Mobile Processing Platform HX-119, Caira's Rift

Breaker switches snicked downward. Hanging lights snapped on at intervals, bathing wide mesh floors. Chains jangled beneath them. Tin hat balancing atop his head, Technos Martyn Balzer flipped the foggy breaker lid shut and dug a fat fingertip in to the ridges on the end of a stylus nestling inside a slot on his dataslate. Balzer's hobnailed boots scraped along the ruts in the catwalk spanning the length of the platform's holding cells. Thirty feet beneath him, skinny men in rags filled cells. Without space to lie down, all stood. Hairless, scab-covered heads leaned on shoulders.

Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty. Balzer dabbed the back of his hand against sweat beads inching down his cheek. Forty males in Cell 113, as of this morning. Balzer left a tick in the numbered cell column and NA in the adjacent row for remarks. Wake up, you lot. He unhooked a shock baton from his belt and ran it across the mesh above the men's heads.

Rancid meat and boiled cheese grew stronger in Balzer's nostrils, reaching its peak at Cell 124. Sunken eyes and hollow cheeks stared up at him. Two black fingers rose. Others rose alongside. Two down in the night, Balzer wrote in Cell 124's remark's column. He twisted the dial on a micro-vox transceiver attached to his equipment harness and moved the horn in front of his mouth.

"Block Four, Cell 124. Mark two Afflicted males for Corpse Disposal. Priority Gamma 1-4." Balzer's hand closed around the transceiver's power switch. "Er—amend Cell 124 disposal order to Priority Gamma 1-5." Balzer powered off. No great need to bring the clean-up crew down so early. It can wait until the afternoon shift.

Half an hour later, Balzer signed and printed his name on the morning's page. Sweat struck the dataslate's screen. Ah, damn. Balzer smeared his hi-visibility jacket's sleeve across the screen. Ten minutes early. Another ten minutes to my lunchbreak. Balzer waddled along the catwalks to the bulkhead door separating Blocks 4 and 5. He picked at the lanyard keycard sitting against his round belly and fed it in to the slot beside the door. Block 5, now. Balzer swiped his page across. Wild beasts. He ducked beneath the rising door and crossed the girder bridge linking the platform's blocks. Less heat, at least.

Light edged beneath Block 5's bulkhead door. Hullo. Have these been on all night? Balzer entered the illuminated block and peered over at the first cell on his right. Cell 178. One Wajiit Widetooth. Balzer ticked the creature off and moved on past cells filled with other xenos beasts; bipedal, insectoid, hairy, toothy, some grouped together, most alone.

Mutters grew in Balzer's ears. He ticked off the last four cells without even glancing in them and headed around an L in the block's layout and up to a square ring of cells surrounding a large, open pit. Four workers, bare of safety gear, leaned on the spiked, iron railings looking down at a naked, muscular abhuman chained to a pillar in the centre.

"Oooh, we're in trouble now." A lit cigarette flicked over the edge. "Heh-heh."

"Ky, Ng." Balzer tilted the brim of his tin hat up. "Why aren't you on shift?"

"Brought the boy to see something special." Ky wrapped his arm around the shoulder of a teenage boy without a speck of hair on his wide face. "Little taster, now he's a man and all."

"Err, Dolovo and…" Balzer looked to the other two men.

"Eltaman." The grinning smoker tapped an open cigarette packet on the railing. "Have you come for the prize fight?" Stained lips peeled away from black teeth.

"Prize fight…?" Balzer's damp finger left wide swipes on his dataslate's screen. "Cell 204. One Ogryn."

"Nuh-uh. That's the Away team, down there."

"Where?"

"Arrived last night. She." Eltaman's eyebrows jumped. His friend Dolovo smirked.

"Where?" Balzer clomped around the edge of the pit, following the outstretched arms of Ky and Ng. A body in a dirty, grey pressure suit lay on its side in a corner. "…Can't be right." Balzer's stylus scratched in Cell 204's remark's column. "No humans held in Five. How on Terra did this happen?"

"It's what it is, boss," Ky said. "And that in't no human."

"Yeah, see." Eltaman circled the pit. "Caught this one pretending to be Imperial Navy."

"Navy?"

"Imps never travel alone. If they're making a move, the whole sector knows about it." Eltaman reached Balzer and leaned his head over the railing. "Xenos." He worked his lips and dropped a fat, stained globule down in to the pit. Spittle splashed the floor a foot away from the xenos. "Slant-eared bitch."

"Hear-hear," Dolovo said.

"You ever seen a slave given to an Ogryn before? They have their fun with them before supper usually. Usually."

"Taking its sweet time, this one." Dolovo screwed up a tissue with red spots on it and hurled it at the Ogryn. "C'mon, big man, wake up!"

"I thought you were pissing blood, not snorting it up!" Ky laughed. "Coming out of both ends now, boy, you should be worried."

"Still hurts to piss." Dolovo lit a cigarette.

"Teach you to carry on the dirty behind the bins, like that!" Tobacco spilled through the railing. "Agh!" Eltaman threw the remains of his cigarette in to the pit. "Look at this guy, he fucks who he wants. Respect a man like that."

"In't no man. Same way that in't no woman."

A snort rolled from the Ogryn's twitching nostrils. Its chains clinked. Balzer pawed at his vox. "Block 5, Cell 204. Mark one xenos for relocation to Block 9. Priority—"

"Aw, fuck your relocation!" Eltaman swiped the vox horn away from Balzer's mouth. "Only entertainment we've got aboard this junker!"

Balzer moved way from Eltaman and fixed his horn back in place. "Priority Alpha. I repeat, xenos, Block 5, Cell 204."

"Alpha is humans only, boss," Ky said. "That's an omega detail. Give it a week or two."

"Another six weeks' without a woman." Dolovo scratched his groin. "Can't we bring it up here instead? My cock's itching."

"It would be impure." Ky shook Ng's shoulder. "Not having the boy commit to sin."

"An administration error reflects badly on the company, and they come down on us, hence layoffs." Balzer lurched away from Eltaman's outstretched arm swiping at his horn. "Dolovo, you know as well as anyone, Block 1 offers slaves."

"But surely if you take a slave, you lower their value." Ng piped up. "And wouldn't that come down on our monthly pay?"

"Dead to rights." Ky smacked Ng's back. "Listen to the boy. That's an up-and-coming, right there—hah!"

"Mm, bit of life advice, son…" Eltaman threw a steel nut at the Ogryn. "Take anything you want from xenos. Anything."

Spittle leaped from the Ogryn's jaws. Fat toes curled. Chains rattled. A growl surfaced. Joints cracked. It planted a wide paw on the floor and shambled upright. Nine feet of hunched-over muscle panted at the xenos.

"Haw-haw, that's a yard if I ever saw one!" Dolovo's head jutted forwards. "Look at that!"

"Son, you wish you had a yard like that." Eltaman tossed a nut at the growling Ogryn. "If you wake it up, you'd better do it gently—hahaha!"

"Hope it's a screamer." Dolovo's clenched hands shook. A dull clung rang through the block. All lights died.

