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Inside the cabin where Team Buddha had holed up, Bonnie knew none of the things that were causing Oskar Delvaux to tear out his hair in a madman's fit of rage. Bonnie only knew that it was fucking hot and that she was pretty sure her ass was burning. It was one hundred and twenty-five degrees inside the crew quarters and very wet since the fire suppression systems had kicked in. She was nearly deaf from the groaning of Lady Chatterley's bulkheads, and the hammering and reverberations of four thousand tungsten cored rounds hitting the hull had driven her insane for six seconds in which she was sure her ears bled brains that ran down her neck. The hull had shaken and twisted and she was sure for thirty seconds, as the deck below her tilted one way and then another, that they were about to sink. Now, to her amazement she found she could still hear well enough to make out a new noise. It was faint, but it sounded like a distant alarm, a siren warning of Very Bad Things about to happen. She had a pretty good idea what it was.

Casper heard it, too. He wondered if they had a special siren inside the Ziggurat that they used to warn everyone of a Giant Fucking Ship About to Ram the Building. He never got a chance to ask Bonnie about it because Bonnie, Casper, everyone, and everything in the tiny cabin was suddenly airborne, flying forward into the steel bulkhead.

Impact.