“Look, we already laid in the coordinates for Levisia station, so why don’t we just see this through?” Odybrix asked.

“I’m not saying we don’t,” Adam said. “My concerns mainly lie with big monsters that rip people in half and shrug off bullets.”

“Agreed! We require more firepower!” BOB said. “Perhaps we could use the preliminary funds to buy a rocket launcher? I could equip it to my chassis!”

“I think that might be a bit big for you, BOB,” Buddy said. “I’m pretty worried about the monster thing too. I wouldn’t want it to get its claws on any of you.”

“Us? You were the one dancing with it,” Odybrix said. “So we’re weighing scary monsters against one-hundred thousand credits.”

There was a moment of silent contemplation before Buddy spoke again, “You could get that B&F espresso machine you were talking about, Hoxley.”

“Oh yeah, that would be nice to have.”

“Excuse me!” BOB said, indignation bleeding into his consistent exuberance. “Coffee is my designated task! Have you been suggesting alternative caffeine solutions behind my back?”

“No, no. Well, yes,” Hoxley said. “I made an offhand remark about wanting something with a little more flavour.”

“Oh boy,” Odybrix said.

“How dare you! The coffee I produce is specially formulated to balance flavour, temperature, and caffeine! It is made with premium Starlux grounds!”

“Those are synthetic beans,” Hoxley said.

“I am synthetic!”

Hoxley looked like he had dug a hole he couldn’t get out of but decided to keep digging anyway. “Look, I was just remembering the coffee I used to make. Real beans, freshly ground, flavours accentuated with a pour-over. Coffee can be more than an uninspired vessel for caffeine. You can do a lot of things with a good machine.”

“A good machine?! Am I a bad machine?”

“No, no, I didn’t me-“

“Your position in my personal rankings of the crew has greatly diminished!” BOB said, stomping off.

“Ugh.”

“BOB has personal rankings for us?” Adam asked.

“I’m probably at the top,” Odybrix said, sipping her coffee. Hope you like oil in your coffee, Hox. That’s how you’ll be getting it for a while.”

Zenith had been standing at the door to the ops station, watching the drama unfold at the dining table in the cargo bay. She hadn’t said a word to anyone but Ozzy since she had been back; the events aboard the ship still rattled her. She didn’t like getting into her past, but the crew needed to know what she did.

“I’m going to the station,” she said. “That guy in the mech was my brother, Harlow. I have no idea how he’s tangled up in this, but I need to find out.”

“Your brother is a mercenary?” Adam asked.

“No. Materia Military Pilot. As straight edge as they come. Which is why this makes no sense.”

“Maybe he’s undercover?”

“He’s a terrible liar. They would never choose him for something like that. I need to find out what he’s gotten himself into, so I’m going to the station, even if I have to leave the ship.”

“I want to go too,” Hoxley said. “Different reasons, but I’m with you.”

“Yea,” Odybrix said, “If this is a family thing, then we’ve got your back.”

“Me too,” Adam said. “I guess I’ll find a bigger gun. You know, in case we run into any more of those things while chasing Vaelor. Maybe a rocket launcher isn’t a bad idea.”

“Thanks. Glad to hear it guys,” Zenith said. “We have anything else to discuss, or should we all try and get some sleep?”

“I have a question,” Sturdy said from a dark corner of the cargo hold with his arms folded. “Not that I have any say here-“

“You don’t,” Odybrix said.

“What happens if your brother opens fire on us?”

“He won’t. Not when he sees me.”

“You sound pretty confident about that,” Sturdy said, raising an eyebrow.

“You let me worry about it.”

“Last question. Do you ever take that helmet off?”

“If you saw my face, I’d have to kill you,” Zenith said, walking out of the room.

“Was she serious?” Sturdy asked.

“Dunno,” Odybrix said. “I’ve seen her face and she hasn’t killed me. Maybe the countdown is on, or maybe she just doesn’t like you.”


~*~


His eyes opened to an unfamiliar sight. He always knew when he was dreaming, even when the experience was especially vivid. The dreams always followed a twisted thread: blood, writhing masses, panic, pain, and death. The flavours could change, but the ingredients were the same. This was different.

An expansive marble hall stretched out before him. Great pillars stood on both sides of the space, bearing a crumbling ceiling. Fissures in the stone ran from the entryway to the end of the hall, growing from tiny cracks to gaping holes in the stonework. Further in, the floor had broken and risen upward, creating a series of platforms that acted like steps. The structure ended with a dais bearing an altar, but that may have been the least interesting feature of the place.

The wall opposite Hoxley had been torn away. Fragments of stone spilled into a starry expanse, drifting toward an intense radiant light. He couldn’t make out what caused the light from his vantage point and wasn’t sure that he wanted to know. He turned to leave and something in the shadows caught his eye.

Hiding in the gloom cast by a pillar—no, all of the pillars—were bodies. They hung with dangling legs and arms outstretched, as if waiting for an embrace. Their faces—where were their faces? Hoxley blinked, trying to focus, then realized there was nothing there. Each head had been hollowed out from crown to jaw and replaced with an inky blackness. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he came to realize that nothing held the bodies in place. They simply floated.

This is new. Maybe I should look around.

He climbed the shattered steps, drawn by the light and the protection it held over the darkness. From somewhere behind came a low, undulating click that sent a spike of terror through his heart. He clambered up the stones towards the light, not looking back as the sound grew. The source of the light became clear as he lifted himself onto the dais.

A burning ring of cosmic fire spun around the abyssal sphere of a black hole. Bits of debris from the building stretched out towards the phenomenon, pulled by its irresistible mass.
Bathed in the light of the accretion disk, Hoxley realized there was no escape. He looked back to the archway he had come from and saw a lithe, horrible form—the same one he had encountered aboard the barquentine. It took a slow, menacing step in his direction.

