He breathed in. The air felt a little less thick in his lungs, the jungle greener than it had been in years. A few birds still sang. Maybe this was just a rose-tinted memory, maybe it was real.

Jan sat on the stump of a felled tree, cleaning his dotbow. Occasionally he would glance up to check Eva hadn’t strayed too far. He watched her for a while, wading in the stream, lost in her investigations. Smiling, he returned to his task.

Her life hadn’t afforded her many chances to play so freely. Patrols from the settlement covered this ground regularly, removing any of the more virulent outbreaks of false life. They had erected a palisade around the central group of huts, and dammed the stream upriver to provide a reliable supply of power. It was a vast improvement on some places they had stayed over the years.

Eva came bounding up to him, still at the age where, given the choice, one tends to run everywhere. She was holding what appeared to be a fat, transparent piece of glass. Perhaps it was something old, washed out of the refuse pits upstream. Some kind of lens? He put the dotbow aside.

Eva held up the disk awkwardly with one hand, pushing wet hair away from her face with the other. It was about the size of a watermelon, and up close appeared more like rubber than glass.

‘It came off the false plant,’ she said, pointing to a stem, lying collapsed in the stream. ‘It’s like the glass in your binoculars. So that it can suck in more of the light to eat.’

‘I think you’re right,’ Jan smiled, shaking his head. She amazed him every day.

‘But it doesn’t work very well,’ she admonished.

‘Oh?’

‘No ‘cos it’s from the Dyn’s home and not from our world. But I haven’t seen this kind before. And look!’ Eva exclaimed, grabbing the organic lens and pulling it apart; it deformed like wet paper and split along its midline. ‘It’s squishy!’

She giggled as he made a show of avoiding her hands as she reached to wipe them on him, batting them away ineffectually.

‘Have you made a record of it in your book?’

‘Not yet, but I will later after I’ve done my investigations.’

‘Okay. Why don’t you see if you can find another one?’ Jan suggested.

‘No. They’re all the same,’ she said, face screwing up for a moment. ‘All the false plants are copies of each other.’

‘But they don’t all look the same.’

‘No but they’re still copies. Miss Adisa says it because they don’t have flowers or pollen. So they don’t mix like real plants do.’

‘I think that she’s right,’ he said eventually. Eva would get upset if he didn’t try to keep up.

‘She is. But I don’t know why,’ she said, looking down at her feet as if embarrassed, ‘The plants can’t be exactly the same, not all the time. If the plants never ever changed, then how would they have gotten like how they are now?’

‘Suppose they were always like this?’

‘It doesn’t work like that,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘The plants weren’t always like this, so something made them change, so they’re still changing.’

‘Hmmm… Maybe you should ask your teacher?’

‘I really like Miss Adisa, she’s so clever and pretty. Can we stay here dad?’ Eva pleaded. Jan felt a pit in his stomach.

‘I hope so,’ he said simply, praying she didn’t push the issue.

‘I’m going to keep looking,’ Eva announced.

‘Go ahead. I’ll be right here,’ Jan said absently, picking up the dotbow again.

As Eva skipped back to the stream, Jan glanced past her and up to the opposite bank, at the rows of pale, translucent stems. She was right, now that he really considered the question. The false plants didn’t pollinate or breed the way earthly crops did. They just spread, a constant creeping tide. A feature of his world no more remarkable than sunrise or the afternoon rains; he’d never thought to question it.

Eva’s investigations soon changed tack, and she spent the next hour rooting around in the stream, trying to catch the tiny Dynic ‘fish’ that occasionally darted past her. Then they went for a swim together.

They returned to the settlement in the late afternoon, Jan carrying an exhausted Eva on his shoulders.

It was good here. Eva was settled, happier than he remembered her being in a long time. There was a local school and Jan had found steady work so far, repairing damaged motorcycle engines and generators. But how long would it last? How long did it ever last, before this settlement was registered? How long before they were driven out?

Much later, Jan was woken by the sound of stifled sobbing. He rolled off the sleeping mat and reached for an acetylene lamp, igniting it and bathing their camp in flickering orange light. It was a sweltering night, so they’d brought their mats outside.

A few other huts and tents were visible against the black silhouette of the palisade wall, and above the wall and the treeline beyond the night sky was strung with stars. The Other Moon was high in the cloudless sky, tracking across the Milky Way like a ship traversing some great river.

Eva was curled up on her own mat, her small form shuddering. Jan moved quickly and sat beside her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

‘Eva what’s wrong? ’ She turned away from him miserably.

He scooped her up in his arms, holding her close. Inconsolable, her body convulsed as she sobbed, tears rolling down her cheeks.

‘I’m sorry dad.’

‘You’ve nothing to be sorry about. What’s the matter?’ he asked.

‘It’s the Shadows,’ she whispered, between sobs. ‘They’re out there, in the sky.’

