An anguished scream from above caused Michaela to turn. She heard the hollow rasp of metal on sialon as Casey’s rifle appeared, sliding around the Pod’s curve, gaining speed to fly free and smack, butt-first on the dock’s decking. With a crack, the stock splintered, the barrel and action taking a half cartwheel before clattering to the hard deck between two tendrils of slime.

“Sorry,” Casey cried from above. “It just slipped.”

“Well, get down here! Fly us the hell out of here.”

If there was any upside, it was that, unencumbered, Casey descended one hell of a lot faster. The woman made the bottom and turned, horrified as she gaped at the interlaced tangle of green engulfing the nearest seatruck’s fans, and where it piled against the hatch.

“Come on!” Michaela called. “Jump the slime. Let’s go.”

They needed Casey. Michaela used the rifle for balance, skipping and jumping to stay as clear as she could of the thin veins of blue-green that traced out over the deck.

Behind her, she heard Casey, shoes thumping on the deck as she followed.

Michaela made the door, swung up, and almost tumbled into the seatruck’s cabin. Kevina reached down, pulled her all the way in.

The look Kevina gave her was almost worshipful with relief. She pulled a long strand of blond hair out of the way as she said, “I knew someone would come. God, the waiting. I came out to see if anyone was here, figured we’d be evacuating. I was with Kel when he tried to close the Underwater Bay hatch. Someone had opened it. Let the slime out. The stuff just wound around his legs.” She pinched her eyes shut. “It pulled him down into the tube. Like it was some creature, not just mindless algae.”

“I don’t know if hearing that makes it better or worse for Vik? At least she won’t think she’s leaving him behind.”

Casey, whimpering again, had made it to the door. Swung up and pulled herself into the cabin. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” She flung herself into the driver’s seat, quickly adjusted the chair to her height and reach. Then her capable fingers began flipping the switches, hit the starter, and powered up the fans.

Michaela heard it. That straining sound. Even as Casey said, “What the hell? Port side’s not spinning up.”

Michaela clawed her way across Kevina’s lap to press her face to the transparency where it curved around the cabin. Her heart missed its beat. “Got slime in the fans.”

“Powering up,” Casey called. “Maybe we can chop it free.”

Desperate, praying, Michaela felt like her chest was about to explode. Come on! Come on!