Panicked, he looked around for anything that could help. On the altar beside him he saw something grotesquely familiar. A stone basin rested on the surface, filled with red, writhing gore. Beside it, a bloody pattern twisted and swirled in his vision. He swiped his hand across it, smearing the blood across the altar in the hope it would somehow end the nightmare. The pattern stopped moving, but the creature still advanced.

He looked to the light and considered jumping out into space, but the thought was somehow more terrifying than what was behind him. He would have to fight. Fire flickered on his fingertips as he resolved to confront the creature. When he turned back to face it, something punctured his abdomen and burst out of his back. The flame in his hand died as he lifted his head to regard the monstrosity that would kill him.

The creature’s smooth, bulbous head tilted, as if curious about something. A horizontal line formed across its face, splitting open to the sound of clicking coming from somewhere inside. Rows of glistening teeth revealed themselves as it leaned into Hoxley. He closed his eyes, anticipating that the teeth would close around his head, but the violence didn’t come. The creature gently touched its head to his and held it there. The gesture almost felt affectionate.

Lightning bolts of pain shot through him as the creature slowly lifted him with the claw sticking through his guts. It walked him to the edge of the platform and extended its arm. Gravity pulled him from the blood-slicked claws into the starry expanse. He grabbed at the creature, desperately trying to stop himself from being pulled in, but it stepped away.

He tried to look at what was behind him, but found himself paralyzed. An abyssal force locked him in place as it drew him in. He felt the pull at his toes, then his legs, then everywhere. The black hole began the merciless work of tearing him apart, stripping him atom by atom. He felt his bones shatter, his tendons stretch and snap, his nerves burn and disintegrate. His annihilation and anguish spanned eons, all of which he was conscious for. At some point during his agony, he realized the bodies in the hall had turned to face him. Empty faces watched his demise for all eternity. Then he heard someone from behind him speak.

“Boy, this looks like a bad one, Hox.”

Hoxley woke, fingers wet from where Beast had been licking them. “Xavier?”

“Yes. Sorry for the intrusion. I overheard your new buddy whimpering,” The AI explained. “Are you alright? I can call Jim.”

“I’ll be fine,” Hoxley said, picking Beast up onto the bed with him. “Just a bad dream.”



~*~


Buddy was still feeling a little queasy, but was satisfied knowing the RAD pills had begun purging the radiation from her body. In a few hours, she could stop spending so much time in the washroom dealing with her own purging. She turned the tap on, splashed her face with cold water, and looked in the mirror. The dark rings under her eyes were the only indication of the toll of the day. She looked far less haggard than her friends. Well, maybe discounting BOB and Jim because they were robots, oh, and Zenith because she was always wearing her helmet.

Should she look worse off? There was very little frame of reference for what was considered a bad day. In her limited experience, getting shot at, being attacked by monsters, and getting hurled into space seemed pretty normal. Maybe it was the monster part that put everyone on edge. It was kinda spooky.

She splashed her face once more, then turned to grab a towel and noticed something out of the corner of her eye—her reflection didn’t move. She tilted her head and the image remained locked. She raised a hand, then winked, then stuck out her tongue. The reflection didn’t move.

Huh. Pretty sure mirrors aren’t supposed to do this.

The woman in the mirror smiled at her. Only, it wasn’t a nice smile. There was something upsetting about the way she looked at Buddy, like she knew something bad and was eager to share. Her lips moved, soundlessly speaking something Buddy couldn’t make out. She wasn’t sure she wanted the message the mirror woman was trying to give, but she found herself leaning in. The silent phrase repeated and the doppelganger looked at Buddy expectantly.

“I, I don’t understand. Maybe you could write it out? Who are you?”

The other her gave a pitying look, then stepped back and raised an arm at Buddy—she was holding a gun. Buddy jolted back and tried to flee, but the washroom door wouldn’t budge. She ducked down as the gun swept towards her and hopped onto the toilet, trying to find a space where her reflection couldn’t see her. It was no good, there was no place in the small room that the other her couldn’t see. She watched as her reflection took aim at her chest, repeated the silent phrase, and pulled the trigger.

The crack of the gunshot was deafening in the enclosed space. Buddy held a hand to her ear, then to her chest—no blood, no pain. A fractured reflection stared back at her in the mirror, fear and confusion on its face. She looked down at her other hand and saw that she was holding the gun. She gingerly placed it on the tank of the toilet and stepped down.

I’m going to have to ask Jim about the side effects of RAD pills.


~*~


Stress was a straightforward concept for Adam. You felt it, responded accordingly to whatever caused it, then exercised until the feeling went away. His mom had explained the chemistry of it to him early on. Nothing vented cortisol like a few hundred push-ups. It worked every time.

So when he got up from the floor, he was surprised to find his thoughts still drifting to what happened aboard the barq. He had seen gruesome scenes before; his line of work was intermittently bloody. There had even been a few run-ins with things that could be considered monsters. What was it about the barq that was sticking with him?

Maybe it was a bit of everything. He disobeyed an order from his mother, left Remington R&D, and signed on with individuals he would have once considered unsavory. Those things tugged at the back of his mind periodically, but they didn’t leave him feeling like he felt now. After all, it would be worth it once he confronted his father.

Great, now I’m stressed and sweaty.

He reached for a towel to wipe his brow and was interrupted by a soft clicking sound. A quick scan of the room didn’t reveal anything out of the ordinary. He jumped back down into a plank position and checked under the beds—nothing. He shone a light from his PDA into the room’s air vent—nothing. The clicking persisted, rhythmic and slow.

“Um, Ozzy?”

The AI popped up on the vidscreen in his room taking its usual appearance, a gruff middle-aged man with a goatee, and a translucent blue body. “Yeah, Adam?”

“Is there anything wrong with the starboard cabin? Like with ventilation maybe?”

“All readouts are normal. Is something wrong?”

“I keep hearing this clicking, or maybe it’s snapping.”

