I stared at the Harvester corpses scattered across our makeshift battlefield. Blue ichor slowly seeped into the glittering sand, creating puddles that looked like tiny, toxic lagoons in the moonlight.
"We need to move," I said, turning to face the rest of our battered group. "These giant crab bastards might have friends, and I'm not in the mood for a family reunion."
Juan was already scanning our surroundings, his datapad out despite his dislocated shoulder. "Sand's unstable everywhere," he muttered, eyes never leaving the screen. "Those Harvester things have tunneled underneath this entire area."
"How far?" I asked.
He shrugged, then winced at the pain. "Can't tell. The readings keep shifting. It's like... the sand itself is alive."
"Great. Monster crabs below, murder plants above, and a psycho gardener somewhere in between. This vacation keeps getting better." I turned to Monica, who was still communing with one of the silver trees. "Any insights from our wooden friends?"
