The bone saw had been dead for twelve minutes, but Caleb still had both hands on it.
The blade sat in the Wallbiter's chest like a knife in frozen bread. Around it, the Class-4 carcass filled the containment bay, gray hide pressed against the concrete walls and black blood running through the floor grates. The disposal crew had to open the chest before the core cooled. If the core crystallized, the Guild would call the carcass damaged and take the loss out of their pay.
Caleb leaned into the handle.
The saw coughed once. The motor whined. Nothing moved.
"It's not coming out," Gus said.
Gus stood on the other side of the cut, boots planted in the slick mess around the wound. His visor was filmed with grease and blood. He looked at the saw, then at the clock in the corner of his visor.
"We know," Caleb said.
"I was hoping the machine had changed its mind."
Above them, Vance's voice snapped through the local comms. "Stop wrestling it and get the spreaders."
Vance watched from the crane booth forty feet up, where the air was clean and the floor was dry. He had a cigarette tucked behind one ear and the contract clock projected beside his hand.
"We open the cavity before the core cools," he said. "If the Guild loses the core, they dock the whole crew."
"They dock us for everything else," Gus said. "Might as well make a list."
"Gus."
"Getting the spreaders."
Caleb released the handle. His gloves came away black. He crossed the bay to the tool cart, boots slipping where the blood had mixed with stomach acid. The suit's cooling unit had been whining since the shift began. Heat pressed against his ribs. The disposal yard called it a hazard suit, but it was still a rubber-lined box with a filter on the front.
The military had killed the Wallbiter twelve hours earlier. The military had taken the intact armor and the clean core sample. Caleb's crew got the part that leaked.
He picked up two hydraulic spreaders.
"I'm going in," he said.
Gus folded his arms. "You say that like there's a line of volunteers."
"There is. You."
"I quit volunteering five years ago."
Caleb climbed into the open wound. The inside of the carcass was warmer than the bay. His boots found the hard edges of broken ribs, then slipped through a layer of gray tissue. The smell pushed through his filter anyway. Ozone, rot, and the sour stink of a gut that had been cooking in its own juices.
He set the first spreader against the upper rib and locked the pin.
"First clamp set."
"Taking the line," Vance answered.
The overhead winch tightened. Cable groaned through the gantry. The carcass shifted under Caleb's feet.
He set the second spreader low, checked the latch, and reached for the pump.
The flesh twitched.
Caleb stopped with his hand on the handle.
"Vance. Did you move the line?"
"No."
The twitch came again, deeper this time. It traveled through the ribs and into Caleb's boots.
"Everybody out," he said.
Vance swore. "The core is still there."
The severed spine bent.
The Wallbiter rolled onto its side. The cable snapped with a sound like a rifle shot. The gantry tore loose from the ceiling and came down through the dust.
Caleb hit the concrete hard enough to lose his breath. A claw swept through the space where he had been standing. It caught Gus across the middle and threw him into the far wall.
Gus's suit split. He folded and stayed down.
Caleb pushed up on one hand. His visor had cracked from the impact. Through the white lines spreading across the glass, he saw the Wallbiter drag itself toward him. Its lower jaw opened too far.
Something came out of the chest wound.
The tendril crossed the floor faster than Caleb could roll. Its barbed end punched through his suit and struck bone. Pain shut the bay out of his head. He tried to breathe and got blood instead.
The tendril pulled.
His hands closed around it. The barbs went through his gloves. His fingers slipped. His chest locked around the thing as if the muscle could hold it in place.
Red warnings spread over his visor.
[CRITICAL TRAUMA]
[VITALS FAILING]
Caleb found the emergency control on his wrist. "Override."
The suit answered in a calm voice.
[OVERRIDE DENIED]
[EMERGENCY RECORDING ACTIVE]
The camera on his shoulder turned toward him. Its red light blinked through the dust.
The Wallbiter lowered its head. Small crawlers spilled from the wreckage behind it, blind bodies clicking over the concrete toward the warmest thing in the room.
Caleb reached for his sidearm. The holster had been flattened under his hip. The pistol inside it was a bent piece of metal.
Another message appeared.
[PRIVATE VIEWER CONNECTED]
[SUBSCRIBER: UNKNOWN]
Then a line of text.
[You look busy.]
Caleb stared at it through the crack in his visor.
The next crawler climbed over the broken gun and opened its jaws.
[I can help.]
The tendril pulsed in Caleb's chest. His vision narrowed to the crawler's mouth.
[I want the broadcast rights in return.]
He had no time to ask what that meant. The crawler jumped.
[ACCEPT EXECUTIVE GIFT?]
Caleb triggered the prompt.
The skylight shattered.
A delivery drone dropped through the opening and released a steel capsule. It struck the concrete beside Caleb, sprang open, and showed him a thermal machete and an injector.
He grabbed the injector first. The needle went through his thigh and the stimulant hit him like a live wire. His muscles came back badly and all at once.
Caleb picked up the machete.
The first crawler reached his face. He cut upward. The hot blade split its head and showered his visor with yellow fluid.
He caught the tendril with both hands and pulled.
It did not come free. His own chest tore before the barb did.
Caleb pulled again.
The tendril ripped loose with a piece of rib attached to it. He dropped it and rolled as the Wallbiter's claw struck the floor. Concrete jumped under his shoulder.
Three crawlers closed from the left.
The first died on the rise of the machete. The second caught Caleb's forearm before he could turn. Its jaws punched through the sleeve and scraped bone. He drove the handle of the blade into its sensor cluster, then kicked it away.
The third hit him chest-first.
Caleb went down under the weight. The crawler's legs scraped for purchase on his suit. He jammed one boot beneath its body, lifted, and turned the thing onto its side. The machete found the softer seam beneath its jaw.
The Wallbiter raised its arm.
Caleb rolled. The claw cratered the floor where his head had been.
He came up beside the open chest cavity. The next swing was already moving. He stepped toward it instead of away, the way he stepped into a carcass when a suspended load started to turn, and drove the machete into the hole between the ribs.
The blade stopped against something dense.
Caleb put both hands on the grip and twisted.
The beast seized.
He twisted again.
Something inside the Wallbiter broke. The carcass collapsed with enough force to shake dust from the ceiling.
Caleb let go of the machete. The stimulant disappeared from his blood. His ribs shifted when he tried to breathe.
Gus was still under the wall. Vance's booth hung open above the bay. No one answered the comms.
The drone hovered over Caleb. Its lens followed his face.
[That was entertaining.]
The message vanished. A larger notice replaced it.
[BROADCAST RIGHTS PURCHASED]
[PUBLIC CHANNEL CLOSED]
[VIEWER ACCESS: ONE]
Caleb tried the emergency channel. Static answered. His distress beacon disappeared from the corner of his visor.
The concrete rose toward him.
The last thing Caleb saw was the private viewer's name field. It was still blank.
Then the bay went dark.