He made his way further down, well below where he was sure the waterline was. So far he was still dry footed, but that could change the second he opened any of the dogged hatches he had to pass through. First, though, he needed to get to the cargo elevators because they were located right next to the main auxiliary maintenance shafts, and those would let him get down to the flight deck and munitions stores below.

If he were really lucky, he might just get there and back off the ship before the unwelcome guests on his onetime home and command found him.

Yeah. That’ll be the day.

Eric was sure that Mr. Murphy was just waiting for the right time to make his appearance. Things had already gone far better than he’d expected, and that just asked for some sort of critical problem to crop up.

Oh well, nothing to be done about it. Onward and . . . well, downward in this case.

Gaia walked behind Weston as he descended into the depths of what had once been a proud ship, his ship. She felt his sorrow, his pride, his regrets as though they were her own. She had walked with humans many times in the past, reveling in their triumphs and consoling them in their defeats, but this time there was an urgency that she had never felt before.

The difference was between watching and being a part of something, because now was the first time in her memory that she herself had come under threat.

She found herself both thrilled at the sensation . . . and terrified by it.

“Turn left, Eric,” she whispered. “The next corridor is flooded.”

Eric turned left.

He couldn’t say why, actually, just a chill down his spine and the urge to take a longer route had come upon him as he laid eyes on the tightly dogged hatch ahead of him. It wouldn’t add that much to his distance anyway. He’d learned a long time ago that when you had a feeling, barring the availability of contradicting evidence, you should follow where it led.

Another heavy scratching sound, several decks away, sent shivers down his spine. The view of the corridors through his night vision systems wasn’t exactly relaxing, any more than the tight, abandoned corridors themselves were. Getting caught in an enclosed area by monsters like the Drasin was about the worst nightmare he could imagine. Eric was the sort of man who preferred the open sky to fight his battles.

Too bad we don’t always get what we want.

He reached the maintenance hatch, just up angle from the powerless elevators. Like everything else on the Odyssey, the hatch was built solid, with double-dogged latches and multiple breaks to prevent decompression in the depths of space. For a man in enhancing armor, however, they were pretty easy doors to manipulate.