Chapter 3
T he pod plummeted straight down, acceleration slamming her against the curved wall. She tumbled, gills flaring wide, the last of her torn clothes ripping away in the violent rush.
Through the glass she caught a final glimpse of the five blue males roaring silently in their own dropping pods, eyes locked on her with single-minded hunger.
Then the capsule screamed through atmosphere, exterior igniting in a blaze of fire she could feel even through the reinforced walls.
Greta was thrown violently against the curved walls, tumbling end over end as the pod shook and bucked. Heat bled through the reinforced glass—orange and white flames licking the exterior, turning the interior into a roaring inferno of light and noise. The water sloshed and bubbled.
Her newly formed gills flared wide, desperately pulling in oxygen while her webbed hands scrabbled for any handhold that wasn’t there.
She couldn’t scream. The acceleration crushed the air from her lungs. All she could do was cling to the molded seat with every ounce of strength her restructured body possessed and pray the capsule didn’t tear apart before it hit whatever waited below.
Whatever waited below.
Through the blazing viewport she caught fractured glimpses: a turquoise ocean rushing up at terrifying speed, scattered coral atolls, golden kelp forests swaying far beneath the surface. The planet was all water and living color, beautiful in the way only deadly things could be.
Except… as she drew closer, she could see it was no planet. No planet was a perfect rectangle, floating in space with an artificial sun circling it.
Kansas has well and truly gone bye-bye.
The turquoise ocean rushed up beneath her at terrifying speed, a vast shimmering wall of blue hurtling toward the capsule like it intended to smash her into pieces.
Then impact.
The capsule slammed into the ocean with bone-jarring force. Water exploded around the pod in a white shockwave.
Greta was hurled forward, cracking her forehead against the glass hard enough to see stars. The pod tumbled downward through the water column, spinning wildly, pressure building until her new gills screamed in protest.
She tasted blood—her own.
The capsule groaned, metal and composite shrieking as seams strained. For one terrible second she thought it would implode.
Then the ejection system triggered.
A sharp hiss. The front panel blew outward with explosive force, ejecting her into open water like a shell from a cannon.
Greta shot out into the turquoise depths, limbs flailing. Cold seawater rushed over her pink-toned skin, through her gills. For a split second pure instinct took over—her webbed fingers and toes spread, legs kicking with surprising power. She righted herself, lungs—no, gills—working automatically.
She was breathing under water. Again.
She could move. The transformation had done its job with ruthless efficiency.
But for what purpose? she wondered.
Behind her, the empty pod continued its slow, graceful descent. Stripped of its passenger, it drifted downward through the blue, trailing a few last bubbles.
Greta watched it sink, growing smaller and smaller until it disappeared into the deepening gloom like a forgotten coffin. No rescue beacon. No return ticket. Just gone.
She was alone.
For about three heartbeats.
Then the other pods hit the surface above her. Five heavy impacts sent shockwaves rolling through the ocean.
Greta twisted in the water, webbed feet propelling her instinctively away from the descending capsules. Through the filtered turquoise light she saw them crack open one by one, releasing their blue occupants.
The blue occupants…
The five males erupted into the open sea like sharks scenting blood.
They were faster than she was. Sleeker. Built for this world. Their powerful legs drove them forward with terrifying efficiency—cut through the water with minimal effort. Gills flared. Markings pulsed bright with excitement. Their eyes locked onto her pink form like beacons.
The hunt had begun.
Adrenaline slammed into her system like a freight train. Her heart jackhammered against her ribs, gills flaring wide as fresh oxygen flooded her bloodstream.
Every nerve lit up, sharpening her vision, tightening her muscles, turning fear into raw, electric fuel. Her webbed hands and feet tingled with sudden power she didn’t yet know how to control.
Greta spun and swam for her life.
She had no plan, no map, no idea where safety even existed on this drowned realm.
She only knew she had to move. Her scientist’s brain catalogued frantically: buoyancy neutral, limbs stronger than expected, vision surprisingly clear underwater.
But control? None. Every kick sent her veering, every stroke felt alien.
Behind her, the males closed in.
She darted toward the nearest coral atoll, a riot of color and jagged edges. Maybe she could lose them in the structure. Maybe?—
A massive blue shape slammed past her, clipping her shoulder hard enough to send her tumbling. Another rival cut in front, jaws snapping inches from her face. They were already fighting each other—clawing, ramming, trying to clear a path to her.
Blood began to cloud the water.
Greta kicked harder, heart pounding against her ribs even as her gills worked smoothly. She could feel something inside, a faint glowing pattern of veins along her arms and chest… ticking? She shoved it from her mind and focused on the only thing that mattered right now:
Escape.
She had to survive.
She had to find somewhere?—
A third male surged up from below, massive hand closing around her ankle.
And the chase turned vicious.