"Whoa, er… generator?" Feet clanged on the walkway. "Hello…? Balzer, you're the technos. Can you flip the breakers?"

"Boss?" Ky called across the pit. "I check the fusebox. You flip the breakers, yeah?"

"Go on, boss-man." Eltaman flicked open his lighter. A tiny flame danced in front of his face.

"Ha-ha! Imagine only seeing your face coming at you out of the dark." Dolovo held up his own lighter from the other side of the pit.

Balzer grumbled incoherently and tramped past Eltaman and around the corner to the far end of the block. Ogryn and a xenos! Don't even care about the admin error. Balzer marked each man's name in the remark's column. I'll see their pay docked, at least—on my shift too!

An animal's squeal flew in Balzer's ears. God-Emperor! His hand flew over his jumping heart. It's actually doing it. Do xenos really sound like that? Balzer squinted at the breaker box's shape in the dark. Eighteen switches faced upward. Come on, damn it. Balzer snicked each one down then flipped them back up. More squeals came from the pit. Metal zinged. The lights remained dead. A man's shriek reached Balzer.

"Hello?" Balzer left the breakers. "Ky? Ng?" He twisted his vox horn over his mouth. "Block 5. Technos Gemlich 443 requesting response team. Priority Alpha 1." Cages rattled around him. Balzer licked his lips and took a single step towards the corner. "Dolovo? Eltaman?"

A bareheaded man stood with his back to Balzer. "Ky, the fuses! Did you…?" Ky toppled backwards. His body crashed on to the catwalk. "Ky!" Balzer twisted his horn out of the way and fell to his knees next to Ky. "Oh, God-Emperor…" A lighter lay next to Ky's body. Balzer flipped the cover open and held the light over Ky. Red bite-marks dotted Ky's blood-covered neck. Grey lumps stuck to his cheeks. Your eyes. Reddish, brown mush filled Ky's eye sockets. "Ermmph." Balzer clamped his mouth shut. "Ugh…"

"M—mama…"

"Ng!" Balzer scrambled over to the pit. His boots collided with a body on the catwalk. "Agh—!" Hard mesh smacked Balzer's knees. The lighter died. "…God-Emperor!"

"My… My eyes." Ng lay face up. "It took my eyes."

"Ng." Balzer shook the lighter. "Who did? The Ogryn?" The blinded Ng clawed at Balzer's leg.

"…Xenos."

"What?" Balzer stretched his arm out and peered in to the pit. "Throne…" A glistening tongue protruded from the Ogryn's mouth. A chain wrapped around its neck. Beside it lay a body. "Dolovo, Eltaman!" Balzer's trembling hand switched his micro-vox to general broadcast. "Emergency traffic. Block 5 escapee—"

Sweat pattered Balzer's shoulder. His jaw slackened. "God, help me." His eyes rose to the ceiling. A shadow swooped down and rammed his head on to the spiked railing.


HX-119 Bridge

Paper churned from a cogitator. Executive Officer Raymond Obla ripped the sheet out. Escapee, xenos, Block 5, Cell 204. Obla clambered up the companionway to the bridge. Wet ink dribbled across the warm page. Gemlich 443. Balzer.

Caira's Rift, a starry, blue stain on the vacuum, shone outside the processor's forward-facing viewport. Crewmen sat glued to their stations around the tiered bridge. The platform's navigator occupied the central podium. In front of it and slightly below sat Captain Daniel Kerveguen.

"Skipper." Obla held the sheet out. "We've got a runner, Block 5."

"Thanks, Ray." Kerveguen's eyes flitted across the blocky font. He flipped open a cover on the arm of his chair and spoke in to an intercom. "Entry team, Block 5."

"Permission to enact lockdown order number two, Skipper?"

"Make it order number one. Find out how many legs our runner has, would you?" Kerveguen flipped the cover shut.

"Legs, Skipper?"

"Yeoman, fetch me a recaf. Black, no sucra."

"Aye, Skipper."

Kerveguen opened a wooden case and took out a cigar. "Block 5 houses everything from rad-rodents to barrel-brutes. Since this printout specifies the runner as xenos, it would be in the ship's company's best interests to know whether or not it can eat a man's face off."

"Aye, Skipper. Sorry, this was all the information in the printout." Obla folded the sheet up.

"Two, four, six, or eight legs, Ray. The captain should not have to check beneath his bunk before he turns in."

"Aye, Skipper. I'll check with Security." Obla left the bridge, vaulted down the companionway, and hurried through the tight corridors beneath the bridge to the platform's small security station. Inside, one of the platform's eighteen-strong security detail manned sixteen cogitator screens.

"Oh! Hey, Number One." Boots lifted themselves off a desk. Watchman Kul Limbu shut a magazine and flung it next to a piled ashtray. Undone trousers hugged his knees.

"Lim, there's a runner loose! Pull your trousers up."

"Wha—where?" Limbu left his trousers down and dragged his chair closer to the screens. "First I'm hearing of any runners."

"Block 5. I just told the Skipper. He's ordered a team down there."

"Ahhh, Block 5…?" Limbu tapped a keyboard. A screen on the bottom row flicked through views.

"Cell 204. A xenos."

"Err…" Limbu's finger hammered the keyboard. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon."

"Wait, you went past it!" Obla's finger jabbed at the screen. "Go back two."

Limbu tapped twice. "Err, this is all I have of Five." The black and white image showed an L-shape in the block.

"Down there on the catwalk. Bottom left." Obla's neck stretched. "…Is that a head? It looks like a head." He tapped Limbu's shoulder. "If we're not already on amber alert, sound it. Fetch the master-at-arms and make sure all off-duty personnel are sealed in their quarters." Obla unhooked a headset attached to a micro vox off the wall. "Mobilise the other security teams and keep in contact with them. I'll be listening in." He attached the vox to the back of his belt and fitted the headset over his ears. "Lim." Obla plucked a shock baton from a cabinet.

"Yeah?"

"Pull your trousers up."

Obla's torchbeam bobbed in front of him through the darkened cell blocks. His deck shoes bounced off the gantry mesh. Okay, Block 5. Obla stuck his crew card in the door slot and ducked beneath the groaning door. Lanyard swinging, he rounded the L in the block. Lit torches swung on him.

"Who's that? Identify yourself!"

"Obla!" Obla threw his forearm over his eyes. "Chief, how's it looking?"

"Four men down, Number One." Chief Security Officer Rafael Kova lowered his torch. "Eltaman's missing." Behind Kova, two of his men hoisted a body up from the pit by thick rope looped around its chest. A third, down in the pit, pushed the body up by its feet. "That's Dolovo, Gamma Shift. The three on the floor are Balzer, Ky, and Ng."

"God-Emperor…" Obla's torch fell upon thick blood shining on one of the spikes topping the railing. Three crewmen lay on their backs on the gantry.

"It took their eyes first. Ky's throat, too." Kova flicked his shock baton at a dead Ogryn lying against a post in the centre of the pit. "Big boy's had a terrible time, down there."

"That's the inmate? How did he…?"

