Casey Lockhart's Arc

Chapter 2 of 5

The shack's walls bowed inward. Tentacles slapped the panels in a wet rhythm that never stopped. Casey watched a seam near the corner split. Green slime pushed through the gap. The creatures were close to breaking in. Behind her, the crate of sealed canisters glowed, still worth a fortune she might not live to spend. Yuri sat on the floor with his back to the buckling wall. He held a fresh bottle of vodka. She hadn't known he had a second one. He pulled the cork with his teeth and drank. "Give me some," Casey said. He stared at her. In a year of missions, she had never once asked. She always told him to work while she planned. Now she had no plan. He passed the bottle up. "To the money," he said. "To getting off this rock," she said, and drank. The vodka burned. She sat down beside him. The metal shook against her spine with every blow. They passed the bottle back and forth. The tapping grew louder, then split into a screech of claws on metal. Casey stopped counting the cracks in the wall. She thought about the pool of glowing green water she'd scanned that first hour, the one she'd meant to harvest next. She'd never touch it now. "You were a good boss," Yuri said. His words slurred together. "I was a cheap boss," Casey said. He laughed, and she laughed too, and for a moment the pounding didn't matter. Then the light changed. A thin gold line crept under the hatch. Casey blinked at it. The bottle was almost empty. She thought her eyes were lying. But the line widened into a warm glow across the floor. Outside, the screeching faltered. One creature shrieked. Then another. The wet slaps came slower. Casey pushed to her feet, swaying, and pressed her eye to the crack in the seam. Two suns were rising over the red rock. The first light hit the ridge and spread fast. The glowing octopus creatures writhed away from it. Their green bodies dimmed in the brightness. They dragged themselves toward the crevices and small caves in the rock, sliding into the dark, one after another. "Yuri," she said. "Look." He crawled to the crack and looked. The last creature vanished into a shadow. The ridge went quiet. Only the wind moved. Casey slid down the wall and sat hard. Her hands shook. She started to laugh, and it came out closer to crying. "They can't stand the light," she said. "That's it. That's the whole thing." Yuri raised the empty bottle. "Dawn," he said. Casey looked at the crate of canisters, then at the hatch, then at the sky through the crack. Daylight gave them hours. The shuttle sat on its landing pad across the ridge, waiting. She stood and unlocked the hatch. "We load the crate and we run," she said. "Before dark."