The Gorynych, Vindalex Asteroid Field, Lysades Subsector

Danger.

Entwined in her bondmate's arms, Princess Saarania twitched. "Dark forces assail us, mate-of-mine." Ulthyr groaned. "Rise!"

"Must they do so at such an inconvenient hour?"

"Then let us transmit a complaint." Saarania pried Ulthyr's arms from her waist. "Get up, Uly, the Gorynych calls to me."

"Then pay her my compliments and let her know breakfast-time remains unchanged." Ulthyr dragged the thin sheets over to his side. His hand patted the warm space Saarania had left. "I cannot feel your flesh, my love."

Saarania flung a robe over her bare shoulders. "The time for tenderness has long since been lost between the sheets, Uly." Saarania tied the belt of her robe around her waist and shook Ulthyr's foot. "As ever, it takes an age to spur you in to action. With haste, mate-of-mine."

"A pestilence upon those that dare disturb the Void Dragons' slumber." Ulthyr rubbed the back of his neck and yawned. "A thirst rages…"

"Then quench it, but do so with purpose." Saarania swept through the solar, scattering cushions from the ring-shaped couch dominating the central chamber before her. "Guard! What news from the bridge?"

The sentinels standing guard before the solar's portal both turned and bowed. "Not a word carries from the bridge to our ears, your eminence."

"Let us see…" Saarania stalked the Gorynych's corridors, paying no heed to the patrolling sentinels, each of whom parted before Saarania and froze in place, wary of their commander's wrath.

"Corsair, who has the bridge?" Saarania paused beside a lone sentinel two decks below the bridge. "Speak candidly, my patience treads a thin line."

"Naught disturbs this cycle, your eminence." The sentinel bowed. "There are words spoken by many aboard about the Druchii. There remains a presence aboard the Gorynych. A shadow left behind by its past masters. I apologise if your slumber was disturbed."

"Give answer or restrain tongue behind teeth, sycophant," Saarania snapped. "Who. Has. The. Bridge?"

"Why Dragut and his brother Vliss—"

Saarania was around the corner and hauling the skirts of her robe up the stairs behind her before the sentinel had finished. "Stand, stand!" she cried, upon entering the bridge. The token crew spun around to face her. Bullish Dragut, the elder, planted a hand upon Vliss's snow-hair and wrenched him about to face Saarania. Both stood before the Gorynych's centre control sphere; their minds sharing the connection. The frantic pitter-patter of Ulthyr's feet behind Saarania echoed throughout the bridge. "A Druchii plague upon those that disturb the princess' slumber," he exclaimed.

"Your eminence." Vliss drew Dragut down in to a bow alongside him. "Human vessels skirt the asteroid belt. Our fighters spread their wings—"

"Recall." Saarania locked eyes with Vliss. "Both of you are relieved."

"Recall, recall!" Ulthyr flew to the communication sphere on the bridge's port. "Why launch without your commander's say? What ails your mind, corsairs?"

"Stand the Nightwings down before they launch." Saarania extended an arm between Dragut and Vliss then pushed the two apart as if drawing a curtain.

"They already have."

"Detention," Saarania whispered, her eyes passing through the siblings to fix on the pinpricks of light that were the departing fighters. "See yourselves there. Words will not help you." Louder, she addressed the bridge crew. "Battle stations. Show me the humans."

"To action. Attend your stations!" Ulthyr clapped his hands. "Reveal to us the humans." He snapped his fingers at Navigation on the opposite side of the bridge. "Their number and disposition."

"Route to me." Saarania split the bubble around the Gorynych's control sphere, easing her mind amongst the tendrils linking to the ship's propulsion, barriers, and forward-facing batteries. "Spread warmth amongst batteries with their arc of fire covering port-bow through to starboard bow. Do it." A view, magnified several-hundred times over, of the edge of the field flickered before Saarania's eyes. "Forty-eight merchant vessels, double column with outflung escorts," a corsair said.

"Rich pickings." Ulthyr left Communications and came to Saarania. His mind touched hers, initiating a private discourse. Let us engage. It will keep the crew sharp.

Port Maw, Uly. Saarania shook her head.

Many months away. Ulthyr touched Saarania's outstretched wrist. Tis many cycles since last we did battle. Let us not look for a fight with the humans. We encroached their territory. They are the masters here.

"Your eminence, our Nightwings return. Their presence goes unnoticed."

"Take the crews off standby, Corsair." Ulthyr stepped back from Saarania.

Uly! Saarania's heart jumped. Decision lies with me, not you alone.

"Sever mind from the Gorynych, your eminence." Ulthyr bowed his head. Both hands were hidden behind his back. "Step away from the helm please."

"Uly, please let it not have come to this…" Saarania closed her eyes. "We are one."

A click of a lasblaster's safety lock broke the mind-bond between Saarania and the ship. "Let there be no violence please." Ulthyr's hands, filled with the slender wraithbone grip of the lasblaster, clasped in front of him. "Commander-in-chief passes to the prince, in event the princess' decrees are no longer in Void Dragon interests but pose a threat to our family."

Saarania relinquished her hold on the ship and took a step backwards in to the centre. All hands were now facing her, holdout weapons raised. "Magnificent," she muttered with a sad smile. "Do all now take arms against me? Do you, Corsair?" She nodded at a corsair liaising with the engine-singers.

"Tell us, do you recall a single name of this company? I do." Ulthyr, now out of arm's reach, began pacing in a circle around Saarania. "But names are of little relevance to your current standing."

"Would an answer to my question kill?"

"Why give reason when you already know?"

"Ulthyr, give not in to pettiness!"

"Attacking warships belonging to the Craftworld Ulthwé is an act of piracy. It also constitutes an act of war. Though the Eye has always held us in contempt, they were never out for our blood. The frigates that fell under our guns shall place such a sour taste in the craftworlders' mouths whenever the name Void Dragon is uttered, we will be forever seen as enemies of Ulthwé and treated, not as combatants, but thieves without honour."

"We are thieves! It runs in our blood. Outcasts living on the edges of civilisation. To rise above our standing invites only persecution. Do not forget what we are."

"Thieves we are, but we are also kidnappers. This fixation you bear on siring offspring stains our name. The Ranger's children, her property, will never be a part of our family. You cannot rip younglings from their mother's arms and call them your own. Declaring war upon Ulthwé was folly. Armed excursion upon the guns of Port Maw… lunacy."

