The scraping grew louder. Thirty meters. Twenty. Ten.
Then he saw it.
A shadow moved at the edge of his enhanced vision—something large sliding along the tunnel. His optical processors automatically adjusted, enhancing the available light, filtering out interference.
What emerged from the darkness froze the breath in his lungs.
The creature was about the same size as Phantom, but its thick scaled body hovered just above the ground on six insect-like legs. The front two legs ended in huge clawed appendages that dragged against the floor, creating the scraping noise. A ridge of spikes crowned its head and continued down its spine, a slightly darker shade than the rust red of its scales. The head was long and narrow, with multi-faceted black eyes, and the mouth was surrounded by multi-pointed mandibles.
His hand moved to his weapon, the worn grip a familiar comfort. He’d faced many dangers in his life—human enemies, environmental hazards, mechanical failures—but never anything like this. He forced himself to evaluate the creature for potential weaknesses, estimating its potential speed and strength as he gripped his weapon.
“Don’t!” she whispered urgently from above. “Don’t hurt it!”
He didn’t take his eyes off the creature. “It could be dangerous.”
“We don’t know that,” she insisted. “This could be the greatest discovery in human history. We can’t just shoot it.”
The creature’s head swayed, then focused on him. He tensed, ready to draw his weapon if it charged.
“It might be sentient. If those are symbols on the wall, this could be what made them.”
“Or it could be what ate whatever made them,” he countered, tracking the creature’s every movement.
The thing skittered forward several meters, then stopped again. Now that it was closer, he could see more details—the scales weren’t uniform but varied in size and thickness, with some appearing almost translucent while others were opaque and ridged. The subtle variations would help camouflage it on the surface—but if it was designed to live on the surface, what was it doing down here?
“Look at how it’s moving,” she whispered. “It’s cautious. Curious, maybe, but not aggressive.”
He wasn’t convinced. Predators often approached cautiously, assessing potential prey before striking. But he had to admit the creature wasn’t behaving like any predator he was familiar with. Its movements were too deliberate, too measured.
The creature suddenly produced the same resonant vibration they’d heard earlier—a deep, pulsing sound that seemed to emanate not from any specific part of its body but from its entire form. The tunnel walls vibrated in response, creating harmonics that made his head ache before his nanites filtered the overlapping frequencies.
“It’s trying to communicate,” she breathed, obviously excited.
The creature advanced again, now only about five meters away. Close enough that even Cass, with her unenhanced vision, could see it clearly in the dim light. He heard her sharp intake of breath just as the creature surged forward, covering half the distance between them with startling speed. His weapon was in his hand before he consciously decided to draw it, his body reacting to years of training.
“No!” she cried. “Don’t shoot it!”
The creature froze at the sound of her voice, its head rearing up until it was almost level with his head. It scanned the tunnel again before focusing directly on the ledge where Cass sat.
He saw the moment it found her. He saw its body tense and the subtle shift in its posture, the gathering of its muscles.
He saw it prepare to strike.
No time for debate, no time for scientific consideration. Only action.
As the creature launched itself towards the ledge—towards Cass—he fired. The energy weapon discharged with a high-pitched whine, the bolt striking the creature mid-leap. Its body convulsed, limbs flailing wildly as the current surged through its nervous system.
But it didn’t fall.
The creature twisted in the air, its trajectory altered but not stopped, and slammed into the wall beside the ledge, its scales scraping against the rock with a sound like metal on stone. Cass scrambled backwards, pressing herself against the back of the recess as Roland positioned himself between her and the creature, his small claws extended in a defensive posture.
The creature recovered with unnatural speed, clinging to the vertical surface with those insect-like legs. The wound from his weapon was visible—a dark patch where scales had been seared away, revealing something that glistened wetly beneath. But if it was in pain, it showed no sign.
Its head turned towards Cass again, and he didn’t hesitate. He fired again, aiming for what he hoped was a more vulnerable spot—the exposed throat beneath the raised head. The creature twisted at the last second, the shot grazing the side of its neck rather than hitting it squarely. More scales burned away, but still it clung to the wall, now less than a meter from Cass.
“Stop!” she shouted, but he couldn’t tell if she was addressing him or the creature.
The thing lunged for her with one of its huge front claws. Roland squeaked in alarm and slashed at it with his own small mechanical claws. The difference in size was ludicrous, and it seemed impossible that the armadillo’s efforts would make any difference but the creature recoiled, its scales flaring in what looked like confusion. It made that vibrating sound again, but the pattern was different—shorter pulses, higher frequency.
