A heavy thud shook the dining hall. A split second later, the galley erupted with a blast—followed by the sound of a wall collapsing.
“No—too loud,” Janiel said, panic sharpening her voice. “They heard us.”
“Move. Into the elevator,” Captain Myron ordered. Everyone surged inside.
Harangan ran back for Tyson. They were barely through the doors when a tall, dark robot—broad-shouldered and obscene in its proportions—appeared at the entrance to the dining hall.
Carlos held the rifle with one hand and Linneya with the other. Linneya’s eyes were huge as the machine giant charged straight at them.
The elevator doors slid shut just before it arrived, and the car began to descend. Linneya’s heart unclenched—just a little.
Then a deafening metallic impact slammed down from above. She screamed.
The ceiling of the elevator car bowed inward as if struck by a falling engine block. The giant had dropped into the shaft and landed on top of them.
“Everyone to the sides—down!” Harangan shouted.
He fired into the ceiling. Tyson fired. Carlos fired. Even Janiel drew her sidearm and joined the barrage.
In the tight metal box, the gunfire was brutal—earsplitting, vibrating through bones. The ceiling plate turned into a honeycomb of punctures.
It didn’t matter.
The giant returned fire. Dense beams lanced down through the holes, sweeping the elevator car with surgical speed.
Harangan and Tyson tried to shield the others with their armored bodies, but it was over in seconds.
The elevator became a slaughterhouse. Nearly everyone was hit. The last three crewmen were killed outright or went down screaming. Captain Myron took rounds through his back and legs. Janiel threw herself in front of him and caught several shots meant for the captain.
Tyson’s armor cracked in multiple places but barely held. Harangan wasn’t as lucky—he took the worst of it, rounds punching through the weaker seams across his chest and abdomen.
Only Linneya was untouched, because Carlos folded himself over her in the corner and took what he could on his own body.
Two or three seconds. That was all. Blood was already pooling across the elevator floor.
Janiel, pressed to the door panel, mashed every floor button at once.
The doors opened.
Anyone who could still move spilled out of the car.
Tyson turned back for Harangan. Harangan was slumped against the wall, his armor shattered, his abdomen torn open badly enough that he couldn’t straighten.
He forced himself to the doorway like he was leaving with them.
Then he shoved Tyson out and let the doors start to close.
Tyson barely caught his balance before Harangan snarled one last line through the narrowing gap.
“Tell Julian what I really think of it.”
The elevator dropped again. From the shaft came gunfire—and Harangan’s voice, furious and ragged.
“You weak little punk! That’s all you’ve got? Thought you were scary. Come to hell with me!”
His words faded as the car sank away.
A few seconds later—
A violent explosion roared up the shaft. Smoke and pressure slammed into the hall hard enough to rip the elevator doors off their tracks.
Harangan had detonated every grenade on his body.
When the blast finally died, the shaft went silent.
The survivors were in terrible shape.
One badly wounded crewman made it only a few steps before his body gave out.
Carlos had been hit in the shoulder and arm. The strike to his right mechanical forearm had only dented metal, but his shoulder was pierced clean through, blood soaking half his torso.
Linneya saw it and broke into open sobs.
Tyson’s exosuit was warped and cracked. He tore off his helmet—what remained of his left cheek, from the jaw up to the ear, was a mess of torn flesh.
Captain Myron was propped against the wall, coughing up blood. The wound through his back had punched through to the front of his chest; the dark stain spread with every breath.
Janiel lowered him to the floor and tried to treat him anyway.
Carlos cupped Linneya’s face gently with both hands and wiped tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “Shh. Linneya. I’m okay. Just a scrape.” He forced his voice low. “Don’t cry loud. You’ll let them hear us.”
Linneya clamped down on her sobs, but tears kept sliding down her face.
Janiel’s injuries were ugly—multiple through-and-through wounds, pale, milky blood leaking—but nothing vital had been hit. Compared to the others, she was still functional.
She worked frantically, but she couldn’t stop Myron’s bleeding.
“Tyson—do you’ve any hemostatic injectors left?”
Tyson shook his head.
“Captain, wait. I’ll find the med kit.” Janiel started to rise.
Myron caught her wrist with a trembling hand.
“No, Janiel,” he rasped. “I know what this is.”
With shaking fingers he unpinned the captain’s badge from his chest and held it out to her.
“The ship is yours now. Save as many people as you can.”
“No. If I can just find a med kit, you can—”
“That’s an order.” His voice surged for a moment—and then he coughed up a mouthful of blood. “I don’t care what you’re. From this second on, you’re the captain.”
Janiel’s mouth opened, words failing.
“Go,” Myron whispered.
He pushed the badge into her hand with the last of his strength. His head sagged forward. A few breaths later, he was gone.
Janiel stood in silence for a few heartbeats, then pinned the badge to her own chest.
She activated her headset and said, “Julian. ETA on the rescue fleet?”
“Approximately six minutes,” Julian replied. After a pause, it added, “I regret the captain’s sacrifice.”
Janiel swallowed hard. “Let’s hope nothing else changes. Otherwise none of us are getting out.”
She turned to the remaining few. “Rescue is close. We keep moving.”
They’d been forced off the elevator early, but Janiel quickly recalculated. She led them out of the lobby, found a stairwell heading down, and brought them into a supply warehouse.
Carlos and Tyson bracketed Janiel and Linneya as they moved. They didn’t encounter anything—no Exilers, no footsteps, no static crackle in the dark.
As acting captain, Janiel issued a rapid series of orders through her comms: crew in every zone were to shepherd passengers to the nearest transfer bay and hold for the incoming transport ships.
They boarded a wide cargo elevator and continued down.
Only then did Janiel start tending her own wounds.
Linneya looked up at her with trembling lips. “Captain… does it hurt?”
Janiel managed a small smile. “No. Not at all.”
Linneya hesitated, then asked, “Can you help me contact another… sister? I want to tell her I’m sorry…”
Before she could finish, the elevator jolted with a hard bump and a shiver ran through the car.
Everyone tensed. Carlos pulled Linneya behind him and looked up—then realized the danger wasn’t overhead.
Their eyes went to the seam of the elevator doors.
Water was seeping in.
“Water?” Tyson whispered, disbelief raw in his voice. “How is there water?”
The thin stream became a pour, flooding in through the gap and washing over their boots.