"Come, let us discuss this difference of opinion in our quarters." Saarania offered Ulthyr her elbow. "Come, my prince, there need not be violence."

"Nor do I intend to keep you here." Ulthyr backed away. "The Rhazus is yours. The Ranger's children are yours. A bodyguard of no more than half a dozen may accompany you." Ulthyr passed his lasblaster back to a colleague then offered Saarania his elbow. "Let us discuss nothing."

"Your pardon." Saarania put her hand through the crook of Ulthyr's arm and let him walk her from the bridge. Four of the conspirators followed. "I never believed such a scenario would play out. It seems the very ship has turned against me, all without so much as a shot being fired."

"Such is the way of all things. A passive nature on my behalf would have ensured our fleet's destruction."

"Our fleet…"

"I beg thee, attempting a rallying cry is a lost cause." Ulthyr sighed. "Go in peace. Let nothing sour your departure."

Rhazus' pair of twin-engines hummed, each glowing a cool blue inside their exhaust nozzles. The rear ramp sat upon the deck. Of course. Dragut and Vliss stood waiting. Am I fated to mirror the Ranger? Saarania frowned, stopped before the ramp, and turned to Ulthyr. "A moment."

Ulthyr nodded at the conspirators, who retreated. "Vliss, Dragut, see yourselves aboard. The princess will join you shortly."

"My prince." Vliss bowed. "Brother?"

Saarania's hands travelled up Ulthyr's arms and came to rest on his shoulders. "The children?"

Ulthyr's face darkened and he looked down at his feet. "Aboard. If you wish to set right your wrong, see the younglings to their mother. End her torture. Make your peace with the Ranger and perhaps, through her, Ulthwé."

"I cannot bend my knee to the half-case round-ear, Uly—"

"Swallow pride and offer apology. Tis a great show of inner strength that you might dispense with arrogance and humble oneself to her." Ulthyr gripped Saarania's upper arms. "You must!"

"A princess does not – cannot beg."

"You have no cause to bear that title where you go. Cast the princess' shroud loose, and become your own being."

"Without you, I…"

"You never needed me."

"I love you."

Ulthyr picked Saarania's hands from his shoulders. "The first and the last. Not on the day we took hands in bondage, nor in the years that followed. Never once between the sheets did those words whisper in to these ears. That time has passed, though weep not for me."

"Tears will not be shed. I bear nought but the wounds you inflict with your tongue." Saarania blinked at Ulthyr. "I wish…"

"Set right your wrongs." Ulthyr's thumb brushed Saarania's chin. "Know that love must be not be unrequited, but reciprocated wholly. Those younglings do not belong with you." Saarania spread her fingers and worked them through Ulthyr's. "Learn to let go."

Clear of the Gorynych, Rhazus, guided by Vliss's hand, weaved through the planetoid-sized chunks of rock. Tiny fragments pattered against the fighter's barriers. "Your eminence, what is our course?"

Sitting with her legs drawn under her and her arms crossing her chest, Saarania gently rocked upon her seat. With nought but the clothes on my back, I reach the crossroads. Saarania rested her head in her hand and watched the rippling of the ship's barriers. "Your eminence?"

"Grendel please, Vliss."

Grendel

Coarse, creaking rope ground red welts in to my wrists. Where the…? My sore, gummed-up eyelids parted. Tears fell as tiny bits of dust found their way in to my eyes. Art, where's Art? I lifted my head up from my chest. A crick in my neck brought my teeth together. Breathing through them, I tilted my head upwards. My arms made an arch above my head, wrists bound to one another. A rusted hook bolted to the ceiling took the strain. A meathook?

Long, fat grey sacks hung around me, their tapered ends hanging two feet off the stone tiles. "Art?" I croaked. Where are you? Don't leave me here. Don't leave me. Art's bloody, tattered body fell from my arms in to darkness to lie at the wayside, joining Davir, Skargo, and Bulaven. A whimper escaped my lips. Suspended by numb arms, my body trembled. My toes curled inside my boots, scraping along the bristly insoles. I twisted my hips, my legs kicking at the surrounding sacks. Come on! The rubber soles found nothing but thin air. I began to swing back and forth, my cheeks ballooning. Forwards, backwards, each swing adding momentum. Art, I'm sorry. Above me, the meathook squeaked on its hinge. Why'd it have to be you? Why leave me alone with her?

Her, the woman in red. God, she's got a swing on her. I rubbed the swollen lump on the side of my head against my arm. Where is she? My head spun in circles when I managed to grasp the closest sack with my feet and ride the sack up to its hook. Jiggling my hands, I tugged them from the hook and gripped the hinge above it. My feet parted with the sack, swinging down to dangle as they had before. "…Shit." My hands gave out. The floor rushed up to meet my feet, buckling my knees. My shoulder cracked against the stone. "Oh…" Arms and legs, pieces of meat, flopped. I sunk my teeth in to the rope, growling at the flare-up in my shoulder. I dug deeper, grinding against the taught fibres with my teeth. Spittle dribbled from the corners of my mouth, wetting the rope. C'mon, you bastard, that woman's out there. Not giving an inch, the rope remained steadfastly binding my wrists together. What's that? A hum resonated through the walls of the locker. Is that a generator? I planted a boot upon the stone and put weight upon it. Eurgh, is that sand in the sacks? I patted the small of my back. My shirt-tails hung loose and the weight of the pistol was absent. All that remained was a folded piece of paper in my back pocket. That bloody picture. Why did I bring that? I got to one knee and wobbled upright. My shoulders brushed the bulging sacks, each one I passed swaying gently. That's sand alright. Dizzy with my head drooping, I massaged my temple with the back of my hand. Where is she?

The push-bar gave way under my shove. Warmer air filtered in from the crack I pressed my eye against. Nowhere else to go but on. I put my shoulder against the door and stepped out. "Shit it." My boot came down awkwardly on a short ferrocrete slope, scraping loudly. Picking myself up, I pushed the door to. Naked bulbs dotted a stone passageway, the walls of which stank of damp. Two full-grown adults could scarcely walk abreast, and there was only one way out. She's coming back. Get out now! I swatted aside the cloaked and hooded spectre and leant against the passage wall, my jaw tightening at the banging inside my head.

You godless bastard, come back here. The woman's face hung inches from my wavering muzzle. Kill me.

