The great funnel of water rose up, like a brilliant emerald twister, and within seconds Tamas became just a faint shadow at the heart of it. Then the carapaces vanished. Everything was hidden behind a churning veil of liquid. The water didn’t exceed the circumference of the Tier, but it soared towards the curved roof of the chamber. Far higher than it had done with Azrael’s arrival. Blake pressed her earpiece harder against her ear.
‘Blake, ready the engagement protocols.’ Cym stood at the controls panel behind the glass window of Tech Room Two. ‘Prepare the inhibitors.’
She hesitated longer than was necessary, the memory of Cym pushing that serum into her veins still fresh. He couldn’t have given her more looks of anguish since, if he’d tried. But still. Pain was pain.
‘Technician copy.’
At this stage of proceedings, the carapaces would act as four singular, powerful magnets that would lock on to each of the incoming energy sources. Cym had to time the engagement precisely. Miss the opportunity for lockdown and not only did they risk compromising the energy sources – the gallu – but they risked the entire Facility. The radiation levels at Azrael’s Meld, before he had been locked into the carapace, had been dangerously impressive.
‘Approaching engagement. Ready for my go-ahead.’
Cym’s voice was a disembodied point of calm in the maelstrom. The Syranians she could see, Bel and Parator, stood with complete ease. Their faces were smooth of any distress or concern. Devoid of anything at all. The same couldn’t be said for the small number of humans in the chamber. Three white-suited technicians gathered at her right, faces lit by jade light, their awestruck terror clear in their expressions. Understandable. It was difficult to think of anything but the vibration of the earth, the immense energy that was building in the room. It was impossible to miss. Prickling, electric energy filled the chamber. Pressure before a great thunderstorm. The rumbling of the Tier Waters like a never-ending roll of thunder. Somewhere, in the midst of it all, was Tamas.
Blake blinked, trying to estimate which of the shadows dancing within the chaos was his slight frame. Whatever he might have believed he’d become, a good liar was not it. He’d lied. She’d known him way too long and he was far too transparent for her to have believed him when he’d said that Kira and Azrael had been located. She could forgive Cym for the truth serum; he had as little control of this game as she did. The Syranian did what he could, when he could. Not so different to her. But not Tamas.
She couldn’t wipe the image of him listening to her spill her guts. Witnessing her agony and doing nothing to stop it. She thought she’d seen a glimpse of something then. A coldness, a deadness in his eyes that hadn’t been evident before. But she’d avoided looking too closely at anyone for so long, she hadn’t been sure. When he spat vitriol into her ear before the Meld, it had removed all doubt.
He was lying about having Kira, but he was not lying about wanting to break her.
‘I really hope that hurts, you asshole,’ Blake whispered.
The shock wave exploded through the chamber, knocking her clear off her feet. The tablet flew from her hand, and the impact with the ground pushed the breath from her lungs. A ripping sound, like a hundred cracks of thunder laid atop one another, tore through the space. Blake cowered beneath raised hands, a paltry defence if the cavern was about to come down on her. It certainly seemed intent on doing so. The funnel of water burst, exploding outward in a shock of jade green. Liquid fireworks sprayed across the chamber. The captain shouted something in the earpiece, but she couldn’t make it out. The roaring around her threatened to rupture her eardrums. A huge shape towered over her. It took a moment to register that it was one of the mini cranes – toppling down. Blake cried out, scrambling to get to her feet. A figure body-slammed her, and they tumbled in a mess of limbs. Whoever grasped her, crushed her body against theirs, taking the impact as they hit the hard concrete. They grunted against Blake’s ear. The crane slammed into the ground right alongside them, and concrete chunks flew in all directions.
Green rain poured down on them, plastering Eron’s silver hair against his skull.
‘Miss Beckworth, are you injured?’
Winded, Blake waved her reply. Eron may have bruised her, but the crane would have killed her. Its impact had created a shallow crater in the concrete.Small pieces of shrapnel rained down on them, pieces of the chamber’s rocky ceiling, knocked clear by the force of the shock wave. One struck her on the cheek.
‘What happened?’ she gasped. ‘Are they here?’
‘Yet to be determined.’
She pushed herself to her knees. Her earpiece was gone, both it and the communicator dislodged in the tumble. The surface of the Tier was a smooth black. The waters showing no sign of movement, still as a mirror. Of the remaining three cranes, one had toppled in over part of the Tier, its furthermost tip jammed hard against the stonework edging, preventing it from sliding completely into the pool. The second lay overturned, most of it hidden from Blake’s view. Parator stood over it, hands outstretched into the air. The third crane had jammed into the narrow space between Tech Rooms One and Two, destroying the observation window of Two, and tearing a slash down the wall of Room One. Dangling between the rectangular rooms was one of the gallu, one of the females, still mostly harnessed into the crane. She thrashed about, tangling herself even more in the