"…Xenos."

"Ng?" Kova dropped to his knees next to Ng. Light fell upon the youth's bloody eye sockets. "Boy!"

"It was a xenos." Phlegm gurgled in Ng's throat. Kova dug his hand beneath Ng's nape and lifted his head off the floor. "Xenos..." Pale lips wobbled. "...F—f—female."

"Wild animal, more like."

"Ng…" Obla's hand closed around Ng's shoulder. "Where did the xenos come from? Where did it come from, Ng?"

"Uncle. Uncle Ky?"

"Boy!" Kova slapped Ng's cheek. "Answer the executive officer's question."

"G—g—Gamma picked up a starfighter." A lump surged upward in Ng's throat.

"Ng. Swallow."

Ng gulped. "Xe—xenos spy. They threw it to the Ogryn."

"Assholes." Kova sneered. "Class three offence, failing to report a new detainee. Gamma Shift will suffer for this, boy."

"Save the repercussions, Chief. If you haven't already, call the medics. We'll need bodybags too."

"Lucky it didn't take your throat too, boy."

"Don't think blaming Ng will solve our problem." Obla stood up and wound around the men laying Dolovo's limp body down. "The master-at-arms will be here shortly. I'm reporting this to the skipper."

"You want to be the one to tell him there's a killer loose?"

"No, but it's my job." Obla strode away. "Secure this area. Nothing else gets loose!"

Medics with bodybags and folded stretchers beneath their arms rushed past Obla in to the cell block. "Are we too late? Is anyone alive in there?"

"One's alive—it's Ng, Ky's nephew."

"Thanks, Number One. Are we on red alert?"

"No, but we will be." Obla thrust his keycard in to the door's slot. "Kova's down there. I'm shutting the door behind you." The cell block's door boomed shut. Obla rushed over to the deck's single turbolift and slapped his keycard on the scanner attached to the bulkhead. He moved his headset up on to his crown. "Are you receiving? This is Number One. Are you receiving?" Obla felt for the micro-vox's dial. "Are you receiving?"

"Chief. Loud and clear, Number One," Kova replied. "Medics are on the scene. Bags too. Let us know if you find Eltaman. Over."

"Right, Chief." The lift's numerals ticked downward. Eltaman, Dolovo, you idiots. No idea what we're dealing with here. Obla's fingers drummed on the butt of his shock baton. He threw a look at the long corridors stretching away from him. Xenos female. Is it a bloodsucker? A shapeshifter, even?

Ding. Obla took a step towards the parting doors. A body swung down from the ceiling, bowling Obla backwards. His elbow cracked upon the floor. Obla's trembling fingers flew to his face. Hot air surged over his red palms. Oh, God! Eltaman.

A pink tip poked between blue lips. Neck askew, Eltaman swung from ripped-up cables, bound together in a clump of three. Punctures and slashes covered his cheeks and his crooked jaw. Blood wept from mangled eye sockets. Obla shut his eyes and turned his head away from the hanging body. A wild animal. He struggled to his feet and shuffled in to the lift. "Chief…?"

"Yeah, go ahead, Number One."

"I… I found Eltaman." Obla's eyes followed the cables through an open hatch in the lift's ceiling. Above it, the shaft climbed away in to darkness.


Rubber tubing dragged at Izuru's shoulders. Sticky hands dragged her body along the vent floor. Her teeth clamped down on a metallic cigarette lighter.

"Nephalem."

The lighter clattered on the floor. Izuru slid her hand through the dust and closed her fingers around the square body. The cover flipped open and a bright, white finger writhed before Izuru's face.

"Nephalem." The flame died. Izuru snapped the cover shut and flicked it open. "Not of this world." Izuru shook the lighter. Her thumb snicked the wheel downward. A spark jumped and light flew outward. Clutching the lighter in front of her, Izuru dug her sore elbows and knees in to the floor and crawled onward.

"You are the root of all my sorrow."

Izuru's shoulders stiffened. Her chin trembled. The passageway tilted. "No." Twin pinpricks moved towards her.

"Let the light go," the voices whispered. "You are a creature of the shadows. Embrace it. Only then will you know peace."

"No." Izuru thrust the light ahead. Tubing rubbed at her shoulders and scraped across her crown.

"Look at me."

I will not look.

You cannot hide. I know your secrets. I feel your fear. The lies, the affairs, the killings. You are poison to everything and everyone.

Izuru's lips stretched. A tiny whimper arose in her tightening throat. "You are the root of all my happiness."

"Ahh, none have stayed with you quite like the boy. Even whoring yourself out to rogues and renegades alike, you still bear that candle. What does that say for your character? A midnight fumble guarantees no blossoming bond."

"You are the root of all my happiness."

"Was he, when you drove him to slaughter his own kind? Whore's promises, whispered in to the pillow you shared."

Tubing throttled Izuru's waist and rubbed through her suit's shoulders. Gods, this wasn't meant for human traversal. The flame wobbled in her outstretched hand. Sweat inched down her burning forehead. A thin bead crawled along her nose, reached the tip, and fell forwards. Wait. Thumps pounded in Izuru's ears. I'm on a slope.

"—AGH!" The flame sailed away down the tunnel. Izuru's hands scrabbled at the floor. Her body slid forwards. "Nonononono—" Pipes screeched around her and popped from their brackets. Dust flew in Izuru's eyes. Iron grating slammed in to her forehead.

Metal scraped across metal. Suspended upside down by an ankle, Izuru dangled. Her arms hung above the teeth-marked lighter lying on the deck. Blood throbbed in her head. Through cracks in her eyelids, a figure dragging a long, metal rod shambled towards her. Lesions discoloured its pale skin. A deep cavity yawed beneath its ribs. A sharpened end stuck out of the rod's head at right-angles. Slow, ragged breaths seeped from the human's teeth. It brought the rod to bear and swung it behind its head.

Izuru lurched upwards and grabbed at the pipe holding her ankle. Air whooshed beneath her head. The human spun around and tottered. His weapon bounced off the deck. "UMPH!" Izuru's back smacked the deck. Broken rubber piping poured from the vent. The human circled Izuru and heaved the rod in grimy fingers. Izuru rolled upright, seized loose piping, and wrapped a length around both wrists and worked it taut. Hissing, the human staggered at Izuru. The rod wheeled above his head and flew downwards on to the taut rubber. Izuru thrust it off, rammed her knee in to the human's groin, and whipped the rubber around his neck. She hauled the gagging human on to her shoulder and straightened up. Kicking feet left the deck. Bony fingers pattered at the garrotte.

Clunk. The rod dropped from slack fingers. Izuru jerked on the pipe and let the body fall. Black saliva shone on the human's lips. Bruises darkened his emaciated body. Rubber flopped to the deck around Izuru. She swayed and fell against a railing. Beads crept down her stinging cheeks.