Why? Why me kill her? I staggered along the passage, covering my eyes at each light I passed. A high-pitched ringing filled my right ear. My fingers hooked around the bars of a door at the end of the passage. Oh no… I shook the bars. There wasn't a keyhole in sight. It took me far too long to find the latch, letting me out in to a square chamber with a staircase leading up in to darkness. Teeth gritted, I tiptoed across puddles of water to the foot of the stairs. Where is she?

Water dripped from the ceiling. Thin chains clinked against one another. Each circuit the staircase made took me higher and further from the dank floor. No side-passages or doors offered themselves. The climb persisted. What if? What if? What if? I clutched the air within my lungs, not daring to let it out with too much gusto. Can xenos see in the dark? Greenskins can. But what about Stickies? A brief image of a pair of glowing eyes gliding towards me down the stairs brought my boots to a standstill. Do you want to go back down there and wait for this madwoman to leap you from the darkness? Step by step, I carried on, hands clenched in front of me. A hall filled with nothing but the sacks led away from the staircase. Steel grating replaced stone underfoot. The first sack I passed I brushed with my fingertips, the crisp plastic flexing. Sand? A thin trickle fell through the gaps in the floor. Catching a palmful, I held it under my nose. Brown sugar?

My elbows brushed the sacks. Each footfall flexed the floor. Where now? No landmarks gave me a point of orientation. The opening behind me was swallowed up not five paces in to the hall, sealing me in the sea of bags. Is it really brown sugar?

A scratch of metal-on-metal froze me mid-step. What's that? I closed my eyes and listened to what sounded like a slow grind of something dragging a blade across the ground. I tucked my elbows in and glanced over both shoulders. The slow grind drew closer. No, no, don't come this way. I clenched my buttocks, accidentally letting a fart out. Wait, where did it go? A long, pronounced sniff seeped through the sacks behind me. The wool of my shirt clung to my back. All along my neck, my hair bristled. Thudthudthudthudthud.

A ragged axehead burst through the sack beside my head. Sugar poured from the rift, roaring over my right shoulder and falling inside my collar. Under the shower of sugar, I fell to my knees, the axe swishing over my head to embed in an adjacent sack. I thrust my hands out and bellied forwards, regaining my feet and burrowing in to the endless field of hanging bags. My shoulders smacked at the obstacles, my bootsoles rapping on the ground, leaving a trail of noise behind me. A surface met my outflung hands, cracking my knuckles. "Oh fuck." I skittered to the side, following a wall along. Gaining on me, the axehead screeched along the floor. A body thumped against the sacks.

Stairs! I pawed at a ferrocrete ledge swept with dust. A handrail led down to the right, just out of my reach. Up the stairs underneath an open doorway, a red lamp blinked. A sack exploded at my shoulder, the axe slicing through the plastic. Doused in sugar, I fell against the bottom step, my hand flying out against the wall, riding it raw up the brick. Above my head, the axe crashed in to the wall. Cement and brick fragments filling my hair, I scooted towards the red light, a grinding screech following. In the glare of the light, a muzzle rushed at me from the mouth of a wide sleeve. Behind it, a pair of gold eyes glared at me from beneath a red hood. You?

The weapon spoke, the round slicing through the air, filling my left ear with a high-pitched ringing. My knees cracked against the edge of the step, the craggy stone connecting with my shoulder. Brown leather boots, poking out from beneath AdMech robes, stepped over my legs. I jumped as a second and a third gunshot, faraway, punched at my heart. Head lolling, I pressed my ear against my shoulder. A hand grabbed the back of my collar and lifted me up far enough for my feet to dangle in the air. Through streaming eyes, I squinted at the red-robed stickie's waist. I hung for a second before the woman dumped me back down, where my legs promptly collapsed underneath me. The woman tore at my collar, picking me up again, turning me round, and propelling me on.

Bells rang inside my head. The grip on my collar tightened. A hard shove, and I was against a wall. The woman dragged the tails of my shirt up to almost my neck and patted the small of my back then worked underneath my armpits and inside my thighs. I cringed at the grope behind my testicles and thrust a shoulder backwards. Stop! The woman slapped me across the cheek and brought me around to face her. Her boot swiped my feet out from under me, laying me out on the floor of a tiny chamber split in half by a partition. On my side, I tilted my head away from the point of a bone-handled knife worming its way from the woman's sleeve. Circling, the blade flew towards my face. Blood coloured my cheeks. A muscle throbbed in my temple. The very tip of the blade pricked my cheek, adding to the cuts and scrapes there before tracing a line to my eye. A silent moan escaped me. Further and further back my neck stretched. The woman's fingers dug in to the top of my head. Spots swam in front of me. The knife-point inched closer to my eye.

At Derin's heel, Saeros skipped down the stairs, the shoulders of his robes dragging across the dingy walls. "My lady, desist!" Derin shouted. Desist with what? Saeros jumped the last three steps in to the cellar and swung around a partition after the Felarch. I know that face. Saeros stared at a human lying at the Ranger's feet. The Ranger herself was nose-to-nose with the Felarch. "You break protocol. Our mission is the weapons, not the pursuit of petty vendettas!"

"This human was witness to us—"

"His memory, cleansed it was."

"Cleansed?" Izuru shoved a folded piece of paper against Derin's chest. "Does this suggest a cleanse?"

"Impossible…" Derin shook his head and thrust a pencil sketching at Saeros. "What make you of this?"

Saeros mouth fell open. "It… it captures her quite favourably."

"How does this human remember our encounter on the day passed, fool?" Izuru reversed her hand to strike Saeros.

"No!" Derin seized Izuru's wrist. "No more abuse! Tragic so it is, your children's fate, it does not grant you free reign to torment all that cross your path."

"Please." Saeros stepped between the two. "Let conflict not divide us, I beg thee. Such enmity towards this child is nought but energy spent—"

"No, no!" Izuru wrestled free of Derin's grasp and took Saeros's shoulder, shaking it. "Look at him, look at him! Those boots. The shirt. That is a soldier, Saeros. That is a soldier who will tear your soul from existence as soon as set eyes upon you. Do you understand me?"

"I understand you." Poor human. "But this…" Saeros held up the drawing.

Izuru's lips drew back from her teeth and dashed the picture on the floor. "Godless bastard! Felarch, I would have private discourse. Saeros, watch the whelp."

