“Ackk...ack!”

Kin recoiled, his chest spasming as his scream died in his throat. The thing with his mother’s face squatted in front of him and watched with those horrible, white eyes.

Scrambling on the rusted ground, Kin, shot out a hand to grab the metal, slipped, tried again, hit his head on something, and writhed backwards like a man possessed.

The thing with his mother’s face took a step forward.

“What is it, Kin? What is it?”

“There! Can’t you see it!”

“See what?”

“That thing! That thing--with--with--”

The thing with his mother’s face opened her--no, its mouth, revealing concentric rows of sharp-edged fangs.

Oh my god I’m going to die--no way out of this one now--

The thing with his mother’s face disappeared.

What?

“Kin, what is it? What--”

It didn’t leave. It didn’t even explode into a million pieces, or get cut to ribbons by something else.

It just--was gone.

One moment there and then the next it wasn’t.

No blood. No guts. Not even a lingering echo of a call or scream.

If Kin hadn’t just seen it, he would have trouble believing it was ever there. If it truly was in the first place.

Real? Was it real? Was it--

Kin’s chest convulsed as his heart tried to remember how to cry.

Too much. All of it.

All too much.

He didn’t cry. He had forgotten how. Just sat there, dry-retching and hacking as his diaphragm spasmed strangely in his aching chest.

After Kin had decided to pull himself together, he moved on. Got up and continued swimming.

No need to be cautious. If it had wanted me it would have already taken me. If it was even real.

He pushed the thing that had stolen his mother’s face into the back of his mind. No point scrounging about, trying to make sense of it. When he got to somewhere safe and dry and hopefully with air, he could think and ponder and cry all he wanted. All those things would be impossible if he was dead. So. Priorities first.

A door at the end of the pipe. About two meters in diameter and secured with what Kin recognised as a vac-lock. It was broken, the door turned slightly on its central axis, leaving a half-moon-shaped opening about sixty centimeters wide.

Kin squeezed through, noting the words on the pitted metal.

HALT! Warning: Bio-Containment Zone ahead. Please make sure to have observed all safety protocols before entry. If you lack Class 3 or higher access privileges, do not enter. Noncompliance may lead to liquidation.

And above, in bold black letters.

LORD.

None of it made sense. But when it came down to it, not much in the deep made sense, either. Understanding was a privilege afforded to the dry and comfy, those that didn’t need to fight their way to survival every second of their lives.

So Kin ignored the letters, ignored the warning, and continued to move.

The door opened up into a long, rectangular corridor that had more passages branching off from either side at right angles. The entire place looked to be something like the hospital that Kin had been sent to back at the Outpost after he fell and snapped his leg in a drainage hole, all clinical and cold and covered with rust.

Subject Monitoring Room

Dissection/Vivisection Prep

Decontamination

General Disposal

AC Armory

“Mion, what is all this?”

“Seems to be a hospital or research area to me. Tread carefully, Kin.”

You’re back, half-thing.

“What?” Kin spun around. “Who’s there?” He brandished his pressure pistol before realising that it was out of ammunition.

You are...different. Different from when we met. Your mind sounds...older.

Sounds tastier.

“What in…” Kin was starting to get unnerved. “Where are--”

Why did you run the last time, half-thing? Why did you flee?

Kin broke into a brisk swim, plunging further into the corridor. More aged and scarred doors surfaced out of the gloom, but these were different. These ones bore far more scratch marks than the ones before, and far more serious ones at that, sets of three parallel gouge lines carved into every other surface, the reinforced steel peeling like dead skin.

There was something living here. Something that could part metal like butter and had three fingers on each hand.

Where are you going, half-thing. I am tired of feasting upon my own. Come to me. Partake of me. Let me partake of you.

Kin started to feel a scratchy, fizzing sensation in his head, as if his thoughts were being marred by static. The feeling was sickening. It pushed on the back of his eyes and made him want to claw them out.

Kin rounded a corner into a reasonably large room, about eight metres tall and twenty across, and barely stifled a scream.

Hello.

He had found the thing that smiled.