The Shadows, Eva’s term for her night terrors, as far as he’d ever discerned. She’d suffered from them for as long as he could remember. He was immediately on edge. Instinctively he cast his eyes around. This wasn’t a bad one, but they’d been kicked out by spooked locals enough times before.

‘The ships?’ Jan glanced up for a moment, noticing a couple of faint sparks; Dynic drives.

‘Not the ships.’

‘Don’t be frightened,’ Jan smiled stiffly. ‘None of it can hurt you.’

‘The Dyn can hurt us,’ Eva snapped, writhing away from him. ‘They could kill us all right now, if they wanted to.’

Jan winced at that word. He wondered what he ought to say; he’d always done his best to never lie or conceal things from Eva. She could always tell when he was lying. Some childhood fears were irrational, but not all.

‘If the Dyn come, or Arco, or anyone else, I’ll protect you,’ he said, reaching across and squeezing her hand.

‘Not from them. The Shadows. They get you in your dreams. They’re out there, hiding in the spaces inbetween. Waiting for us.’ Jan cupped her anguished face in his hands.

‘Eva, look at me,’ he said desperately. ‘I promise that I’ll protect you.’

The dream ended as it always did, in fire and noise. Jan staggered, injured and dazed from the blow the Arco troopers had struck.

‘Eva!’ he cried, over and over, his voice hoarse. In the distance, a big twin-rotor transport helicopter lifted away from a forest clearing, beating clear of the smoke. Despairing, he fell to his knees, the world collapsing in on him.

‘Jan.’

Jan awoke with a jolt, a firm hand resting on his shoulder. Instinctively he pushed it away, frantically rummaging for the photo. Panic rose in him as his hands searched for the glossy, crumpled paper, to no avail.

‘Jan,’ Vash insisted.

As the disorientation of sleep cleared he remembered and a renewed sense of loss settled over him. The photo was gone; torn to shreds by Tuva and lost on the beach along with everything else. He couldn’t say he blamed her, though – she’d been right about him.

‘Jan… Christo’s dead.’

The words snapped him from his reverie. He hadn’t meant to sleep. The last thing Jan remembered was collapsing into his seat, exhausted after the concussion he’d suffered and the exertion of the day. The crawler felt like a lifetime ago.

‘I’m sorry. I know you were close.’

‘I barely knew him,’ Jan replied without thinking. The words echoed bitterly – he hadn’t meant it like that.

He stood, stretched aching muscles and shivered. It was cold. The view outside the porthole had shifted imperceptibly from blue-black to just black; the floodlights served only to emphasize that fact, illuminating nothing.

Christo’s body had been laid out, as much as that was possible whilst leaving room to move about the confines of the bathyscaphe. Even so, Jan was forced to step gingerly over his feet, two scuffed boots protruding from beneath a plastic sheet.

Crouching by Christo’s side, Jan folded back the pall. In life, Christo had radiated passionate intensity, charisma, self-assurance. Now all Jan could think was how young the man looked. Had their positions been reversed, he had no doubt Christo would have said something meaningful and bittersweet, but the words eluded him.

‘I hope he died dreaming of his beautiful future,’ Jan said to no one in particular. Vash smiled sadly.

Jan recognised this face from the graffiti sprayed on the walls of the settlements he passed through, the same tired exhortations to ‘string up the puppet’ stencilled beneath. Yet Vash didn’t read like a traitor – Jan had had enough contact with the venal and the nakedly self-interested to know the signs. There was no sign of haughty superiority in those grey eyes, nor the sneering contempt that radiated from the vast screens that adorned the Conurbations, delivering the diktats and veiled threats of those above.

‘You dreamt of your daughter?’ Vash asked.

For a moment Jan bristled, but the quiet compassion in Vash’s voice took it out of him. He nodded.

‘How did you know?’

‘When you spoke of her, you spoke in the past tense.’

‘I shouldn’t have. She’s gone but I don’t know that she’s… gone. I convinced myself that she was but then… ’ Jan trailed off – he’d said too much. Not that Aurelie didn’t already have him sussed. ‘Do you have children, a family?’

‘I did,’ Vash replied, a gentle smile playing on his lips. ‘But that was a long time ago.’

Jan gestured towards where the Dyn lay, still dormant, just waiting out the ride.

‘You still haven’t killed it,’ he prompted, cautiously.

‘Have you seen a Dyn die, Jan?’ Vash asked. Jan nodded, thinking back to the pitchfork.

‘There is a lot of violent thrashing.’

‘Then you’ll agree it’s probably best not to risk it in such a confined space. Besides,’ Vash added almost as an afterthought, ‘there are questions I need answers to. Maybe the Dyn can help.’

He was interrupted by a sound like a gunshot that reverberated through the hull. Everyone but Aurelie cringed, furtively scanning the metal walls of their submarine prison.

‘How long has that been going on for?’ Jan asked, unnerved. Pao and Tuva glanced over.

‘About an hour or so. Turns out the hull was damaged after all,’ Pao shrugged.