Wheezes broke free from the human's nostrils. Soiled cloth scraped over the deck. Reddened, swollen fingers slid towards the rod. Izuru dove at the human and brought her boot down on his wrist. Bone cracked. Izuru snatched the rod and raised it above her head. An open hand flew at her. The sharpened point pierced the human's palm. Izuru drove her shoulder it to the rod and shoved the human's palm against his chest. Liquid blood spurted. Izuru stomped on the rod. Ribs crunched. A sharp pop came from the human's chest. A squelching noise rose in his throat. A stain spread across his trousers. Izuru wrenched the rod free and collapsed to her knees. Bright red hands gripping the rod, Izuru laid it across her knees.

"This could be your kingdom."

"No." Izuru brought her hand up to her aching head. Pink crystals stung her fingers. "This is not me."

"Blood flows among the roots, the roots of all your happiness."

"You will not break me." Izuru jabbed the rod in the deck and pushed herself upright. Buzzing light strips flickered on and off. Blocky, white numbers flaked on the ferrocrete walls Izuru crept past. The tiny, curling flame hung in front of her.

Distant shouts reached Izuru's ears. Deep cages filled the space beneath a wide gantry. Gods, the smell. Izuru laid a hand on the railing and shone the lighter over the cages. Barred doors hung askew, their rusted hinges bent and broken.

"Look around. Only the dead are there to listen. You made them."

Izuru turned her palm upwards. Pinkish scraps—human flesh—stuck to her skin and clung beneath her fingernails. "How did I…?"

"Don't you remember? You did that. Those bodies in the pit. You made them."

Izuru curled her fingers. Ragged nails dug in to her palm. "You made me—YOU MADE ME!"

Feet rumbled. Flickering lights blasted humans stampeding along the gantry further back. Hoots and howls surged after Izuru. In the distance, an alarm began wailing. Izuru, snapped the lighter closed, tucked the rod against her shoulder, and belted away from the mob. A spiralling light flung a red hue across the cell block. Iron teeth protruded from a lowering blast door. Izuru dived beneath the gap. Jagged edges tore through Izuru's pressure suit. Her fingers found the rod. It zinged through, a half second before the door sealed.

"Attention: Code Red. All inmates, return to your cells. Failure to comply will be met with deadly force."

Prison ship. Izuru winced at the booming voice. "Ah…" Her fingertips came away from her ear covered in pink crystals. Thumps rang on the bulkhead behind her. What is that? Black gunge filled deep channels running away from sluice gates beneath the gantry.

"Blood flows freely here," whispered the voices.

"Shut up." Izuru followed the gantries hugging the sharp inclines above the gates.

"You speak only to yourself."

A torchbeam swung over a gantry higher up the incline. Izuru hunched her shoulders and crouched. Feet thudded on iron above her. More savages. The feet passed overhead. Criminals, Warp-afflicted?

Beings, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. They are never just people, are they? Every body you have left behind you was a wicked soul in life, thoroughly deserving of their savage death.

They had a body at least. Izuru snaked her hand through a barred gate and felt for the latch. More than you ever had.

More of the black gunge dripped from thick pipes hanging over a channel disappearing in to a tunnel. Voices echoed in a long corridor ahead of Izuru. Bright specks glowed in the darkness. Many, many clattering feet flew towards her. Izuru whipped around and glimpsed other bobbing lights growing brighter behind her. Laughter, whistles, hoots, and screeches leaped at her. Izuru grabbed the railing and threw a look down at the filth filling the channel. Lights surrounded her.

Thick muck rushed up to Izuru. Her feet split the surface and flailed around in the gloop. Far above her, the mobs converged. Gods, there's no bottom. Izuru's arms sliced through the tar-like liquid. "Pfft!" Copper soured her mouth. Blood? Izuru swam over to a curving tunnel, all the while keeping her head above the surface. What are they doing on this ship? A wave walloped Izuru from behind. Blood surged over her head. Stone supports whipped past her. Her arm struck the tunnel wall. Sloshing liquid roared from an open culvert. Eyes tight shut, Izuru flew from the tunnel. Her body walloped something stiff.

Izuru yelped and jerked her face away from a naked, grey-skinned thing with a bulging stomach. Flies pattered its skin and tiny, white maggots infested its eye sockets. A swollen tongue stuck out of its mouth. Bloated, puffy-lipped corpses packed a high-walled pit. Izuru clamped her lips together and crawled back from the corpse's stomach. Far above her hung rows of circular saws.

Gods. Hairs on Izuru's arms stood erect. A whimper stole from her lips. It's people.

"They kneel before the throne. It is yours for the taking."

"HELP MEEE!" Izuru wailed at the saws. "Help me." She hugged her arms and pressed her chin to her breast. James, help me. Steel screeched. Wheels rattled and groaned. A dull whine came from the saws. The chipped, blood-stained blades squeaked in to motion. Izuru's hands flew to her slime-covered pressure suit and dug out the lighter. "Come on." Izuru blew on the mechanism and snicked the wheel down. Sparks flung light across the pit. Izuru picked her way across gassy bellies and shrivelled heads to the far corner and laid the flame on a crusty sleeve. Grey smoke wafted from the rags Izuru set alight. Whizzing saws buzzed. Soiled sleeve plugging her nostrils, Izuru clambered around the pit, setting clothing alight. Smoke spiralled up to the descending ceiling. Tears seeped from Izuru's eyes. Her nose ran. The lighter died. Come on, come on, come on. Izuru slapped the cover shut then flicked it open.

"Up to the throne."

"You're welcome to it." Orange light played across the saws. Loose hair strands flapped across Izuru's face. She shoved the lighter at bodies all around her. Phlegm catapulted from her throat. Izuru lurched on to all-fours. Smoke seared her lungs. Spluttering, Izuru fell on the pile. The flame in her hand wavered and died. Far away, an alarm shrieked.


UEC Communication Array

Taut cord creaked. Ensconced in a hammock, I dozed. A ticking clock on a shelf beside me read 24:07.I pushed my thin blanket away and swung a leg over. A plastic bucket clattered beneath my foot and tipped over. I hopped on one leg out of the hammock and hit the wall. Mops, buckets, brushes, vacuums, and cleaning chemicals packed the storage cupboard. "Aw, God-Emperor…" I stood the bucket upright and shoved it in a corner. A long, floppy mop tipped sideways.

Barefoot, I dragged my blanket from the cupboard and crossed the wide floor to the comm array's central hub; a sharp depression occupied by a glowing holo-projector. Cogitator monitors hung from articulated arms circling the projector. Blocky, yellow text spooled across the green screens. I sunk in to a swivel chair and laid my feet on a console supporting tabletop monitors. On the far side of the hub, a floor-to-ceiling viewport looked out at the gas giant the station orbited.

A granite-topped island occupied the centre of a kitchen unit. All to himself. I trudged in from the hub room. The old watchman had it made up here. Cupboards hung over a worktop skirting the wall. Four hobs sat over a cooker. Pots and pans dangled from hooks. Breakfast, Lusia? Oooh, I'd love to, James. Pour me an orange juice, would you? I chuckled to myself. A teabag rasped in to a mug with an Imperial Aquila emblazoned on it. Dinner. I kneeled beside a rack holding a few bottles of amasec. You and me.