Derin gave Saeros a look before following Izuru around the partition. Saeros listened to their retreating footsteps and let his shoulders sag. Why, my lady? Why drag this human in to our company? Why not just leave him alone. The fault was mine not yours. My hesitancy granted him prolonged life.

The human lay in a loose foetal position. The tails of his woollen shirt hung loose over his civilian trousers. A deserter? Saeros squatted beside the human. His boots and shirt are Guard-issue. Scrapes and grazes covered the human's hands. His matted hair bore dirt and looked sticky with blood. She didn't, did she? Saeros shrugged off his cloak and folded it over the human's shoulders. Unwarranted. Utterly unwarranted. How dare she inflict such hurt upon him.

"What is your name?" Saeros dug out a hydration pill and placed it in his palm. "Here." The human's head sagged. A scratched, filthy face shied away from the offered pill. How can one so young wear the uniform? I might ask myself the same question. Saeros bit upon the pill and swallowed, smiling. "Good." The human's eyes remained fixed upon the floor. Saeros frowned. Leaning forwards, he snapped his fingers beside the human's left ear. Not a sign. Has hearing deserted him?

"Forgive me, I seek only your name." Saeros found the cord holding the soldier's identity disks and drew it over his head. Larn, Arvin J. Blood Type O+. 81576820.

"Hello, Arvin J." Saeros wrapped the cords around the disks and tied the ends off. "I am Saeros."

Derin's feet clattered down the stairs. "The human remains in our company for now. Bring him."

"Please don't let her hurt him anymore." Saeros helped Larn up, taking an arm over his shoulders.

"As it happened, the Lady Numerial saved his life. And no, those wounds were from a bomb blast. Idiot paramilitaries mishandling explosives. Keep him close now, Saeros, he is your responsibility."

On the stairs, Larn mumbled. "Ssh now, human. Speak not in the others' presence. They would see you dead in a heartbeat." But why keep him alive if the Ranger would like nothing more than to end him? And how did she save his life by abducting him? Saeros reached ground level, half-dragging, half-carrying Larn through a storage facility gutted by fire and filled with tangled, twisted remains of foldout chairs and tables. What use has the Ranger and the Felarch with him?

"Why did you not take the shot when you had the chance?" Saeros placed the folded paper in Larn's hand. "And why go to the trouble of a likeness of this intensity?"

Through smoke-stained corridors Saeros led Larn, until, up a flight of wide stone steps divided by a handrail, the pair entered a huge oval-shaped arena. What had been a field for a human sport, played upon a grassy pitch, was now nothing more than a muddy bog filled with puddles and thin patches of yellowy grass. "We are just across here, Larn. Remarkable what the passage of time does to a construct. Look at how nature reclaims this land. Is this part of the city truly this neglected, I wonder?" Larn remained silent. Both Saeros and the human's feet felt the chill touch of the muddy rainwater. The hem of Saeros's robes became soaked. "Planet or starship-born?" Saeros vaulted over a broken fence ringing the field and turned back to offer Larn his hands. "Family or orphan?" Larn's eyes remained fixed on the floor as he reached out to Saeros. "I'm an orphan. The corsairs are my family. Maybe you had a family and maybe they loved you?" Saeros steadied Larn by the shoulders. The human lifted his legs over the fence and brought both boots down. "How has it come to that, an Eldar envious of a human?"

Above the tiered seating, wind gushed through gaps in tarpaulin nailed in place of where the arena's walls had been. Little but the skeletal supports remained. Ferrocrete pillars, many of which had been slowly eaten away, exposing rusted fingers of rebar. "Through here." Saeros unhooked a corner of a tarpaulin from a nail sticking out of the foot of a ferrocrete pillar and lifted it up. "Through here, human."

Skirting the sea of mud, Izuru led Derin along a row of seats and up to the sanctuary. "Blood of the human?" Derin hooked the tarpaulin back in place after he and Izuru had slipped through. Izuru lowered her hood and tossed her folded robe on to a seat next to the weapons' containers. "Another." Izuru worked the cord holding her bun loose. "Addled by narcotics, his mind sought only the eradication of the whelp by fervent application of an axehead." Izuru shook her hair loose, gathered it back in to a bun, and retied the cord. "Fields of substance populate the city's underbelly. I rather fancy drugs are what the imperium seeks here."

"And essence of propellant. Is that what I smelt upon you?" Derin picked up an ocular eyepiece and wiped the lense clear. "One wonders whether you truly wish this human dead, the manner in which you persist in toying with him." Derin placed the ocular against a hole in the outward-facing tarpaulin and leant in to it. "A plaything…"

"Slaves are for the Druchii." Izuru drew the human's stub pistol from the oversized holster on her hip intended for a lasblaster. Finished in a two-tone black on the lower and grey on the upper receiver, the pistol boasted a short rail underneath the body and night sights. Izuru slipped out the magazine, cleared the chamber, caught the round, and slotted it back inside the mag; operating the decocker before setting the weapon aside. "There lies a position in life for everyone. Each of us have our own uses. His is to play the victim. What do you observe?"

"Seen as much as heard. Gunfire and grunge reign in this city." Derin lowered the ocular. "Lady Ranger, let us not dally about the crux of the matter." Derin set the ocular beside the missile container. A frown dashed across his face. "Format a decision please. Terminate this human's life or find purpose for him. I will not have him dragging at our skirts." He glanced sidelong at Izuru. "There is nought to gain through unnecessary torture…"

"Please." Izuru spat. She slipped a pill in to her mouth and swallowed it with water from a bladder. "Tis not the suffering of the human I seek. You can all play at being pawns. I see beyond that."

"A broad mind I approve of but keep head from the clouds. Involvement with the humans, as is outlined in mission protocol, is kept to a minimum. That soldier knows too much. And he's seen your face."

Izuru picked up a Long Rifle and took it and a blanket with her to a corner. "No man or woman alive would believe the word of a lowly Guardsman. His tongue can run as long as he draws breath. No one will believe him." Upon a blanket, Izuru laid her rifle and set next to it cleaning implements.

"And that drawing?" Derin unscrewed a tube of food paste and sucked in the grey slop. "Quite the artisan…"

"He missed the ears – keep the waste with you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Any waste, we bring out with us. The ears remained unchanged."

"Your ears?"

"What does it imply?"

"His lips were sealed."

"…Good."

"Sentiment."

"Peculiar, considering the debacle of Platis."

