He loads a fresh bolt into the firing mechanism, his movements fluid and economical despite the roar of adrenaline flooding every available neuronal pathway.

"As always, your plan was sound and well-reasoned," says Rush. He backs away smoothly from the armored diving suit, firing trap bolts along the wall in a systematic serial loop, each one uncoiling neatly with the bright hum of electricity.

The ground trembles beneath the thing's feet as it turns and whirrs its drill to life in an anticipatory winding back before the inevitable bull-rush, apparently prepared to plow through the equivalent of five consecutive live wires.

Rush loads an incendiary bolt into the curved steel cross. "I'd get ready to move."