“Well, if it’s not mechanical, maybe it’s physical. You did get a little banged up back there. Maybe you should check in with Jim.”

Adam didn’t feel injured, but he had been sucked into space and bludgeoned by a speeding halfling, so perhaps there was some merit to the suggestion. He’d know for sure if the sound persisted outside the room. “Good idea. I’ll see him after a shower.”

Ozzy disappeared and Adam grabbed a towel from his locker. He stopped at the door, listening as the snapping sound intensified. He turned and looked over the room once more—still nothing. The sound grew and something itched at his leg. He reached down to scratch his calf, eyes still scanning the room, then heard a sharp snap. The sound stopped.

He ran his fingers down the length of his itching leg and felt an irregular lump through his pants. Two soft ridges rose from the muscle, spanning a few inches. Strangely, there was no feeling in the mass as he touched it. The sensation was so bizarre that he felt a morbid need to explore it. He pressed his fingers firmly into the mass and was shocked when the two ridges parted. Something hard was inside the mass—no, it was multiple things. There were grooves in the rigid surface. A chilling thought entered his head. Teeth?

He pulled up his pant leg revealing smooth, bare skin and nothing else. Not satisfied, he took off his pants and inspected his reflection in the mirror. There was nothing there. Unsettled, he decided that the shower could wait until after he saw Jim.

Before he had a chance to get dressed, he heard a gunshot.


~*~


Odybrix sat alone at the old wooden table with her head comfortably tucked in the crook of her arm. Well, alone if you didn’t count the expensive bottle of whiskey they rescued from the ship. She did. After all, she had had far less reliable companions in the past. The bottle always did what it was meant to do and never judged her. Talking to someone else about how fucking horrified she was about what happened aboard the barq was out of the question.

Jim emerged with a hydraulic exhalation from the door of the medical suite and walked over to her with an orange pill bottle saying, “The contents of the medical box included several rounds of RAD treatment.”

Odybrix raised her arm and gave him a thumbs up.

“You’ll need to take one of these each day for the next week. There should be enough for each crew member,” Jim said, pausing to look at the half-empty bottle of whiskey. “Part of my directive as the Sunrunner’s doctor is the mental wellbeing of the crew. If you have anything you wish to discuss or disclose that is causing distress, please know you can do so with me in confidence.”

“Yep, ‘preciate it, doc. I’m good.”

“It is recommended that one avoid alcohol when suffering radiation poisoning,” Jim said, placing the bottle on the table.

“Recommended is a great way of saying ‘not required,’” Odybrix said, popping the bottle open with her thumb.

Jim lingered a moment more, probably deciding whether or not he should push her, then walked back to medical. Pushing her was a bad idea. She was sure Jim had gathered that from their previous interactions. Got my therapist right here. She took a swig of her drink and downed a pill.

Her head slumped against the table, resting on her arms. The cup and its precious contents blurred as her eyes grew heavy. When she opened them again, she was somewhere else.

She hung in the shadow of a great marble pillar with her arms outstretched. No restraints held her in place, yet she was unable to move. Light poured in from an unseen source, illuminating a shattered hall whose broken steps ascended to it. She saw a patch of starry sky around the pillar and…

“Hoxley?”

He ascended the steps to an alter that sat at the top and looked back with fear in his face. Odybrix suppressed a shudder when she saw the creature from the barq enter the hall and stalk up the steps. Odybrix saw Hoxley turn and walk out of her field of vision towards the stars; he returned a moment later. He’s got nowhere to run.

She strained against the phantom force that held her in place as the creature drew closer to him. She couldn’t move. Hoxley’s hand began to glow and flames danced at his fingertips as he backpedaled out of sight. The creature vanished behind the pillar a moment later. Fuck!

Odybrix flexed her muscles until they ached, but she couldn’t get free. There was a sharp exhalation from behind the pillar followed by a pained groan, then silence. She struggled wildly to break free, then, in a moment of fear and anger, reached for her psionics. The power was there, but it felt different. The psychic energy danced through her body as if it were alive. In a brief, powerful burst of pink light, she destroyed the invisible restraints.

She raced around the corner and saw the creature standing in front of Hoxley. His body levitated, stretched and deformed in a celestial expanse. Behind him, haloed by a burning ring of stars, was a black hole. Rage flaring, she launched herself up the broken slabs of the hall and sent a wave of psionic force into the monstrosity. It turned just in time to see her before it was blasted into space. I’ll kill you as many times as it takes.

“Hoxley!” She shouted, running up to the edge of the altar.

The infernum was frozen in place with a look of abject terror on his face. She tried calling to him again but received no response. She tried pulling him back with her psionics, but even with her vibrant new power she couldn’t free him from his torment. She let out a string of expletives, screamed, and collapsed into a sitting position.

“What the hell is going on?”

She looked out into the sea of stars for an answer and found none. The adrenaline faded from her body and was replaced by profound exhaustion. As her eyes grew heavy and her vision blurred, she noticed something. Something shifted inside the darkness surrounded by the radiant ring of the acretion disk. She tried and failed to discern its shape, then reached for her psionics to sharpen her senses—there would be few decisions in her life she regretted more.

Her breath caught and her body trembled as she peered into the void. Something was inside. Something impossible and terrible. A single, timeless eye wrested its gaze from the breadth of infinity to stare at a grain of sand, and its scrutiny was oblivion.

Bang!

Odybrix jolted awake, knocking her cup and its contents onto the floor.


~*~


“I know you’re all feeling a little stressed,” Xavier said, taking the form of an animated toy robot on the cargo bay’s vidscreen, “so I’m going to lighten the mood with a joke.”

“Oh gods,” Odybrix said.

“Not this again,” Zenith echoed. “Isn’t it enough that Adam is standing here without pants?”

“I was in the middle of something,” Adam said defensively.

“I am allowed one of these every day, as per our agreement after the incident,” Xavier said.