"Well, perhaps information might be wrought…" Derin's head jerked in the direction of the corner panel. "If you would excuse me, madam, nature calls."

"Bag it and bring it with you." Izuru scowled. "At least blindfold the whelp before leading him up here, Saeros!"

"Well… rather too late now." Derin pulled the human in by his wrists. "I did not think to bring one, truth be told. Have him face the wall, Saeros. I am stepping out for a moment."

"There. Down there. Face that way, human." Saeros manoeuvred the human in to a sitting position with his nose against the wall.

Izuru bristled. "Know that their ignorance prevents their understanding of the beauty of our tongue, and address him without familiarity or let your fists and boots convey words."

"And give the Void Dragons a bad name?" Saeros dangled a pair of identity tags, one red and circular, the other dark green and hexagonal, before Izuru. "His name is—"

"Names are for beings. That one does not have a name."

Saeros, his lips clamped together, took the tags back. "Will you allow me to untie his hands?"

Izuru left her rifle's charge cell half screwed in and looked up at Saeros. "You can untie the human's hands then bind them behind his back."

"Yes, my lady."

Not a wholly unreasonable order. Why Saeros had to lead him here without blindfold though…

"Apologies." Saeros worked the binds with wraithbone. The human gasped as Saeros pulled his arms behind his back and bound his wrists. "Please, I do not wish to gag you."

"You do not apologise!" Izuru stamped over and yanked the human's hands backwards, dragging him aloft. The human screamed.

"Restrain tongue behind teeth, whelp. This will go on hurting." Izuru span the human around and hooked the rope over a sharply angled piece of rebar poking out of a pillar.

"Fuck you." Spittle sprayed the ground.

"Really? All the words you can muster are fuck you?"

"Let him down, my lady."

"Let the Serpent consume your soul, Pirate!"

"Let him down." A click brought Izuru's head round. Saeros stood over Izuru's Long Rifle, a lasblaster held in both hands at his waist. "I mean it." Saeros raised his lasblaster. The muzzle wavered. "This wanton cruelty is… is Druchii. You call yourself Ranger of Alaitoc yet I see you brutalise a human as if he was mortal enemy to you!"

"I would not cross your thumbs when handling that weapon, young one." Izuru took a pace towards Saeros. "Maintain a high grip, always check your weapon is loaded, and retain trigger discipline until you are absolutely certain that you wish to fire."

"I won't let you… can't let you." Saeros's jaw quivered. "Gods, just let the human go."

"Gods, whose gods? In whose name do you act, Saeros?" Izuru spread her hands, her voice softening. "We do not share deities. Down here, you are all alone with me."

"My own." Saeros glanced at the weapons on the table beside him. "I want. You. To stop."

"Call to your companion, your fellow corsair. He is your brother. He will protect you from me, won't he?" Izuru's fingers twitched. "Let there be three graves filled tonight."

"No." Saeros's forefinger began squeezing the firing stud. "…No."

Blue light flashed. Izuru tottered a pace, leant sideways then collapsed on her side.

"Let none be dug in your name." Derin, his head and one arm thrust through the opening, lowered his pistol and pulled himself in. "Raise your weapon, Corsair. The threat passes."

"Is she dead?" Saeros's lasblaster fell to his side.

"I would have thought you old enough now to tell the difference between stun and lethal, Saeros." Derin pocketed his stun gun and knelt by Izuru. "I take it the human is responsible for this little episode?"

"I couldn't let her torment him any longer, Felarch. Words were spent in vain." Saeros tossed his lasblaster upon the table. "Was I wrong to take arms against her?"

Derin pried a knife from Izuru's boot and patted the empty holster on her hip. "When next you draw your weapon, be sure you intend to use it first, or what good is it? She knew you would not shoot and would have punished you cruelly for it." Derin dragged Izuru over to the human and laid her out close by. "I know you can understand one another quite well. Maybe this time it will be words passing between you as opposed to attempts on one another's lives." Derin made a loose knot around the human's ankles then tied the rope to Izuru's left ankle. "I apologise for my companion's conduct, she does let her heart run away with her at times." The human kept gloomy eyes on his own feet. "Fear not of a lynching. We may let your own race do that for you after you have served your purpose. Come, Saeros, we gather knowledge."

Saeros waited for Derin to slip underneath the tarpaulin before turning to the human. "Psst!" The human, taking a glance at Saeros's feet, raised his gaze to Saeros's hands. Saeros placed his wrists together and mimed a sawing action. Run!

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. I pressed my cheek against my left shoulder and tilted my head back. The few inches of rebar, bent upwards in an L-shape, kept me in place. I raised myself up on tiptoes and lifted my shoulders. No, too high. I'll dislocate my shoulders even trying. Well within arm's reach, the stickie woman lay with her feet close to mine. Is she dead? Several of the stickies' knives, along with other weapons, xenos and human, sat around two containers on a table opposite me, both in weathered OG. A long rifle, bone-coloured and adorned with gemstones, lay upon a blanket in the far corner. What is this, an OP? I slipped the rope back and forth, grinding the fibres against the rusted iron. Air escaped my nostrils. Am I still in Norn even?

Strand by strand, piece by piece the binds gave. Come on, come on! The final stubborn hairs parted, returning me my hands. "Oh, God…" I clutched at my wrists. Red welts glared up at me. Where did those other two go? I set my eyes upon the equipment and loped forward. "Shit." My ankle tugged at the woman's own foot. Knife. I picked out the peculiar knife the woman had held. The handle was poking out of a small satchel next to the containers. Bending down, I dug in to the tangled knots holding my left boot on and pulled the laces loose. "…No." The rope held fast around my ankle, even with the boot off. If I can only… I walked along the floor on my hands until the rope taughtened. "Come on…" My fingertips scrabbled at the table edge. Throne, she's not giving an inch.

