He’s holding, I project, my heart hammering against my ribs, a fierce, blinding surge of maternal pride and terror. He’s holding the line.
We need to blow the pod, Kade projects, raising his heavy, thermal-bladed combat knife. The C4 is on my belt. I’ll plant it on the seed while you extract him.
Do it, I command.
Kade moves. He doesn't run; the water resistance is too high. He lunges, his massive, armored frame propelling him toward the central seed.
I raise my rifle, aiming at the nearest assimilated mercenary. I squeeze the trigger.
The heavy assault rifle roars, the recoil jarring my shoulder. The shatter-rounds tear through the water, striking the mercenary in the chest. The chemical compound on the slugs reacts instantly with the programmable matter. The mercenary’s armor shatte
