on board.”
His words trailed off, and he focused on his weapon.
Magnolia felt stupid. Of course Michael was scared, but not for himself. He was terrified of losing his family. She had only Rodger to worry about, and he was locked safely away in the medical ward with Arlo, Edgar, and a militia soldier to protect them.
Sofia had also joined the divers in the medical ward, and Magnolia was glad for that. The young woman was a mess after learning of Rhino’s death back at the Vanguard Islands. Magnolia didn’t want her out here tracking down a Siren in her current state.
“Timothy, you got a twenty on this thing?” Michael said over the comm channel.
“Last known location was in compartment fourteen, where it tripped a sensor twenty-one minutes and thirteen seconds ago.”
“So it could be anywhere now?” Magnolia said. “Don’t you have cameras you can access?”
“Yes,” Timothy replied, “but so far, the creature has not crossed into any areas where they are in use, and my scans aren’t detecting anything.”
The damn thing could be anywhere, and with so many passengers about the same size as the beast, infrared scans could give false negatives. Worse, the passengers were scattered among different shelters, the bridge, and the launch bay.
“Keep scanning, and make sure the shelters are sealed and protected,” Michael said. He wasn’t thrilled about it, but the two surviving Cazador soldiers from the mission had been dispatched to the bridge to guard Layla, Eevi, and the vital equipment while Timothy kept an eye on them.
Michael motioned for Magnolia to follow him into a well-lit passage. The emergency Klaxon blared all around her like a den of Sirens.
“Timothy, can’t you turn the damn sirens off?” she asked.
“If Captain Mitchells authorizes that, certainly,” Timothy replied.
“Do it,” said the captain’s voice on the open channel.
The shrill ringing died away as the two divers ran quietly down the passage.
“Mags, Michael, where are you?” Les asked.
“Just leaving the armory,” Michael said. “Heading toward an access hatch to compartment fourteen.”
“I already searched it. The beast isn’t there.”
“Shit,” Michael said.
“Exactly,” Les replied. “You two take the access hatch and search compartment ten, then eleven. I’ll work my way through thirteen and twelve. With luck, we can trap it.”
“Roger that, sir,” Michael said. “Good luck.”
“You too.”
Magnolia sprinted down the passage with Michael by her side. She was exhausted from the mission, but adrenaline fueled her, especially now that it had sunk in: there was a Siren on board.
But after what she had seen in Rio de Janeiro, she feared men more than monsters.
She ran faster, closing the distance between herself and Michael. He rounded the corner to an access hatch in the bulkhead. Unlatching the handle, he started inside, not giving her a chance to catch her breath.
“Going to have to use our helmet beams,” he said, flipping down his face shield. He bumped on the tactical light at the top of his helmet.
Michael went first, checking left and right with the beam. He nodded, and she followed him into a tunnel not much bigger than a crawl space.
There were few things she hated more than crawl spaces, unless it was a crawl space with monsters. And, damn it, why couldn’t she just get some rest?
“Timothy, bring up the schematics on our HUDs,” Michael said.
The red outline of an oval flickered into the translucent subscreen on her heads-up display. It was the first time she had ever seen what the guts of the ship looked like.
“You go left; I’ll go right,” Michael said. “We’ll meet at the hatch to compartment eleven. Timothy, mark that for us.”
A red dot came online, and she started moving down the left fork of the passage. The ceiling was just tall enough she could move at a crouch without bumping her helmet, and just wide enough that she could cradle the crossbow without scraping the bulkhead.
She checked her progress on her HUD. She seemed to be crawling along, barely moving.
The beam flitted across the metal bulkheads and overhead. It lit up a clump of something on the floor.
It didn’t take long for her to recognize it as feces, and not just any kind. The pink gunk was Siren shit. Shells from several large beetles protruded from the pile.
She was lucky she couldn’t smell anything while wearing her helmet.
Magnolia tried moving around it, but there was no way to do that without smearing it on her leg armor. She gagged as the pink slime streaked behind her.
“Gross, gross, gross,” she whispered.
Bumping on the comms, she reported the find to the other divers and militia soldiers.
“If it came that way, it could have made it to the lower compartments,” Les said. He cursed again over the line. “Everyone, head to compartment five. We’ll try and flank it.”
As Magnolia turned, her light captured something else in the passage. It was the bulkhead, or what remained of it.
Panels had been torn away, opening a jagged hole.
“Um,” she said. “Make that ‘um, shit.’ I think I know where it went.”
“Speak,” Michael said.
“It tore through the damn bulkhead in compartment ten,” she said. “Timothy, mark my location for the others.”
“Done,” replied the AI.
Magnolia moved on all fours to check the opening. Sharp edges of metal had been pulled back, and several wires stuck out.
“Yeah, this thing is definitely in the guts of the ship now,” she said.
Her heart skipped. Michael was right. This thing could do grave damage if it tore any critical wires.
“Can you get your light in there and see how bad the damage is?” Les asked.
“Can’t Timothy run a diagnostic?” she whispered. “I really don’t want to stick my head in there, Captain.”
“I’m not detecting any breaches in that compartment,” Timothy reported.
“Well, then your sensors are screwed up, because I’m looking right at one,” she replied.
“Timothy, is it possible this thing disabled your sensors?” Les asked. “Maybe that’s why you haven’t been able to pick it up on your scans.”
“Yes, but that would require an extremely cunning beast.”
“We’re talking about creatures that evolved to survive in the wastes,” Michael said. “It’s definitely possible.”
“Mags, check the opening,” Les said.
She scooted closer, training her crossbow on the doorway to hell. A few feet away now, she stopped to listen for any signs that the beast was still down there. All she heard was the hum of the nuclear-powered engines, and the gentle movement of air.
Holding in a breath, she sneaked a glance, angling her helmet downward.
The beam revealed debris-strewn compartments.
“I think we got a major problem,” she said. “A lot of wiring is shredded.”
A flash of pale skin writhed in the beam, and Magnolia jerked back, banging her helmet on a jagged piece of metal. The scrape prompted a screech below.
She scooted backward on her butt, keeping her crossbow on the ragged hole in her beam.
“Magnolia, do you copy?” Les said.
She didn’t reply, trying to keep her breath steady.
The screech echoed and faded away, but in its wake came another sound—a scratching that seemed to be getting louder.
Magnolia swallowed hard. She needed just one clean shot. If she got it, she would bury a bolt in this ugly bastard’s forehead.
The scratching stopped, but she could still hear something over the nuclear reactor and ventilation system.