Maren had just drawn a relieved gasp when the door on the opposite side of the hallway burst open, and one of the monsters launched itself at Gin.

A trap, Maren thought numbly as the black tendrils hit Gin, slamming her into the floor. Maren turned her gun on the monster but was a fraction of a second too slow; one of the tendrils hit her shoulder, knocking the gun out of her hand and making her stumble.

“Run, Gin!” Maren yelled as the second monster came out of the room behind them, but Gin was sitting on the ground, her face blanched white as she stared at the creatures.

Maren stumbled forward to put herself in front of Gin. Her heart faltered as she saw the beasts properly. While the monsters outside the station had shredded their human shells, Mark and Holly had preserved theirs as their true forms had slid outside. Each black monster, taller than and four times as wide as a human, had at least a dozen tendrils extending from its core, waving and twitching in the air. But suspended from the front of the mass were the remains of their human hosts; the bodies were limp like deflated balloons, swaying loosely. Boneless legs and shrivelled fingers swung each time the monster moved.

Only their heads were intact; they lolled on the top of the empty bodies. Their eyes followed Maren and Gin, and their mouths twisted into delighted smiles.

They need the heads to see, Maren realised as she hesitated a fraction of a second too long. One of Mark’s tendrils hit her side, smashing her into the wall, forcing the air out of her lungs. She gasped, trying not to be sick, as she collapsed to the floor.

Holly turned her attention to the stricken Gin as Mark cornered Maren, the smile on his face growing to unnatural widths as he advanced on her. Maren, breathless and unable to get to her feet, turned her face away from the spectre in front of her. She didn’t want to see Mark like that. And she certainly didn’t want to watch his face crack into that maniacal grin as he ended her human existence.

Her eyes landed on the red countdown screen. Twenty-eight minutes. Gin was right; it really would have been much nicer to wait for the flare. Much more… palatable.

She also saw the small black shell below the screen. While every room in the station had the flare warning system, only a dozen had those black shells. They held the cameras that monitored the main sections of the station.

Saul will be watching, Maren realised, dread flowing into her core and making her dizzy. I can’t let him see this. Can’t can’t can’t can’t can’t.

Mark leaned over her, and his tendrils, slimy and cold, latched on to and restrained her arms. Maren had no room to pull away, so she did the opposite and kicked against the wall, shoving her body into Mark’s as hard as she could.