Space shattered and knotted around her. Compartments and passageways tangled like intestines. The datura smoke was a thick ground fog now, and things like centipedes rose from it to taste her ankles. Silhouetted fighters screamed at each other in fury. She was not afraid. This was battle: seven parts trying to find out where to go and what to do, two parts shouting, and one part horrific, irrevocable violence.