A rapid-fire beeping drew me back to the hub room. I gripped the sharp edges of a monitor and leaned down. Turbolift Status: In-transit. "Lusia?" I threw a look behind me at the sealed bulkhead doors leading to the lift's holding chamber. Can't be. This late? On the screen, a single red dot began travelling up the lift shaft.

I flew in to the kitchen and lifted the kettle off the boil. Lukewarm water splashed in the sink. I tossed the dry teabag in a pedal bin and stashed the mug in a cupboard. Damn it, Lusia. I rushed back to the store cupboard and shoved my clothes and shoes behind cleaning chemicals along with the hammock. Told me they wouldn't search here.

Many lights blinked in the hub's central server room. Fans blew cool air between the server stacks. I dug my fingertips in to a long panel two feet off the floor and pried it off. Cables and flashing lights filled a cubbyhole. I take it back. I shoved my blanket in and climbed after it. What would I do without you. My outstretched arm found the loose panel and heaved it up in to its recess. Lying on my side, I manoeuvred it back in to place. Light shone through inch-high strips in the panels.

"…Current watchman has been sent on sabbatical after we had a near-miss a few weeks ago. He was very, very understanding about it," a female voice drifted in the server room.

"And you've taken care of this hub ever since?"

"That is correct, Officer. We send one or two of our enginseers up every full cycle just to give the place the once-over, check if any high-priority traffic has been deflected by our security filters."

"Show me every room, Madam Magos. Articulate yourself in Low Gothic. No tech-talk."

"Of course." The voices died away.

Magos? Lusia's friend. What was her name again—Kinnaird? Delia Kinnaird—no, Deliria. Is she in on this? I squidged my face up to the nearest crack in the panel, giving me a narrow view of the open door.

"Safety violation." A pair of steel-capped boots fitted with greaves halted in the doorway. "All sensitive areas are required to be fitted with biometric security systems as outlined under UEC Station Civic Code 44B, subsection Kelpin, or at best physical locks. Take note, Magos."

"Noted, Officer. Should our annual earnings permit such luxuries, we would love to implement them at this installation." The red-robed Magos followed the UEC-SEC officer around the server stacks.

"Physical locks then. Action this immediately, Magos."

"Very well, Officer. I shall pass this down to my enginseers."

A shadow fell across the crack in the panel. A boot heel scraped along loose metal. "Safety violation." The officer stooped. A loose screw protruded between his glove's thumb and forefinger. Red slits in his helmet turned to the panel. My stomach clenched. Warm palms scrunched up my blanket. The screw moved towards a hole in the corner of the panel and squeaked inward.

"All tech remains in custody of the Adeptus Mechanicus, Officer. We will deal with it."

The screw retracted from the hole and clinked on the floor. "Only a single panel." The officer dug his fingertips in to the cracks. "Might it conceal…"

My trembling hands clung on to the inside mounting brackets. Purple stained my cheeks. A vein bulged in my temple.

"Dedicated tools are necessary if you wish to cannibalise this holy construct, Officer."

"Fetch them. This panel will reveal its secrets." A finger tapped the panel. "Do you not heed the order of UEC-SEC, Magos?"

"I heed, and I would be more than happy to comply. This is the heart of UEC's communication array, the dwelling of this installation's machine spirit. Should you wish to disturb it, proper ceremony must be conducted."

The officer's hands left the panel and he straightened up. His boots kicked the loose screws across the floor. "Take the panel off."

"With the Omnissiah's blessing, I will. Here, now, I am unable to perform such an action."

"Step on UEC-SEC's toes, Magos, we will kindly step on yours in return. Take the fucking panel off."

"Holy oils and a techpriest need be on-site before the ceremony can be conducted, Officer. You are welcome to observe."

"Magos, you are all alone up here."

"I am never alone, Officer. I respect the Omnissiah, and it respects me. Can you say the same for your God-Emperor?"

The officer clomped out of the server room. Outside, his glove smacked the wall. "Control, Control. Officer E-3834, requesting backup at UEC comms array."

Oh, shit. The Magos scooped up the scattered screws. Oh, God.

"Magos. If you please, shuttle down to the station. Officers will meet you."

"Officer, code input is required on both this floor and the station itself."

"Tell me."

"Biometrics too."

"I see."

"Officer, bar the turbolift, there is not a single means off egress off this array. You have the Adeptus Mechanicus' full co-operation."

"So be it. Carry out your ceremony."

"Faithfully." The Magos stepped out of the server room. Two pairs of footsteps faded.

Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one-hundred. I punched out the panel and slithered out on to the cold floor. Red imprints covered my arms and legs. Hugging my blanket around my shoulders, I hobbled over to the hub and peered at the turbolift screen.

Turbolift Status: In-transit.

Oh, thank God. I sunk in to the swivel chair and dragged my fingers through my beard. Back to the station. Where else am I supposed to go?

Magnets clanged on the hub's floor. Sealed head-to-feet in the AdMech spacesuit, I thudded around the empty turbolift chamber outside the hub room and over to the airlock door. Okay, door's sealed behind me. I flipped a clear lid off a lever embedded in yellow and black hazard lines and pulled it down, plunging the chamber in to darkness.

"Warning. Depressurisation in progress. Please secure all essential cargo." Emergency lighting lit the chamber.

"Come on, hurry up." The exterior noise fell to nothing. I closed the lid then pressed the airlock door release next to it. Oh, visor.My shutters snapped down a moment before the blinding sunlight leaped through the widening doors. Okay, I can do this. Vibrations rang through my boots. The soles kept me captive on the narrow ledge just outside the outer doors. I can do this. I brought a boot backwards and sealed the doors behind me. God-Emperor, I hope that re-pressurises automatically. It should do. It has to.

Magnets loosened a touch, I trod the array's underbelly. Far, far above my head, lights glimmered on the blocky, spire-dotted mega-cathedral that made up UEC's exterior. The single, narrow lift shaft lanced from the array's underbelly and disappeared in to an unlit area between it and the station. My gauntlets gripped the struts and I pried my boots off the array and hauled myself upward.

Frost faded in on the edges of my visor and settled in a fine layer on my suit. A gentle tingle ran through my fingers. I angled my soles towards the shaft and let the magnets hold them in place. God-Emperor, that was fast. A black blur buzzed down the shaft and passed the section I clung to. How far? I spread my knees and tilted my helmet down and tracked the receding lights on the turbolift climbing up to the array. Not even halfway yet.

"Oxygen supply at twenty per cent."

"What?" I swiped frost from the mini cogitator bolted to my breastplate. A thin, white bar wobbled just above a red emergency zone. "No. Nononono." I lunged for the closest girder support beam and played my gauntlets along the edges of the shaft. My legs flailed behind me. The turbolift rocketed past, back towards the station. Not good.

"Warning. Oxygen supply at fifteen per cent." The bar stood squarely in the red. Blood rushed to my thudding ears. "Oxygen supply at twelve per cent."

"Fuck."

"Oxygen supply at ten per cent."