“What incident?” Buddy asked.

“He was infected with a virus!” BOB explained. “He downloaded three terabytes worth of jokes and could not stop until he told them all!”

“I have learned my lesson,” Xavier said. “Now, what do you call a nose with no body? Nobody knows!”

The crew released a collective groan and Jim decided it was time he stepped in. He called an immediate meeting after the incident in the washroom. The crew had returned to the Sunrunner with obvious signs of trauma and it was his duty to heal them, whether the damage was physical or mental. The problem, as it always seemed to be, was that Jim lacked the interpersonal skills needed to convey the importance of his message.

He entered from the cargo bay, noting the various markers for stress on the crew. Hoxley: sleep deprivation. Odybrix: alcoholism. Buddy: look of bewilderment in excess of the normal look of bewilderment. Adam: clenched jaw and not wearing any pants—the latter observation may have been extraneous to his mental condition. Jim tried raising his eyebrows in what would be considered an empathetic expression and addressed the crew.

“Thank you for joining me. I thought it prudent to gather you after the discharge of the pistol in the washroom. After a review of the recordings taken from the barquentine-class vessel, I have determined that several of you have experienced significant mental trauma. As your physician, I must advise that it is in your best interest to speak with someone regarding what happened and your feelings about it. I am trained in psychotherapy and I encourage you to set an appointment so that we may speak.”

Jim finished and waited for a response. The crew was silent and seemed to shrink away from the suggestion. Perhaps he should have discussed this with them individually. Odybrix cleared her throat.

“Thanks for looking out, doc. I’m good though. Been through worse scrapes.”

“There is significant benefit to discus-“

“Some shit happened. It was bad. We’re alive. That’s what matters. I don’t need to have a roundabout discussion about my feelings.”

“Be that as it may,” Jim said, feeling he had once again lost his grip on a conversation, “I am always willing to speak with you if you wish to talk about something.”

There was a murmur of appreciation from the crew and a quiet pledge by Buddy to set an appointment with him at some point. Feeling that was the best he would get from them, Jim retreated behind the door to the med bay. He heard the footsteps of the others as they departed the cargo bay and then Hoxley spoke.

“So you’re not afraid of monsters?”

“Big scary things? No, they’re pretty straightforward. People are the real monsters. Like corpos or people who eat salt and vinegar chips,” Odybrix said, then paused before asking, “Hey, do you ever have any weird dreams? Like, involving black holes?”

Another pause.

“You mean ones where your body is pulled apart over the span of countless milennia by a terrible unseen force and you’re conscious for the entire excruciating experience?”

“…Yeah?”

“No. Never.”

Jim heard another set of footsteps leaving, followed by the clink of a bottle touching a cup. He sat down at his workstation and entered a series of keystrokes. A kind-looking man appeared on the screen and began giving a warm speech. Jim softened his brow and smiled, copying each expression.

A scream echoed through the corridors, punctuated by the solitary report of a pistol. Odybrix was in the process of shoving BOB forward when she saw Buddy double back. Behind them, seemingly heedless of imminent dismemberment, Sturdy snapped pictures of the monstrosity with the PDA on his wrist. Buddy was beside him in a second, pulling him away.

“Get out of there, you idiots!” Odybrix yelled.

Sturdy spun and ran, with Buddy backpedaling behind him. The upper torso of the dwarf sailed through the intersection of the passageways and landed somewhere unseen with a wet thud. Odybrix barely registered the arm whipping out from around the corner in a blur of claws, but Buddy, miraculously, did. The monstrosity swung wildly, each swipe promising evisceration if it landed, but Buddy somehow dodged them all. Not only that, but she fought back.

A few strands of her ponytail were severed as she ducked a horizontal swing and rolled away, snapping off six shots from her laser pistols. Two blasts struck the thing’s head, leaving smoking holes. Odybrix released a breath she was holding, expecting the thing to slump to the ground. Instead, the flesh around the wounds convulsed and knit together, like it hadn’t even been shot. A wet seam opened in the middle of its featureless head, revealing rows of finger-length teeth. Odybrix gathered psionic energy to shove the thing away, but Adam acted first.

“Get down!”

Buddy somersaulted away from the creature as a grenade sailed overhead and detonated. The monstrosity screeched as a flash of bright orange flame consumed it. Odybrix didn’t wait to see if the grenade had solved their monster problem; she let loose the psionic blast and shunted its flaming bulk down the passageway. Adam fired a few perfunctory shots in the thing’s direction—an extra kick in the ass for good measure—and they ran.

“Change your mind about explosives inside ships?” Odybrix asked.

“No. This was a special circumstance. And mine wasn’t attached to a torpedo,” Adam said.

“Sure, sure. Talk to me when we’re back aboard, we can go over the finer points of setting off grenades in tight spaces.”

“I’m not making a habit of this.”

Ozzy came on their comms channel as they fled, “We’ve got a ship inbound.”

“Reinforcements?” Zenith asked.

“I don’t think so, ZT. It’s big. Bigger than a group of mercs could afford.”

“Darlings,” Hilde said, cheerfully joining the conversation, “I have great news. Scans indicate that the ship is frigate-class with a full weapons complement presently armed and targeting the barquentine.”

“We’re on the barq! How is that good news?” Odybrix asked.

“Because this ship is a celebrity!” Hilde said, sending an image of a massive vessel to their feed. “Note how the bow is shaped like a colossal blade? This is the HWS Warspite, flagship of planet Grolvar!”

“What did these guys do to piss off the orcs?” Odybrix asked.

“We need to get to rev space ASAP,” Adam said, fear creeping into his voice. “That ship is infamous.”

“Torpedoes incoming!” Ozzy said.

Odybrix turned the corner towards the airlock. She caught a glimpse of the dark outlines of Hoxley and the dog bathed in flood lights as they boarded the Sunrunner. How did that scrawny cook move so fast? The question didn’t have time to marinate in her mind.