The rope bucked. Ah! I grasped the edge. That's more like it. A violent tug from behind swept my legs and torso off the ground. Hauled backwards, I dug my fingers in to the table until it leant over on two legs, the contents sliding at me. "…Shit." I let go. Containers and weaponry crashed down behind me, spilling across the floor. Twisting around on to my back, I slapped at the woman's face as she leapt atop me, shoving her face away. The woman seized my wrist and twisted, ramming the knuckles of my hand against the floor. Her face flew down and hissed at me, tongue wagging behind teeth. I made a fist with my free hand and stuck it in to the woman's temple. She blinked once and dove her forearm against my neck, her other arm finding its way around the other side. Dragged up in to a sitting position, I made a flat with my hand and rammed it, fingernails first, in to the woman's right eye. At once, her hold slackened. A bark of pain ripped from her lungs. I battered at the woman's hands. One of them flew over her right eye, the other clawing at my neck. Boot and sock dug in and shoved me away. I pried at a stickie laspistol lying within reach. The woman's hand swiped downwards, killing the feeling in my wrist. I rolled over a knife she kicked at me, trapping the blade underneath my chest. Barrelling in, the woman's shoulder rammed against me, her free hand tearing at the buttons on my shirt, lifting me off my feet and pummelling me against a pillar. My legs kicked. A laspistol's muzzle kissed my forehead. "Let this face be your last." The woman leant in, the tip of her nose inches from mine. A livid, bloodshot eye fixed upon mine. "Know that for all your pathetic luck and narrow escapes, I still won."

"How 'bout we go together, uh?" I pushed the stickie knife against the woman's side. She twitched, a tremble coming on in her jaw. "Stalemate, innit?"

The woman's good eye butterflied. "Lower the blade and place yourself on your knees with hands behind your back."

"Yes, ma'am." The knife clattered against the floor. "Oh… I remember now. You wanted me to do you. You were scared. You wanted to die."

"Then why didn't you?" The woman twisted the laspistol's muzzle against my cheek. "Why, whelp, why?"

"S'not me who's gotta answer for himself." I leant away from the weapon's intimate touch. "Why d'you want to die?"

The woman took a bunch of my hair and snapped my head back. Her voice whispered in my ear. "I will be the one asking the questions, or can your drug-addled mind not handle that?"

"What?"

"Did you think it sugar?" The woman slapped the back of my head then moved in front of me. "Know you of your true purpose here, pawn?"

"…Trying to help—aahh!" Another blow struck me. "S'nothing to do with us." I whined. "Dunno why you're beatin' on me. Oi, how 'bout we go together, uh? Suicide pact or summat."

The woman flipped her laspistol around in her hand and smacked my mouth with the butt. "Why the attempt at identification? Who is after me?"

"Uh?" I wiped a dribble of blood on my shoulder. "What, the picture? That weren't me, stickie, my mate done it. Helped to jog the memory, see?" I shook my head. "'Cept he's not going to be doing any more. Not after…"

"Those that venture out of bounds deserve everything they get. Was the sin of flesh really worth the trouble?"

"N-n-no, I only went 'cause Art was. I'm not – I'm not in to that; paying for it I mean."

"Enough. Why did you not take the shot, end all our lives and receive commendation for the eradication of xenos?"

"Pfft." I spat blood in front of my knees. "I got no beef wi' stickies. It were Graw that were chasing me 'cause they stole one of our automatics. Can you imagine the bollocking—?" The woman's hand clamped over my mouth. I mumbled on through her hand.

"So Platis lies in distant memory?" The woman's fingers squeezed my cheeks. "Let me see…"

Icy needles peppered my mind, each thought, desire, event, past and present, was laid naked for the intruder's scrutiny. All this took less than a second. "Ignorant, meek, self-conscious, low self-esteem." The woman's hand relaxed. "Not a being worth spending another second's contemplation on." I brought my hands around to my face. With no interference from her, I dragged my hands down over my eyes and nose. "What have you to say before this Ranger offers a choice of death?"

I gathered my loose collar around my neck and held it tightly, looking up at the Ranger's eyes. "I can help you get those weapons in to Graw's hands."

"Then be rewarded as a traitor deserves. With a bullet, coward."

"Okay, fine, I'm a coward. But how are stickies looking to march in to the middle of a human gang and make a fair trade? What d'you get in return?"

"Right now your life is of greater concern to you, whelp."

"You want to kickstart a full-on civil war, don't you? That woman you was talking with on Platis, was you answering to her? Why is it you was dressed differently than all them other stickies?"

The woman tapped her pistol butt in the palm of her hand. "Enough," she growled.

"You're a hostage, aren't you?" My face lit up at the flush tinging the Ranger's cheeks. "Hate being 'ere just as much as I do, don't you?" The Ranger shoved her laspistol in to a hip holster and swiped a knife from the floor, bearing down on me, blade-outwards.

"This woman's got something on you or belonging to you. That's why you're 'ere doing her dirty work, aren't you?" I babbled. "Now who's ignorant—?" The Ranger reversed her knife and cracked me across the brow. I fell in to blackness.

Far from the arena's shadow, the pre-dawn drizzle soaked through the hood covering Derin's head. Slums like these surely belong below the planet's surface, or at least in a hive where such squalor is commonplace. Derin wiped his mask's lenses clear and glanced back at Saeros.

Hab-blocks – human habitation units – rose ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen storeys up in to grey fog. All dirty red brick and grey ferrocrete coated with dust and muck kicked up from the rutted, potholed roads that snaked through shanties belonging to squatters without credit to rent a solid roof over their heads. All they had was flapping sheets nailed to wooden posts to keep out the elements. Some slept in tents, others in derelict vehicles with their windows covered and their innards ripped out to make room for the mass squat. Human filth. Derin smelt the latrines, stinking worse than the sweaty musk of a hundred thousand humans piled in to a district. How am I to place a number to them? They could be millions. Gothic coated walls in so many places, there was not a single bit of bare brick or ferrocrete, and even then, the layers of red, yellow, black, and white graffiti were sprayed on top of one another. NO GODS, NO EMPERORS. Lose one slogan to time, another pops up in its place, thought Derin. Now, where would we find this human Veen?

A flurry of spittle landed on Derin's foot. "Fucking Clanker," a pile of rags hissed. Derin hugged his robes around him and waded through an ankle-deep puddle, Saeros sloshing behind him. Felarch, how…?

Saeros, please, I have little knowledge on our human contact. Maess would have known the details. Derin briefly watched three humans huddled around a puffing gas lamp underneath a half-buried shell of an automobile. Duckboards kept their feet out of the water. Lines of brown powder lay upon a piece of wood, passing for a tabletop. Each human took turns to snort the substance. Abhorrent, utterly abhorrent. Pay no attention to their decadence, Saeros.

They are surviving in this hive. They are strong beings.

Strength comes from the mind and sheer willpower, Saeros, not from the body. I can look death at each one, and they shall know Her.

Felarch. Saeros put a hand on Derin's arm. Watch for sudden rainfall.