"Oh, shit." My soles bashed against the shaft. Bobbing backwards and forwards, I seized an angled strut and steadied myself. Over a hundred yards of open space separated me from the station's exterior.

"Critical user error. Please activate your onboard emergency beacon and await further instructions."

My fingers closed around the cogitator's volume knob and twisted it. Enough from you. I lowered the magnetics to minimum, steadied, then launched myself at the station. Arms and legs outstretched, I flew dead-straight through the vacuum. Half-built gantries and empty loading arms rushed past. Skeletal nubs protruded from bare ferrocrete outcrops. Yellow and black hazard strips whipped my shoulders. A slanted vent rushed up to me. I tucked my legs and rolled over. "AGH!" My heels slammed in to the vent and ploughed through. Legs wheeling, I tumbled down a duct. Spinning blades splintered beneath my boots and dinged around. Sparks lit up the duct. Roaring air blasted me. Metal fragments spattered my suit. Cracks distorted my visor. A static alloy vent burst from its housing beneath my boots. Bare rock sprayed my limp body.

Air seeped through tiny cracks in my fogged visor. A thick rail dug in to my suit. My gauntlets closed around thick, sharp stones forming a bed beneath the rail. "Ugh—" I clawed at my helmet's seals. "Aghh…"

Clunk. The cracked dome hit the rail and rolled away. Red cheeks stung. My throat burned. "Eurgh…" I heaved up saliva on the rail. Bright light grew in my peripheral vision. One eye clenched shut, I held my hand over my face. A horn screamed at me. I dived off the rail and clamped my hands over my ears. Howling air rushed over me and lifted me up. Clanking, rattling train cars tore overhead. Bowled over and over, I clawed channels in the ballast and clung to a thick sleeper. The last car whipped past. Blasted back over my forehead, my damp hair stood on end. I rolled on my back and gulped in air.

A hum flitted through the rails. Ballast trembled and dislodged. Light flew up the tunnel towards me. I scrambled back from the vibrating tracks. Dust blasted my face. Though the cracks in my eyes, I caught sight of headlights coming from the other direction on the adjacent track. I tore away from the oncoming light and flung myself against the tunnel wall. Wind whooshed across my back and stole the air from my lungs. Stones zinged off my suit.

Blinking spots swirled around my eyes. Gongs filled my ears. Ballast crunched beneath my boots. I toppled towards a door embedded in the tunnel wall and dug my shoulder in. A lock stood firm. I jerked my boot back and rammed it against the alloy. A spotlight flew up the tunnel and bathed the door. I backed up and charged. My sole slammed in to metal and the door flew open. I fell inside and kicked the door shut. A train roared past outside. Lying spreadeagled on my back, I heaved my suit's upper half upright. Charred, blackened plating covered my chest and shoulders. Thick cracks distorted the cogitator's faded screen. Piece by piece, the suit fell away at the side of the tunnel. Head bowed, shoulders slumped, I trudged away in to the darkness.

Unlit lamp posts filled the street outside the AdMech temple. Nor were there any lights on inside the walls. Blackout in effect? My fingers hovered over a brass knocker fitted to the gate. They'll just turn me away. A stranger in the night. I withdrew from the gate and looked up at the bars.

Gravel crunched beneath my shoes. I approached the fountain with the Archmagos mounted atop it and tiptoed up the wooden staircase to the covered landing running around the courtyard.

"I suppose we have our dear spark Andalusia to thank for that little bolthole." Magos Kinnaird stepped on to the landing in front of me.

"Ah." I raised my hands. "Madam Magos, we can both offer an explanation…"

"Come in, James. It's quite alright."

Brown, frothy liquid filled an AdMech-marked mug the Magos placed on a wooden table in front of a fireplace. "Do you like Cocoa?" She sat down on the bench opposite.

"Mm, thanks." I sipped the rich, nutty liquid. "Did you know?"

"Hmmhmm." The Magos tapped a sunken, flesh-coloured device in her right ear. "That's not just for the hard-of-hearing, dear. I heard you breathing outside the server room."

"You lied to them."

"Haw! And it gave me no greater pleasure than to spit in that musclehead's face. Ignorant, obnoxious oaf. Give a man little bit of power over others and his true, inner self surfaces. Acid words and threats—beating an old woman up! The nerve!"

"That ceremony you mentioned."

"Eugh, that was the hardest step. Raising old Hadderon, getting him dressed and dragging him up to the array with his oils. Bloody waste of time—er, are you familiar with the scrapcode? Andalusia might have spoiled to you…"

"May I see her?"

"…She is still in the workshop." The Magos twisted on the bench. "Unless I am mis…taken?"

"You know where everyone in your faculty is?"

"Yes, dear. It must be something personal to her if she is up this late."

"D'you know what it might be?"

"I know where everyone is, not what they are doing—especially after hours! That distinction lies with the Omnissiah."

"So, you discount the machine spirits inside technology, yet you still believe in the Omnissiah?"

"A question of faith." The Magos lifted her leg over the bench and spread her arms. "You are fortunate to find yourself in the right place, dear." Smiling, the Magos bustled out of the dining hall. I propped my elbow on the dry wood and ran my fingernails through my hair. Your faith rewards you, at least. I just get kicked and clubbed.

Sticky, brown dregs gathered at the base of my mug. Head propped up in my hand, I ran a fingernail along a narrow crevice in the table. "Good news, James." The Magos strode in. "Andalusia would be happy to see you. She seemed in a good mood."

"Seemed?" I climbed up from the bench and pinched my sore shoulders.

"She only swore at me once."

"Eh-heh, that's Lusia."

"Oh, one more thing…" The Magos uncurled a wound measuring tape. "I'll need to take a measurement."

Wide-brimmed, tin helmet weighing down on my spine, I clung to a rattling cart the Magos drove along a narrow-gauge track running along a tunnel beside a dirt road. Broad buffers stood in front of chunky blast doors leading on to a factory floor.

"She's in the kiln room." The Magos braked before the buffers and brought the cart to a stop. "It's at the very far end. Follow the light."

"Thank you, Magos." I pressed my helmet to my crown and hopped off the cart.

"Any time, dear. Make sure you're not out too late." The Magos waved and backed the cart up.

I'll be tucked up in bed somewhere. I nudged my helmet's wide rim up. Definitely won't be here.

Half-built tractors stood in bays covered in yellow and black hazard stripes. Laminated film covered a posteron the bare ferrocrete. Adopt protective posture at all times in this area. I pulled my helmet off by the rim and dropped it on a workbench. Hell with it. I'll be a hunchback before long wearing that.

With the load on my spine lightened, I strolled around the deserted factory floor, hands in pockets. Sixteen bays, eight on either side of the chamber, were separated by sliding doors that rose all the way to the ceiling. A faint orange glow came from the furthest chamber housing the AdMech's kilns, over one-hundred yards away. Just commercial machinery then? There's not a tank or a track in sight.