A cataclysmic boom rocked the ship and sent the crew flying into the bulkheads. The pummeling shockwave was immediately followed by the irresistible pull of space—a torpedo had cracked the barq open like an egg. Odybrix’ arms flailed, grasping for anything that could keep her anchored. She managed to grasp onto a dead power conduit, channeling all of her psionic might to keep a grip. Something flashed in her periphery and she turned her head just in time to see Adam barrel into her, sending them both spinning into the void.

“They’re targeting us,” Ozzy said. “Taking evasive maneuvers. I need you all to group up behind the barq. Shit, the new guy’s suit is ruptured. He can’t maneuver.”

Odybrix saw it—a small form in the starlit distance with a trail of O2 spewing from a cut line. A perfunctory “Oh well” crossed her mind and she turned towards the others, stopping just before engaging the maneuvering thrusters. Buddy said she had a good feeling about this guy—a dubious endorsement from someone whose memory didn’t go farther back than the last time they stocked the ship. Odybrix looked at the crew gathering, then back at Sturdy struggling to clamp his line shut. Fuck.

Psionic implants were a wonderful way to melt someone’s brain or stop bullets from tearing through your own brain—that’s why she got the implants, to be sure—but there were other non-brain-wrecking benefits. Specifically, flying like a hawk through space. She sped off towards secret agent dumbass in a flash of pink light. The small human form grew quickly and she could see him trying and failing to connect the severed line. It wouldn’t work without something to seal it. Fortunately, she had access to psychic glue.

A small glow formed around the two pieces of the O2 line. Keeping a space for the air to move required fine psionic control, but she was good. She swooped behind him, grabbing him under the shoulders and rocketing towards the others like a halfling jetpack. This guy owed her a favour after this. Buddy too.

A halo of annihilation framed the barq as it shed chunks of hull into space. The crew took shelter behind the crumbling vessel and waited anxiously for salvation. The Sunrunner deftly avoided most of the distant Warspite’s fire, but when it slowed to retrieve the crew, a plasma cannon rocked its shields in a blinding collision of energy. If the shot were any closer, it would have torn their suits, and probably their flesh, apart.

“If you blow up my ship I’ll kill you, Ozzy!” Zenith shouted over the crackling comms.

“I’m doing my best, ZT. Airlock is open, get ready.”

As the Sunrunner drifted to a stop, Odybrix caught a glimpse of something.

“Get in!”

“I’ll be right back,” she said, planting her feet on Sturdy’s back and kicking him to the ship.

“What do you mean you’ll be back?” Zenith asked, “Did you forget to turn the oven off on the exploding ship? Get in here!”

“Start the rev engine. I’ll be quick.”

She raced off in a streak of pink light, certain she had seen it floating in the debris. If they listened to her, she’d have about sixty seconds before they jumped to rev space. Plenty of time. Ten seconds went by: scrap metal, wires. Twenty seconds: scrap metal, dead body, bed. Thirty seconds: scrap metal, toilet. Fuck, where is it? A red case with a white cross drifted out from behind a piece of bulkhead.

“Yes!” Odybrix said, swooping in and grabbing the medical chest.

She sped towards the Sunrunner, pushing with all of the force her psionics would allow. The barq was coming apart behind her and it wouldn’t be long before one of those blasts hit the rev engine and obliterated what remained. She saw the airlock. Adam was waiting inside with an outstretched hand. When he saw that she wasn’t slowing down, he spread both his arms and caught her as she shot inside, knocking them both into the wall.

“She’s in!” Adam said with a grunt.

“Rev jump in five, four…”

Odybrix gave herself a second to breathe, then looked back at the remains of the ship as the airlock closed. Remembering what was inside, she quickly keyed in a sequence on her PDA.

“Two, one.”

She tapped a button and watched as the explosive she planted detonated the torpedoes. A fraction of a second later, they jumped away.

The crew moved deeper into the ship, Adam and Sturdy at the front, Buddy at the rear. She would have preferred to be up at the front to see all of the excitement, but it was also nice to be helpful. She could keep an eye on Hoxley, who didn’t look as if he was enjoying the excursion and she could shoot anyone who snuck up on them; she was good at that.

Hoxley was nervously twitching his hand as they slinked through the passageway; Buddy swore she saw his fingertips glow. She had been meaning to ask him about his cool finger gun thing again. Every time she mentioned it, he got cagey and changed the subject to food or sleep routines. Those things were fine and all, but shooting fire from your hand was much more interesting. The group came to a halt and the light at Hoxley’s fingertips grew like a hot ember. 

“Take a look, everyone,” Adam said, sharing his video feed.

At the intersection in front of them, illuminated by the beam of Adam’s flashlight, sat a crumpled work-mech. Adam scanned the light upward slowly. Its plasma torch was lit, burning an intense blue. Its legs were broken at the knees and the cockpit had been torn open like a piece of paper. A corpse sat within the mech, clothes dark and glistening with blood. A deep gash ran down from collar bone to abdomen, terminating a trail of exposed intestines.

“Let’s just get to the bridge and get out of here,” Sturdy said.

“We need to make sure we don’t get ambushed,” Adam countered.

“If your intent is to clear all the rooms we pass, do you really think we’re going to be able to clear whatever did that to a mech? I think we need to get the data and extract.”

“A valid point!” BOB said. “Mechs are far more resilient machines than myself or Jim! Our deaths seem certain if we do not leave expediently!”

“I thought we were also going to raid this place for medicine,” Odybrix said. “Last I checked, we’re all still irradiated and on the verge of gut-wrenching bowel problems. Past the verge, in Buddy’s case.”

I feel much better now,” Buddy said.

“The symptoms will likely return with each meal,” Jim said. His microbots malfunctioned and flickered black momentarily, as if to underscore the ongoing problem.

“You won’t need the RAD meds if you’re dead,” Sturdy said.

