Nightmare journey

rose, tottered backward, came down on all its legs, shuttled hastily to the left and settled into a defensive posture, its six legs bunched beneath it, nothing open to injury but its nearly impregnable green and black shell.
    This reaction made Jask wonder if the beast might not be, to some degree, sentient, capable of communication on a human level. In this strange world, there was no telling what form a human consciousness might take. But when he delved into its mind, he was confronted with vicious, inhuman images of blood, spilled ichor, entrails, excretion and death. He withdrew, shaken, certain that there was no gram of intelligence in the monster.
    He opened fire on it again.
    Light lanced out, danced on its shell.
    It closed its eyes again and watched him with eyes, shielded with thick gray lids.
    When he stopped firing, it opened its eyes again and watched him with an obvious hunger.
    He crossed the front of the subterranean church once more, walking away from the crab, stepped over the altar rail and started to move along the side aisle, one eye on the stairwell to the surface, one on the crab.
    The beast suddenly rose on its spindly legs and rushed at him, over the pews, only slightly delayed by these obstacles.
    He opened fire.
    The crab scuttled sideways, fell, drew in on itself, lying across the pews, watching and waiting.
    He started walking again.
    It came up and was after him, fast.
    As it leaped at him, he fell and waddled forward between two rows of pews, under it and into the central aisle of the church. When he looked up, he found it had scurried to the rear of the room again and was waiting for him directly in front of the entrance to the stairs.
    He aimed, fired, snapped off one of the beast's antennae.
    It did not seem to mind.
    He retreated up the central aisle, remembering how fast it had been able to cover that same territory earlier. When he stepped over the altar railing and was again beneath the cross, the thing scuttled forward, closing the space between them by half before it settled down under the protection of its shell once more.
    Jask had not thought to pray to Lady Nature for Her aid, but now it seemed the only course left open to him. He was tainted, of course, an esper that should never have the nerve to call on Her, but he reasoned that he was less distant from Her original creatures than was this monstrous crab, clearly a child of the Ruiner. So he prayed.
    When a light flashed like a preview of Judgment and the enormous crab leaped, Jask cried out in sheer joy, for he was certain that Lady Nature had answered his unworthy prayers. This spiritual excitement lasted only a brief moment, however, for he saw Tedesco standing at the rear of the church, in the mouth of the stairwell; the bruin had fired upon the beast from behind, startling it. Now that it was confused, facing enemies in two directions, it was extremely vulnerable. Jask lowered his power rifle, took aim, fired.
    Tedesco fired at the same time.
    The crab issued a throaty roar and wheeled sideways, leaping onto the pews and rushing toward the side of the church.
    Tedesco stepped fully into the room.
    The crab scuttled toward the doors through which it had originally forced its way, its single antenna bobbling, stopped when Tedesco caught it with a full charge across its beak. It reared back, slipped, fell, rose up, ran into a second buzzing wave of light, wheeled about.
    Jask stepped forward. When the beast ran for the front of the church, he shot it in the belly and flipped it over despite its size.
    It lay on its shell, all of its legs kicking furiously, making noises like a thousand fist-sized stones rolling down a graveled incline.
    When Jask reached the rear of the great room, the bruin said, “I was tired of waiting for you.”
    “I was unexpectedly delayed.”
    “You overstayed your ten-minute rest period,” Tedesco said.
    “I'm sorry.”
    “Ready now?”
    “I guess so,” Jask said.
    The crab kicked and croaked for help.
    Perhaps it had a goddess of its own, a divine being to whom it could cry for consolation, a perverted Lady Nature of tainted monsters it could plead to for deliverance from suffering.
    In a way Jask hoped this was so.
    “One thing,” he said to the bruin.
    Tedesco turned away from the steps, oblivious of the uproar caused by the wounded beast. He said, “Yes?”
    Jask nodded toward the towering cross at the front of the church and said, “This Jesus…”
    “What of him?”
    “They had reason to