Two hunch-backed humans, one riding atop the other's shoulders pushed at the plastic sheeting overhead. A third human crouched ready with mud-stained buckets and crumpled bottles laid out underneath. Water trickled down from the roof, splashing in to the containers. Even deprived of basic necessities, humans still survive. The roaches of the universe. Derin turned away. Come, Saeros.

Fires burned in iron braziers. Animals shrieked in cages. A bazaar filling a narrow street boasted stalls piled two and three atop one another, the tiers linked by walkways made of rickety wood. Behind many stands, ancient weapons, antiques with wooden furniture displayed extortionate price tags. Bundles of semi-automatics, bolt-actions, toggle-actions, lever-actions, breach-loaders; collector's pieces more than anything were on sale alongside bins of surplus ammunition.

Sealed in and boarded up. Derin picked out the twenty-foot-high concrete wall in the distance surrounding the slums. Another ten feet of barbed wire was heaped atop it. Behind the wall, three giant domes, each with their shells punctured, reared up. All three lay at angles, as if their foundations had given way. Derin, hearing a short burst of automatic gunfire, hunched his shoulders and looked in the direction of the shooting. Stay thy hand, Saeros. We come in peace.

Said no race ever.

You are armed, are you not?

Blade and blaster, Felarch. Saeros rubbed his arms. How can so many survive in so little space?

Act only with my say.

Yes, Felarch.

"Felarch." Izuru spoke in Derin's earpiece.

"Lady Ranger." Derin stooped, passing through an opening in a wall, his boots scattering brick fragments. "Apologies for the assault."

"You will see no violence against your own, Felarch. I do not accept your apology. It is I who give apology. I overstepped."

"Accepted. Our guest?"

"He sleeps."

"The sleep of the dead?"

"Sadly no. I have use for the human. I would have words once you return with knowledge of the slums."

"I understand."

"Well, has knowledge been amassed?"

Derin dragged Saeros back in to a shipping container buzzing with flies and pulled a curtain of musty cloth in front of them. "Enemy," he muttered. Three humans in long, loose garments and carrying automatic rifles with long, curved magazines patrolled past. Skirts? Derin drew the drape back an inch and watched the strangely-attired humans move on. Each wore a soft cap without peak or crown and openly wore assault vests bedecked with grenades and ammunition for their hand weapons, all carried slung across their bulked-up chests. Unsuspecting, good.

"No knowledge as of yet, my lady. I have little idea of where this Veen might be."

"You know as much as I do, Felarch. Be cautious. Report in hourly from now."

"Would you carry out a task for me please, my lady?"

"A diversion you seek?"

"Open the smaller of the containers on the table."

"Mm… I may have to search."

"Are you secure?" Derin stopped in his tracks. Saeros nudged him from behind.

"No cause for concern, Felarch. The human… has spirit."

"Aha. I trust you can handle one little human, my lady."

"Caution, Felarch. I have the container in my hands."

"Inside you will find two melta bombs; disk-shaped with a red orb in the centre."

"Yes?"

"If I fail to meet the hour, you will lay our explosives in the humans' narcotic farm. Placement is at your leisure. Be aware of the nature of thermobaric ordnance, it is extremely—"

"Lecture me not in the correct use of melta charges, Felarch. I am familiar with the handling of all variants of explosive ordnance in Eldar arsenals."

"Your confidence heartens me, lady."

"Remember the hour, Felarch. I am very punctual."

"Of course."

Not even a good luck to you, Felarch? Derin wondered. No, not from her, the cold-hearted, half-breed outsider. Why must such a creature exist, and why am I the being saddled with her issues?

Are we to ask for this human, Felarch?

We are to listen, Saeros. Take a leaf from the Ranger's book. A lot can be learned during covert surveillance.

Then why did we depart without the Ranger?

Saeros, I am beginning to have doubts on the Ranger's state of mind. Such an unpredictable, aggressive temperament can only hinder us here.

She is not herself, Felarch. Wouldn't your judgement be marked too if your loved ones' lives were under threat and you were powerless to aid them?

Loved ones? A weakness, Saeros, and ammunition easily turned on you. Be thankful you have nought to lose but your life.

Felarch, another patrol. Saeros's pace slowed.

Maintain pace. Do not deviate. Derin buried his hands in his sleeves and moved to the side, taking a route through a puddle whilst three gunmen swaggered along on the dry part of the path.

Felarch. They follow.

Do not deviate.

The same heavily-armed paramilitaries from before began a procession behind the corsairs. One began humming. Derin swore quietly. Saeros jumped and raised his shoulders when a string of children zipped around him in a circle. Keep moving, Saeros.

Why are they attracted to us? Saeros flapped his arms. Make them go away.

Calm, Saeros. As long as you are with me, no harm will befall you. Derin glanced at the ground. "Lady Ranger, we may be on the cusp of making contact with the human paramilitaries. Standby for further updates." A stone memorial standing in the centre of a square came in to view. A statue of a soldier stood atop it. Legs spread wide, the soldier advanced with bayonetted lasgun and granite chin thrust outwards. Majestic, if not for the piles of glossy red, yellow, and pink paint splattered all over him. At every entrance to the square, armed humans bulked-up in body armour and draped in ammunition belts lounged with their automatics. Behind Saeros and Derin, the humming ceased.

"What mischief happens upon my kingdom?"

Where? A pair of legs appeared from behind the statue, their owner mimicking the heroic pose to a T. "A pittance passes these hands." A human male gripped the statue's lasgun and swung himself round to Derin. "Or be judged in the People's Court." Pink cheeks stood out from a long, scraggly, grey beard that did not match the human's dark brown, equally ratty hair. Military suspenders held up an apron carrying tools across the human's chest. Baggy, grey trousers were bloused over a pair of black sports shoes. A beret hung almost off the side of the human's head.

What does he mean? Saeros shifted close to Derin's shoulder. Felarch?

"Greetings and good morning to you." Derin bowed, tugging at Saeros's wrist. "We bring—"

The human chewed on a long fingernail, bit it off, and spat it out. A few of his lackeys laughed. "You are here at my pleasure, knife-ears." He squatted. "Here and only here because I allow it. Take 'em inside." Mud splashed around the human's feet as he jumped down from the statue and headed over to a set of four doors at the foot of a tall building. With the glass absent, the human simply stepped through one of the frames and continued in to a foyer. A place of entertainment. What do humans call it, a theatre? Fat letters spelt out the words: now showing which may have been illuminated before poverty had swept the district. Other letters were strewn around in the mud, forgotten and neglected.