“Wasn’t asking you, buddy,” Odybrix said.

“Me?” Buddy asked.

“No, him. Okay, whatever, I’ll go to medical. You all head to the bridge and get what we came for.”

“You’re not going alone…”

Buddy tuned out the voices of the others when she noticed Hoxley slip away and walk down a corridor to the right. He had that weird look he sometimes got, like he was listening to a song no one else could hear. She followed him because mysterious phantom songs sounded exciting, well that and he should have someone to make sure he didn’t get shot, slashed, or further irradiated. As if in response to the thought, nausea swept over her like a tide coming back in. Better listen to Dr. Jim and avoid any meals for now.

“Where the hells are you two going?” Odybrix asked, following them with the others in tow. “I guess we’re going to explore every inch of the ship before going to the bridge then. Maybe we can clean it up for the dead mercs before we leave. That would be nice of us. Anyone have a cleaning tip for scraping organs off bulkheads?”

Hoxley paused in front of a door. If what Odybrix had said earlier was true, this would be the crew quarters. He moved his head from side to side, then crouched down, probably examining the room with his heat-vision thingy. Satisfied, he stood up and tapped the access panel. Buddy quickly scooted behind him, keeping a hand on one of her pistols.

“Why are we here?” She asked.

“It’s in here,” Hoxley said evenly.

Buddy drew both pistols and heard the crew rapidly shuffling behind her, positioning themselves for combat. 

“Maybe you should let me or Adam go first,” Buddy suggested.

He ignored her and approached one of the beds, pulling out a storage box and absently sliding it away. There was nothing out of place in the room and it didn’t look like anything threatening could fit underneath the frame of the bed. Moreover, there was a comforting lack of blood decorating the room. Maybe there’s another spooky hole? 

Hoxley dropped to his knees and stared intently into the black space under the bed, the palms of his hands facing upward like a zealot before his idol. Seconds of motionless silence passed until a scratching came from the dark space beneath. The crew collectively took aim and Buddy stepped beside Hoxley to pull him away. She stowed a pistol and placed a hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t react. Then a shape sprung out of the cramped space in a blur and collided with him.

“Hey, hey, who’s a good boy?” Hoxley asked, cradling a shivering dog.

“Gods,” Adam said, letting his shoulders sag.

“That appears to be a standard border collie!” BOB said. “It poses a negligible threat, but I can shoot it if you feel unsafe!”

“No!” Buddy and Hoxley said in unison.

“He’s just a scared little guy,” Buddy said.

“We’re going to get you out of here,” Hoxley said, looking at the name on the dog’s collar, “Beast.”

“Great name,” Buddy said, bending to pet the creature and eliciting a warning growl. “Looks like someone needs his space.”

“Y’know, you could have mentioned there was ‘negligible threat’ under the bed before we prepared to blast a fucking hole through the bulkhead,” Odybrix began, then paused, looking into the box he had slid over. “Oh. Oh, excellent. Never mind, all is forgiven.”

Odybrix pulled two large bottles out of the box labeled “Grolvar 12 Year” and shoved them into her pack, saying, “A heads up would still be nice.”

“If he’s not afraid of something,” Zenith said, motioning to Hoxley, “then we’re probably fine.”

Adam quietly turned the room over while they talked, then took position outside the door. BOB gave a perfunctory beep to indicate that business here was concluded and shuffled out of the room with the others, leaving Buddy with Hoxley. The infernum got to his feet with a small groan and stepped outside, Beast padding behind. Buddy followed, earning an intense glare from the border collie. What did I do?

~*~

“You want the good news or the bad news?” Sturdy asked as they approached medical.

“What are you talking about?” Zenith asked.

She had been on edge since they boarded the ship, but the cargo hold had shaken her. Blood and guts were a workplace hazard, but the use of them for interior decorating went a step beyond what she was prepared for. Once that threshold of nerves and adrenaline was crossed, it got hard to stop the fear from bleeding into her voice. So she kept things clipped and professional; no one needed to know their pilot was losing it. Fortunately, finding a fluffy animal instead of a horrible monster seemed to vent some of the anxiety.

“There are survivors and they’ve locked themselves in the medical bay,” Sturdy said.

“Those things are both bad news,” Odybrix said. “Wait, how do you know they’re in there?”

“Thermal vision.”

“Does everyone have thermal vision except me? Why didn’t you say anything about the dog?”

“Didn’t seem like a concern to me.”

Odybrix threw her arms in the air and Zenith asked, “Hox, can you confirm?”

“Yea. It looks like they’ve barricaded themselves in.” 

“Guess that means we’re not getting any RAD pills,” Zenith said. 

Odybrix slowly banged her head against the wall.

“There’s one more,” Hoxley said. “On the floor in the mess, I think. He’s rocking back and forth with his arms around his knees.”

“Is that worth our time, Adam?” Zenith asked.

“Probably not, but Hox and Sturdy should keep an eye on them for as long as the thermal display allows. I don’t think they’re planning an ambush.”

“Let’s get to the bridge then. We’ve been here too long.”

At this point, the investigation of the ship had fallen into an annoying routine: walk down a dark corridor, enter an ominous room, see something surprising or deeply unsettling, move on. It was like a haunted house without the guy in a costume jumping out to scare you—not that Zenith had spent much time in and around houses after the blow up with her father. Maybe disaster was waiting on the bridge. Maybe she would find a reason to slip her twitching finger over the trigger of her rifle. Maybe they’d get what they came for and leave, like walking through the rough part of a station to go shopping.

Adam reached the end of the dark corridor, entered an ominous room, and saw something deeply unsettling. The bridge was cramped and foreboding on his video feed. Two empty ops chairs faced terminals on the sides of the room, and a third was deeper in, its back facing the crew. The screen in front of it displayed planet ZU4576B, its red and yellow mass rotating slowly. The beam of Adam’s flashlight caught a limp hand hanging off the side of the chair. On the ground below was a kinetic pistol. He approached slowly in a wide arc, revealing the pilot.