Bulging, tubular ovens with stacks reaching to the ceiling took up most of kiln room's far wall.A helmeted figure in a boilersuit and thick mitts slid a small, lidded box inside an open oven. Off to one side, shelves held trays of moulded pipes. Oh, you darling. I put my shoulder to the kiln room's open door and crossed my ankles. Lusia shut the oven door then tapped keys and twisted a dial beside it.

Lusia dragged thick goggles down from her shiny cheeks and rubbed a knuckle in her eye. "Some hiding place I thought of." She came around a wide, stone table and approached me. Her goggles bounced around her neck.

"Novel—WHOA!" I flung my arms at the steel rim on Lusia's helmet.

"Oh, Omnissiah, I'm so sorry!" Lusia pulled her helmet off and dropped it on the table. The rounded dome grated on the stone. "I'm so sorry." Our arms wound around each other's shoulders. "It's been a long day," Lusia murmured. "I'm so glad they didn't find you."

"Had me worried for a moment." I ran my hand up and down Lusia's back. "Thought Lusia had let me down."

"You had the suit." Lusia let go and perched up on the table's edge. "You had the suit, but there…"

"…Wasn't quite enough air to climb back down, was there?" I perched beside Lusia. "That was a nasty surprise, telling me my oxygen was at twenty per cent." I grinned. "Cheeky sod."

"You jumped…" The corners of Lusia's eyes wrinkled. "Fucking fool—you jumped!" She cuffed my shoulder. "Crazy bastard! Those suits aren't meant to sustain any damage—they're lightweight maintenance rigs!"

"Hit me, swear at me, get it out your system. I'm alive, I'm here and not floating out there." I laid my arm on Lusia's shoulders. "Your Magos made a right royal song and dance at the muscleheads. Bought me the time I needed to jump. You and the AdMech have done nothing but give to me."

"The poem." Lusia laid her fingertips on my breast.

"Ahh, that's some rubbish I thought of in a moment. Now you're working overtime for me here, aren't you?"

"Mmm…" Lusia flushed. Her fingers slid down my chest.

"Is it a present?"

Twitches in Lusia's lips broke in to a grin. "Hee-hee-hee!" Her bobbing chin touched her breast. "You weren't supposed to know."

My shoulder bumped Lusia's. I leaned in and laid my lips on hers. Lusia's hand flew to my cheek and cupped it. She rocked backwards. Warm air surged over my mouth. Our jaws worked up and down. Lusia pushed back and snaked an arm around my neck. "You're shivering."

"I've been so alone these past years. Nobody to talk with." My nose ran across Lusia's neck and up to her ear. "No-one ever talks about themselves in the underhive. They run with the pack, everyone acting in unison, eating, stealing, killing without a thought to consequence. If you drop your guard, if you cry, if you wonder why, you are weak."

Ridges crossed between Lusia's furrowed brows. Big, brown eyes hit me squarely. "No."

"No? It's a fighting pit down there, Lusia. I need someone to help me figure it out. I cannot come to terms with it. There's no hope of justifying anything I did for the Roaneks. I'm lost."

Pink flared in Lusia's cheeks. "You're not lost, James. We found each other for a reason. Good friends better one another by talking about their worries, by pulling one another out of their pits with patience and care. The Roaneks cannot influence you anymore. You are a free man—you helped pull Dio out of that pit too. You made him a free man. You won't see another young spark go out. I promise."

"Sometimes, I feel like the whole Imperium is against me—"

"No!" Lusia took my chin and slid her fingers down my bruised cheek. "Your freedom lies outside UEC. I can help you. I can help you find that freedom you crave, James."

My lips squidged against Lusia's. Fingers travelled down Lusia's neck to her suit's zip and drew it to her stomach. My hand slid inside and peeled her tank top's strap down and caressed her bare shoulder. Lusia's hand roved over my thigh.

Beep-beep, beep-beep. A red bulb rotated above the kiln. "Mmm—" Lusia wrenched her mouth away from mine. "That's it." She hopped down, zipped up her suit, and rushed to the kiln with helmet and goggles. I got off the table and rubbed my numb buttocks.

"Five minutes?"

"Twenty." Lusia swiped thick mitts from a hook and retrieved the box from the oven. "Just gotta let this cool first." She bumped the oven door shut and set the box on the table. I sat back on the edge and linked my fingers around my knee.

"I remember when you used to be a real pirate. You had guns on the table, drones in the sky. Now, we're making pipes and building tractors."

Lusia's mitts hit the floor with her goggles. Her helmet clanged. "Now, I have James on the table." Lusia unzipped her boilersuit and dragged her arms free from the sleeves. Prying her hairband out, she bumped my knees aside and bowled me backwards.

A circular sawblade screeched, the noise tearing through the factory. Beneath a wide tractor chassis, Lusia and I lay atop one another. Loose clothing spread under Lusia's body. Pieces of triangular, flexible glass covering interfaces glinted on Lusia's neck, her forearms, legs, and stomach. Propped up on my arms, I swooped down and laid a kiss on her neck. "Okay?"

Lusia's lips nipped my ear. "Okay." I spread my knees and reached between Lusia's legs. "Ow." Lusia's lips made a tiny O. "Ow, ow, ow." Her shoulders tensed. Claws dug in my chest and pushed. "OW!" Lusia's puckered lips stretched. Deep lines cut through her forehead.

I slumped next to Lusia and snaked my arm around her waist. "Let's leave it there."

Lusia lifted her arm and gripped the back of my head. "Again."

"Again?"

"Let's try." Lusia craned her neck and caught my mouth.

Deep pink filled Lusia's cheeks. Eyebrows steepled. Her locked teeth ground together. Her abdominal muscles clenched. "Stop!" Shaking hands heaved at my chest. "I c—I can't! STOP!"

"Okay, Lusia, okay." I backed out from beneath the tractor with my trousers and shoes and hurried over to the sawblade. Silence returned to the factory floor. Gentle sobs reached my ears. Curled up on her side, Lusia pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. "There." I laid kisses on Lusia's arm, her shoulder, and on her nape. "Fiery… clever…" I nuzzled her hair. "…Brave… witty…" My chest touched Lusia's damp back. Arms circled her belly and shoulders. "Shining star."

Lusia rolled over. Wild hairs clung to thick, sticky tracts on her cheeks. Mucus stuck to her upper lip. "I'm not—I'm not right. I can't do it…"

"Hey." I dabbed at Lusia's cheeks and curled her hair over her ears. "Tell me, pirate, how did the pipe come to be?"

"Errr…" Mucus snorted in Lusia's clogged nostrils. "We—we fire the pipe in a—in a saggar—a special box. Once that's fired, we dip the tip in a g—a glaze, a red-lead glaze and fire it. The metal cools so your lips don't stick to the—the pipe." Lusia's mouth opened and she gulped in air.

"In all my twenty-eight years, I've never known a more dedicated craftsperson. I think another poem is in order." I kissed Lusia's forehead. Eyes tight shut, Lusia buried her face in my breast. I played my fingers up Lusia's nape. Rapid thumps struck my chest.


