Nobody moved for a moment after Seris closed Voss's eyes.
The chamber breathed above them. The bioluminescent pools shifted with their toxic, patient luminescence.
The blue light made no concessions. It illuminated everything with the democratic thoroughness of something that had no opinion about what it was showing you and no interest in your feelings about it.
Somewhere in the distance, deep in the stone, something moved. A sound that wasn't quite a sound—more a pressure change, a suggestion, the facility's way of reminding you that the thing currently occupying its walls had not gone anywhere in any sense that mattered.
Seven survivors. The number sat in the chamber like a physical object.
Then Tank said, "Form up," and the moment ended, because Tank's voice in that register was not a suggestion and everyone present recognized the register.