The hole in her head was expected—who could blame her? The surprise was her face. Two vacant sockets stared at the screen, blood staining each cheek like bad eyeliner. The thin line of her mouth curled downward at one side, as if in slight disapproval of what she watched. Her other hand rested next to an input panel on the arm of the chair. 

“One second,” Adam said, nudging her hand away with the barrel of his gun and tapping the panel. “It’s locked.”

“Allow me,” Sturdy said, unstrapping a box from his belt and placing it next to the input panel.

With a few quick taps, the image of ZU4576B was replaced by a record of recent logs and video.

“Open that last incoming transmission, it’s from a day ago,” Zenith said.

“Looks like text only, but… this is good. The mercs were hired by a guy named Vaelor. No details on what he was after, it’s just listed as a smash and grab.”

“So this Vaelor was piloting the super mech?” Adam asked.

Sturdy scanned through a few more logs, “Maybe. The log notes that the mercs were dealing with two people. There’s more. The pilot reported overhearing Vaelor and the other party discuss going to Levisia Station. That’s a lead I can work with.”

“A lead we can work with,” Odybrix corrected.

“Right, yes. We. I’m used to operating solo.”

“And thinking out loud, apparently.”

“What’s that video file?” Zenith asked.

The cargo bay appeared on the screen with none of the blood or destruction they had encountered. Zenith’s hand tightened around the grip of her rifle as the video played soundlessly. The bay door lifted and mercenaries trudged in, hauling one of the large incubation tubes they had seen inside the research facility. A tall figure stepped into frame. His face was concealed by a plain white mask and he wore a simple russet cloak. The super mech lumbered in afterward, taking position deeper inside the cargo hold. The robed figure turned to it and the mech’s canopy opened.

“Harlow,” Zenith whispered.

“Did you say something?” BOB asked.

Zenith said nothing and kept watching. The masked figure pointed to the tube and two mercenaries proceeded to pry its lid open with a crowbar. The body of a pale elf lay limply inside, his eyes and mouth locked open like he died of terror. The mysterious figure—this had to be Vaelor—approached the corpse and held a strange rod above his chest. The object seemed to swirl and twist in Zenith’s vision while never changing shape. Whenever she tried to focus on it, her eyes blurred and her head throbbed like she’d been flying for three shifts with no sleep. The effect ended when the masked figure plunged it into the dead elf’s heart.

The mercenaries closest to Vaelor stepped back and the others in the room looked at each other in confusion. Vaelor withdrew the object and walked back to Harlow. A second later, the naked elf spasmed, arching its back like it had touched a power conduit. The body convulsed, slamming itself so violently that its arm snapped against the side of the tube. Then its skin began to melt.

The next six minutes of video played in silence, without so much as a breath overheard from the observers. The mercenaries opened fire as the elf creature—now nine feet tall—lunged at them with astonishing speed. It ripped limbs from bodies like they were no more than petals on a flower. Bullets pounded into its shifting mass and only seemed to fuel its frenzy, likewise for plasma blasts. At the height of the carnage, Harlow raised the mech’s light plasma cannon at the monstrosity, only to be stopped by Vaelor who placed a gentle hand on the weapon, halting the intervention. Then they were gone.

Zenith blinked and thought there must have been a playback error, but the creature and the mercenaries—the ones yet to be horrifically murdered—still moved on the screen. Vaelor and her brother had simply vanished. Stealth tech? The way they disappeared lacked the fadeout effect common to Lendaren cloaking technology.

The flashes of gunfire stopped and the monstrosity began the grisly work they witnessed in the cargo hold earlier. It tore a hole through the floor and slowly dragged each corpse down into the dark. Then it set to the task of destroying every light in the room.

“I think we’ve seen enough,” Sturdy said, pausing the video. “I’m downloading everything from the last few days.”

“We need to get out of here,” Adam said. 

“I’m not sure we should pursue this job any further!” BOB said.

“No, we need to find them,” Zenith said.

“Yeah,” Hoxley echoed.

“We can discuss this on Sunrunner. Preferably with all of our limbs still attached,” Odybrix said, shoving Adam and Sturdy towards the corridor.

“Uh, guys,” Hoxley said, stopping, “I’m sharing my feed.”

Zenith’s finger slipped onto the trigger of her rifle as the hope of leaving the ship without incident evaporated. Hoxley’s thermal display popped up on the crew’s HUDs. He was looking through the wall where they had spotted the mercenary curled into a ball. The image got clearer as Hoxley moved forward. 

The orange and red figure had crawled under a table with its back to the wall and was visibly shaking. It twisted in a sharp motion to face the wall—no, to face away from something. A fearful whimper drifted through the ship and devolved into intense sobs. Zenith stared at the vid feed in bewilderment as the mercenary was pulled from its shelter by an unseen force and held struggling in the air. Then, in one brief, savage instant, they were torn in half, spraying hot bits of orange and yellow around the room. The outline of something lithe and horrible stood painted in the corpse’s blood.

“Go!” Adam shouted, urging them forward.

The crew rushed towards the exit with Buddy taking point. They didn’t get very far before colliding with a stout figure in grey combat armor. Buddy and Hoxley stumbled to the floor with an ashen-skinned dwarf. He clambered to his feet and drew a pistol, pointing it away from the crew and down the passageway. Wide eyes betrayed the camouflage of his shaggy eyebrows and braided beard as he stared wide-eyed into the darkness.

“Get back in here, Mordim! You’re going to get killed!” A voice cried out.

“We need to leave!” The dwarf yelled back, then turned to Zenith and pleaded, “Take me with you; I’ll do anything.”