‘I’m amazed you slept through it,’ said Tuva.

The hull boomed again, twice in quick succession this time.

‘Jan, sit down and strap in,’ ordered Aurelie. He didn’t need to be told twice.

‘How worried should we be?’

‘Don’t worry. Won’t help,’ said Pao. ‘If the hull gives out, there’s nothing we can do.’

‘Is that supposed to be reassuring?’

‘It’s a fact. If there’s a breach when we’re at this depth, well…’ Pao mimed his fist smacking into his palm and made a squelching noise.

Tuva rolled her eyes, but the feigned nonchalance was unconvincing.

‘Where’s our rescue, Aurelie? You seem to have this all figured out, when’s it getting here?’ she asked. Aurelie ignored her.

‘The Warseed will be keeping a low profile – if it acts too fast it risks alerting the Dyn,’ explained Vash.

‘Yeah and if it doesn’t hurry up then the only question is whether it finds us suffocated or crushed by the time it gets here,’ retorted Tuva, her feet drumming a nervous tattoo.

‘Tuva!’ snapped Pao, exasperated. ‘We get it, you’re anxious, but can you stop fidgeting and shut up? You’re driving me crazy.’

Jan looked around the confines of the capsule, searching for something to focus his attention on. Anything to distract him from their predicament and Christo’s lifeless form. It was futile – he’d scanned every inch a hundred times by now.

And then he noticed a new, unwelcome detail; a tiny hairline fracture in the glass of the porthole.

‘Aurelie…’ Jan cautioned, his voice plaintive. What had he been planning to say? What would they do; patch it up, against half an ocean’s pressure?

One by one the others noticed, falling silent and still as though they were somehow responsible, their quarrels immediately cast aside. Even the Dyn stirred at last, locking a wary eye on the glass.

The hull shuddered and the weight distribution of the bathyscaphe shifted dramatically, as one of the external tanks tore away from the hull and drifted upwards. The depth gauge started to click faster as their descent speed increased. The bangs grew in frequency, getting louder and more urgent, like the oppressive blackness beyond was trying to break its way in. Like Eva’s Shadows had finally come for him, as well.

Pao spoke up, his voice flat.

‘If we lose another couple of tanks we’re not going to be able to make the ascent. We need to drop the ballast now, we’re already dropping too fast.’ Warily, he stood.

‘Sit back down,’ Aurelie warned.

‘Aurelie, this is crazy,’ hissed Pao. ‘We can’t push this thing any further. We gave it our best shot. It’s over.’ He took a step forward.

‘I said sit down!’

Pao made to lunge for the controls but was thrown back. Without warning the floor dropped out beneath them and the sub tilted through forty-five degrees, his cries drowned out by an agonised rending.

The internal lights flickered and went out, leaving only the glow of the floods leaking through the porthole, Aurelie silhouetted against it.

‘We will complete the mission,’ she insisted as Pao steadied himself. ‘Do not get in the way of that.’

Defeated, Pao bowed his head miserably as the hull groaned again, sending reverberations through the walls.

Another boom, another tank breached or torn free. Slowly the bathyscaphe began to spin. Jan found it hard to focus.

‘Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…’ cursed Tuva over and over, rocking back and forth. Vash had closed his eyes, and though his expression betrayed nothing he held the straps in a death grip. Even the Dyn’s alien physiology screamed tension.

Aurelie stared straight ahead, seemingly transfixed by the void beyond the glass. Was she reflecting on her life? Was she scared? Was she praying?

The crack was spreading. Jan screwed his eyes tight, trying frantically to relive every happy memory he had, to hold the image of Eva in his head. Each time some new, tortured cry emanated from their metal coffin he’d instinctively open his eyes and his concentration would break.

He saw something through the porthole. A glint in the darkness. Had he imagined it? The erratic rotation of the bathyscaphe brought the object into view again. There was definitely something out there. In an instant it went from little more than a suggestion of movement at the very limits of perception, visible only by how the light caught the bubble it was encased in, to a dark, vaguely oblate form, hurtling at them out of the bathyal gloom.

He made to cry out in warning, bracing himself, but it was already upon them, engulfing the bathyscaphe in a material that flowed like mercury.

The impact was softer than it should have been, though still enough to knock them back. Jan exhaled in astonishment, too stunned to speak. They were alive!

He saw Aurelie, vindicated at last, slacken with relief.

The tortured shuddering and groaning of the stressed hull ceased and the engine stopped. Even the air appeared to be thawing, and the lights switched back on as if they had passed into some new realm, no longer crushed beneath the abyss.

Pao was the first to break the dazed silence.

‘Aurelie… you were right,’ he laughed incredulously, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘But what on earth was that?’

‘The cavalry,’ Aurelie smiled, turning at last to face them, as they broke out into elated cheers. ‘We’re not alone. We’re not alone…’

‘And those bastards in orbit aren’t going to know what hit them.’