Oh, great. The thing had somehow managed to short one of the batteries.

More grinding, the sound of metal being bent, scraping on the hull.

What the hell was it doing with those monster claws, picking the outside apart? First the light struts, then the pressure tanks, and now one of the two batteries?

So, it wouldn’t take long. Not if the battery was really shorted. The electrical system would drain, the lights growing dim. The pumps would stop, the motors would slow, the heaters would fail, and within hours, they would be hanging sideways, or upside down in the dark, getting colder, and each breath would be using up what little oxygen remained.

She glanced up. They’d just passed three hundred meters.

Outside the pressure was building, tons of water pressing down on all sides.

“Tam?” Jaim called. She’d always called her Tam. Hated to refer to her as Varina.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Think the kids will be all right?”

“Yeah. They’ve got good people to take care of them. Love them.”

“Like family,” Jaim whispered. Then shrieked as the sub was jerked this way and that as the great beast squealed and thrashed back and forth, as if trying the shake its prey apart. More metal could be heard as it parted with pinging sound. The hull groaned as the pressure built.

According to the depth gauge, they were passing five hundred meters.

With another bang, the lights went out, the hum of the pumps and fans stopped. Only the faintest hiss of air remained as their captor uttered another of those ear-grating squeals of frustration.

The hull groaned again, the sound of several thousand atmospheres of pressure squeezing them like a giant vice. Outside, beyond the transparency and the monster, everything was black.

47

The pain brought Michaela back. Terrible. Head splitting. Her stomach pumped, body bucking forward as she threw up. Then her gut contorted again, the agony like someone had driven an ax into her skull.

“Easy.” Casey’s voice came from beyond the misery.

“What the hell?” Michaela wiped her bile-filled mouth, blinked, aware of bright light, of a slow bobbing. She struggled with the image, trying to understand the water slapping on the transparency. Water? Where was . . . ? And it came to her. She was in the sub, strapped into the command chair. Casey was behind her, pressing something cold and stinging to the side of her head. They were floating? What . . . ?

“We’re all right,” Casey said. “Kel is preparing the launch. He’s going to tow us back to the Pod.”

“What happened?”

“That fucking lobster thing hit the starboard prop when it went past us to get at Varina and Jaim’s sub. Bent the guard into the propeller blades. We’ve got maneuverability . . . as long as we want to go in circles and listen to the sound of tortured metal.”