Voices filtered through her helmet, but she couldn’t spare enough energy to listen to what they were saying. She twisted, desperate to get to the button, but the monster wouldn’t let her move even an inch. More squealing metal accompanied increased pressure on her right leg, and Mitzi knew it would only be a matter of seconds before the creature broke through her suit.

Then fire, bright and harsh, burst across her vision, sending her screen white as it overwhelmed the night vision. Skye’s voice came through the cacophony of sound in her audio: “Forward!”

Thank sweet mercy for Skye.

The night vision, unable to cope with the brightness of the fire above her head, switched off. For a second, Mitzi saw the Cymic as it actually was. Huge, black, and glistening, it looked like a hideous mutated slug with a dozen probing tendrils. Then the flames drew closer, and the beast shrank away from the heat, still reluctant to let go of its prey.

“Forward!” Skye yelled again. The flames connected with the monster, and a terrific, overwhelming scream rose from the beast, filling Mitzi’s ears and making her gasp.

“Volume down! Volume down!” she yelled, unable to cope with the noise. The flames above her flickered away from their target as her team cowed under the deafening, excruciating bellow. Then Nic adjusted something on his end, and the noise was reduced to a low rumble.

Gasping, Mitzi looked up. The creature still refused to let her go, but it had retreated to the lower half of her body. Its black skin had bubbled and burst where the flames had touched it, and plumes of black smoke rose from the holes. Mitzi, disgusted, pressed her left hand against the flesh and jabbed at the button on her neck. The suit bucked as it sent a shock of electricity through the glove, and the Cymic jerked, twitched, then burst open. The skin split in multiple places, its black liquid insides being forced out of the cracks. Then it sagged as though it had been deflated, and Mitzi was finally able to drag herself out from under it.

Hands gripped her under her arms and pulled her to her feet. Mitzi turned to see Skye, the anxiety on her face easy to see even through the cloudy helmet. Behind Skye stood Mir, Ellen, and Eoin, each holding nozzles with faint wisps of smoke rising from their tips. Franc had left his on and turned it to a low setting to provide them with light.

“Thanks,” Mitzi said, giving Skye’s shoulder a quick pat, then turned to Adam. He still lay on the ground where the parasite had thrown him, but he was stirring. Mitzi dropped to her knees in front of him and quickly looked over the damage to his suit.

There were dents across the chest plates where the tendril had hit him. Mitzi prayed that the suit hadn’t been crushed badly enough to break any of his ribs. It had knocked the wind out of him, at the very least. He was gasping, pulling in deep breaths as his legs kicked against the ground.