Stay close, Saeros. Derin caught sight of boots swinging from upper levels where the floors had caved in. We tread a narrow line. "The humans have their headquarters in a theatre four-hundred yards to the west of the arena, my lady. We may have our means of reaching this Veen now."

Again, silence on the other end. "Lady Ranger?"

Oh… Saeros fell back a pace.

Stay with me. Do not aggravate the humans, Saeros. Derin tore his eyes from the boxes high up in the wings of the theatre hall. From the semi-darkness, more humans watched, some even sitting on the very edges with their legs dangling over nothing. The upper circle and main circle held humans and arms in equal amount. The lowest stalls though were bare. What is the purpose of these theatrics? And why the audience?

A red curtain covered the stage. It was through there the human slipped, leaving Derin and Saeros in the company of the armed escort. These twenty humans arranged themselves through the stalls, propping boots upon chairs and cradling weapons in laps. "What was once a venue of the arts," a magnified voice boomed through the theatre. "now hosts nothing but the wretched wastrels of society, the forgotten, the unwanted, the oppressed. Remove your shroud, outsiders. Let us speak man to beast."

Do as he commands, Saeros. Derin pushed back his hood and loosened the clasps holding his mask in place. "Our package in exchange for your cooperation, humans. That was the agreement."

The human's hands pushed through the curtains, widening the gap for his shoulders. "When I say a pittance, I mean a toll. You, my knife-eared friends, have not paid credit-one." The human crouched on the edge of the stage. "Where are my weapons? Where is the boom-boom?"

"My associates conceal the package on the outskirts of the district. Our knowledge on this rendezvous was scant, human. We would have your guarantee that you will keep your end of the bargain and employ the package against government forces. You seek a regional uprising, do you not?"

"It's bad luck to talk about what could, what may be." The human nodded at Saeros. "You scared, boy? I promise not to lay a finger on you. But tell me where my weapons are."

"Delivery of the package will—" A knife embedded itself in the floor between Derin's feet.

"No, no, no more chinwag from you, stickie." The human raised his forefinger and aimed it at the watchers. "I promised these good, honest folks that I would kill every last wicked foreigner that assails our nation." The human clasped his hands together in to a ball and pressed his mouth to it. "I must obey the code. You may only choose."

Return to the Lady Numerial, Saeros. Seek means of escape from this planet. Derin squeezed Saeros's arm. This is my undertaking.

Let us fight our way out, Felarch. Why give in without struggle? Saeros snatched a glance behind him at the armed cadre. Strength comes from the mind and sheer willpower.

Not when a platoon's worth of heavily-armed humans have you in their sights, Saeros. Mob justice will be served here today. "My colleague walks," Derin said to the human. "Grant him mercy."

The human grinned. "He may walk. But he must first watch. After all, he is the guest of honour at this show."

Derin pounced upon the human's mind. "We are leaving this place together without bloodshed, human." A crack behind Derin's ear spun his mind in circles, breaking the connection with the human's mind.

"Oh…" The human pinched the skin on his forehead. "Xenos mind-foolery there. Nice try. Very clever too." Two pairs of hands seized Saeros and Derin, the latter hustled on to the stage, the former held firmly in place. The curtains drew back, letting light on to the stage. A thick rope with a loop at the end dangled from a wooden frame, itself standing several feet above the stage.

"Heed this warning, human, your substance farm will burn in thermobaric fire if I do not send word to my people within the hour."

"Let it burn." The human shrugged and sauntered over to the makeshift gallows, his thumbs tucked inside his apron. "It's what we all become; ashes."

"Know this does not boil down to unwillingness on my mistress's behalf. If you would accept my word that we will deliver the package to you wholesale…" Derin's hands were bound behind his back, his weapons confiscated.

"Your word? What is your word but the word of a xenos?" The human's lip curled. "Those people out there, they would tear me limb from limb for this. String him up. Today's the day I get to kill me a stickie."

"Wait. Don't kill him! Don't kill him!" A figure burst through the doors and ran down the centre aisle. "I have information on the xenos!"

"Tell, Estoc, tell. And be witness to this knife-ears' end." The human wrenched the noose down around Derin's neck.

"The third has her hideaway in the Voros Stadium."

"The weapons?"

"Remain with her. But, Veen, the stickie has captured a soldier. As far as we know he was the only one to walk free from the Belladonna."

"On, the Belladonna!" Veen hopped down from the platform. "That was you, was it?"

"It wasn't us. I'm not talking about the Belladonna. I'm saying we take the soldier and the stickie and use them. Just wait till the government sees we've got three xenos! They'll have to listen to us then."

"A government soldier?"

"Imperial Guard, even better. But, Veen, they'll be looking for him."

"Two, three?" Veen shrugged and pulled himself back up to the noose. "Just numbers. Let's see what stickies are made of, shall we?"

"Veen, we need as many—"

"Be a good lad and fetch me my weapons, Estoc. Watch if you like." Veen grasped the lever and pulled. The floor gave way underneath Derin's feet, dropping him through. Cheers broke out amongst Veen's guard. "WITNESS!" Veen roared, clapping his hands. "Are you watching, freak?"

Derin's legs kicked. The colour in his face drained, turning a grey-blue. The choking gurgles were drowned out by the hoots and cheers.

"Estoc, take your pick here and bounce over to Voros." Veen laughed. "I want to see the weapons and that stickie woman alive and untouched."

Estoc glowered at Veen. "Nine men, with me." He spun on his heel and pried a grenade launcher from another's hands. "CS?"

"Oh, what to do with you?" Veen rubbed his hands together and knelt in front of Saeros. "I'm gonna wear your friend's ears around my neck and nail his body to the wall. Can you understand…?" Veen removed a glove and slapped Saeros across the mouth. "Let's hope this woman is more forthcoming. No matter, I only need you to watch."

Derin's spasms had ceased. "Are you watching, stickie?" Veen crawled underneath the platform and tugged on Derin's feet. "Human or xenos, you still piss yourself…" Veen left the hanging body and slipped down to the theatre floor, retrieving his knife. "This will be the last thing your stickie eyes see." Iron hands held Saeros in place. Taking Saeros's jaw, Veen drove his knife at Saeros's eye.