Mobile Processing Platform HX-119

Crewman packed the edges of the processor's aft hold and flocked in droves around the limp xenos dangling upside down from a loading crane's winch. Ray Obla stood in the front row of the crowd closest to the unconscious xenos and the foldout table Chief Kova hunched over. "Chief, let's get this going!"

"Yeah, gimme a few." Cables protruded from a vox unit sitting on the table. "Thought you'd be the one to do the honours, seeing as you pulled it outta the crusher."

"You shoulda let it get pulped," a crewman to Obla's right said.

"That's a sure as shit way to mix xenos with human remains, boy," Kova fired back. "We like our slab clean."

"It'd be impure," Obla said. "Human and xenos cannot mix, even post-death."

"Ready." Kova smirked at Obla.

"OKAY!" Obla stuck two fingers in his mouth and sent a shriek up to the ceiling. The chatter fell away and all eyes turned to the xenos. "Listen up! Listen up, everyone!" Obla moved in to the open and raised his hands. "Chief Kova will now demonstrate the extracurricular use of the Klansman 349 set. Over to you, Chief!"

"Thank you, sir." The crank in Chief Kova's hand whirred. "Now, you're all familiar with the old 349 short-range transceivers. You've all used 'em. You know everything about them; except this. I am here to show you what the manual does not tell you. In the presence of captured enemy personnel, you take these clamps…" Kova unclamped two cables, one marked with a black heat shrink and the other red, and held them aloft. "And stick 'em on their xenos balls. Can't for the life of me find a pair on this one though." Laughter erupted. Kova brought the two clamps together. Bright sparks snapped between the two, forcing them apart. "This leads me to the slant-ear in our company today—killer of Martyn Balzer, Ky Albo, Daniel Eltaman, and Vivek Dolovo!"

"Killer!"

"Murderer!"

"Take the ears first!"

"See its slant-eared eyes put out!"

"Ask it nothing!" A crewman close to Obla shouted.

"Hah! You want me to ask it nothing?" Kova worked the 349's crank. "Boy, there's not a damn thing in this universe I can think to ask it." Kova's lip curled. "Wouldn't have it any other way, would we, boys?"

"NEVER!" Voices boomed around the hold.

"Make your circuit, Chief." Obla nodded.

Kova brought the clamps over to the xenos. "Contact!" He slammed them together inches from the xenos's face. The xenos's eyes snapped open. A muffled shriek escaped the gag bundled in its mouth. Applause broke out.

"It's okay, little girl, we don't bite." Kova carried the clamps back to the set and wound the crank. "We operate a strict hands-off policy in the workplace."

"Ha-ha." Obla's eyes ran around the hooked spectators.

"Contact!" Kova jabbed the clamps in to the xenos's stomach. Howls disappeared in to the sodden rag. Tears crawled up the xenos's lined forehead and in to its scalp. It rocked its body away from the smoking clamps. "Ha! Where d'you think you're going?" Kova wrenched the wet shirtsleeve from the xenos's mouth.

"SHOCKSHOCKSHOCKSHOCKSHOCK!" Fists pumped the air.

"Now for something special." Kova worked the crank. "Let's give you one from the boys." He bore the clamps to the xenos and aimed them at her chest. "CON-TACT!" Kova thrust the clamps at the xenos. The metal teeth bit in to the stained cloth. "What the fuck—?" Silence fell over the hold.

Captain Daniel Kerveguen's hand came away from the 349's master power switch. "Thank you for the demonstration, Chief." Kerveguen wandered past the xenos and faced the crew. "There has been much upheaval aboard this processor, these past twenty-four hours." Kerveguen's spectacles rose to the crew around the edges of the hold. "Many outbreaks, many incidents. It is the captain's pleasure to congratulate you all for such exemplary conduct in containing the prisoner outbreaks. I have been speaking with the company and we have reached an agreement that every crewmember aboard this processor will receive a one-time payment of two-hundred imperial thrones at the end of the month, along with an extra seventy-two hours shore leave when we reach Quintus Decimo Station and deliver our cargo. That's all. Thank you."

"Three cheers for—"

"HIP-HIP—"

"HOORAAY!"

Amidst the cheering and pats on the back, Kerveguen caught Obla and Kova. "Chief, get that thing out of here. Move the xenos to the infirmary. Tight security." The crowd swallowed Kova up before he could reply. Kerveguen said nothing to Obla on the way out of the hold. Only in the turbolift up to the bridge did he open his mouth. "Ray."

"Two-hundred thrones, Skipper? Extra leave? Never in a million years would—"

Kerveguen stabbed the manual stop button. "You think I would waltz in to the middle of your lynch mob with blubber and bluster alone?" Kerveguen whipped his spectacles off. "Rafe Kova is relieved of command of the security detail and you are confined to quarters absent pay. Come QDS, you are ashore half-pay. I will not have the head of a lynch mob and a torturer aboard my processor." Kerveguen halted the lift on the next floor. Obla, head hung, jaw lax, shuffled out of the lift.

The next morning cycle, Kerveguen entered the processor's infirmary. All of the security detail, minus Kova, stood in the corridors and outside the room the xenos occupied. Each man carried a riot gun and wore ammunition bandoliers over their body armour. Kerveguen knocked on a partition just down from the xenos's room. "Warren?"

"Morning, Skipper." Warren Gulec, the processor's sole medical officer, rose from his office chair.

"How's our newest patient?"

"We had her on oxygen last night for the smoke inhalation. She slept through the sedatives. Err, we're pumping vitamins in to her system currently. I mean, physically there's nothing wrong with her. She's missing a few fingers and toes. Those aren't fresh wounds though. Something she picked up—or lost I should say—in the past."

"Any activity? Anything spoken?"

"Nothing yet, Skipper."

"Then, what's the problem?"

"I have no idea whether our drugs are having any effect on her." Gulec spread his arms in a shrug. "I've never had a xenos in my care before. Though to look at her without scrutiny would invite a mistaken identity, I dare say."

"Thanks, Warren. I'll stick my head in." Kerveguen beckoned a guard to accompany him in.

Clean sheets covered the pale-skinned xenos up to her chin. Transparent tubing attached to needles protruded from slender arms. This is the thing that killed Dolovo, Eltaman, Balzer, and Ky? Kerveguen carried a chair over to the bed and sat down. That Ogryn too. A 120-pound woman. Is she really a xenos? Kerveguen brought out a small lense cloth and wiped his specs. Give a man pause for thought, that face.

Eyes watched him through cracks. "Can you understand me?" Kerveguen tried again, slower. "Can you. Understand me?" The xenos's lips parted. A faint rasp surfaced. "Yes, you can, can't you?" Kerveguen moved to the edge of his chair.

"Sir." The guard approached the bed. His riot gun's stock rested against his shoulder

"She's trying to speak." Kerveguen spread his knees and leaned forward. "Tell me, what do you need? What do you want from us?"

"…Et… Ames Arn."

"Say again."

"Get. James. Larn." The xenos's eyelids lowered and her chest sagged.

James Larn? Kerveguen took his specs off and pinched his nasal bridge. Who in the damned Imperium is James Larn? What could a xenos possibly want with him?