“Uh, I just fly the ship, the decision’s not up to me. We’re kind of a small democra-“

The sound of gunfire cut off the sentence and illuminated the far end of the passageway in flickering light. A massive form—taller than any of them despite being crouched—appeared and disappeared in a fraction of a second. The gunfire quickly ended, modulating into a diminishing chorus of screams. Someone burst into view, revealed by the flashlight on Zenith’s rifle. He fired a wild shot into the dark, dropped his pistol, and sprinted towards the crew. An instant later, a black spike exploded out of his eye, locking his face in a mask of mutilated terror.

The body hit the floor and rolled, bringing the violence into focus at Zenith’s feet. The end of a glistening spike protruded from where it had exploded through the victim’s skull. It didn’t look like any weapon she had seen, except maybe the quill of a porcupine. The dwarf beside her let out a whimpering breath and she turned her gaze upward.

Something loomed at the far limit of the flashlight. Pale grey skin drew taut over a sleek and powerful torso. Its arms were rail thin, extending to a length that matched Adam in height and terminating in black needlepoint claws. Atop its body was a smooth, bulbous head with no eyes or mouth. A rolling click undulated from the monstrosity and it took a step forward.

“Nope,” Zenith said, kicking the dwarf at the creature and turning to flee with the crew in tow.

The airlock closed like a coffin lid, shutting out the floodlights of the Sunrunner and sealing them all in darkness. The pressure suits’ 360 lights clicked on and cast a tangle of shadows on the blood-painted walls of the enclosure. Beyond the inner doors of the airlock, there was oxygen and gravity. In fact, every normal spacecraft amenity was present except for light. 

When they decided to board the barquentine, Hoxley’s initial instinct was to volunteer to stay on the Sunrunner and keep an eye out in case the interceptor returned, or reorganize the medical supplies, or cook dinner, or clean the toilet—anything but leave the safety of the ship. Yet when Odybrix asked him if he was coming, he found the word “yes” escaping his mouth before he could object. Something important was inside that vessel. Whatever was stolen from the RC facility had something to do with his dreams and the strange gifts they bestowed. It was the first chance he had been given to learn more about the darkness that had haunted him for over a decade. He needed answers.

“Going in,” Adam said, tapping the access panel.

The doors slid open and Hoxley’s HUD registered breathable air. He kept the O2 on out of an abundance of caution. Speaking of which. The room came alive with a tap of his temple; the bodies of the crew blossomed orange and red as the thermal display of the HUD engaged. The enhanced sight let him see through most objects, but couldn’t delve deeper than a few walls, especially when it came to the steel walls of a spacecraft. Fortunately, no mercenaries or manifestations of his nightmares appeared nearby. 

“System access is locked,” Adam said, standing over a monitor. “We’ll need to proceed to the bridge if we want any information about who they’re working for.”

“Looks like a cut and paste barq,” Odybrix said, turning her head to look down either side of the narrow corridor. “No obvious changes to the layout of the ship except for that torpedo launcher. There’s storage on either side of us and the engine room is ahead.”

The thermal vision confirmed as much before Adam advanced into the room. The mass reversion engine was separated from two bulky thruster units sitting opposite each other. Adam gave the “all clear” and the rest of the crew crept into the room. Hoxley took position in front of Buddy, who had the rear—at the back, but not the back. Safest place to be, even if the room was empty. 

Only, it wasn’t. Hoxley’s HUD picked up the outline of a person crouched beside a thruster unit holding a pistol. The figure was hard to make out against the heat of the engine, but it was there. He toggled the thermals off and saw that nothing was there, then switched them on again. The figure was gone. As calmly as possible while having a panic attack, Hoxley swivelled his head to see the figure behind them, blending in with the heat of the rev-engine.

Hoxley slowly approached Adam and whispered, “There’s a guy.”

“What? What guy?”

“A guy. By the MRE. He’s invisible and he’s got a pistol.”

“How… nevermind. Buddy, move to the door we came from and get ready to shoot,” Adam whispered over the crew’s private channel. “Be casual.”

“Huh? Oh. Got it. Casual,” she whispered, moving to the exit while whistling loudly.

“He’s moving!” Hoxley yelled, jumping back and pointing a glowing finger toward the invisible interloper.

In a blink, Adam had spun and leveled his kinetic pistol in the direction Hoxley pointed. Buddy’s laser pistols were already drawn, but the confusion on her face seemed to ask, “What did the engine do to us?” Startled, the rest of the crew swept their guns around the room looking for hostiles, or, in Odybrix’ case, glowed aggressively pink.

“How does a mercenary afford personal cloaking?” Adam asked the empty space in front of the MRE.

Ten seconds passed. Twenty. Then a man appeared, invisibility dissolving off him in patches. The LED light of their suits revealed a grim-faced human with a mop of chestnut hair and a stubble-covered jaw. He was armored in something sleek, black, and definitively more expensive than the other mercenaries, though Hoxley’s limited mental catalogue of combat gear couldn’t give it a name. His eyes were locked with Adam’s, a pistol trained on his chest.

“Drop your weapons,” he growled, “I’ve got you surrounded.”

“You’re the only one here, idiot,” Odybrix said. “He is the only one here, right?”

“I don’t see anyone else with thermal vision,” Hoxley said, triple checking the room.

“Why do you have thermal vision on your HUD? You’re a cook,” Adam said, bewildered.

“So I can see if the food’s done in the oven from outside the kitchen,” Hoxley said, defensively. He left out how he also used it to check his room every night to make nothing was lurking there.

“Check again,” the gruff man said, tapping something on his wrist.

A moment later, a drone materialized in the gloom behind the crew. It had been hiding next to the thruster engine. Hoxley hadn’t picked it out because the mechanical form camouflaged itself better than that of a human. He made a note to check for that in future situations where he was boarding dark and foreboding ships that housed terrible corporate secrets.

“Last I checked, six is greater than two, guy,” Odybrix said.

“The math checks out!” BOB confirmed.

“That’s an aerial reconnaissance drone equipped with a G3 grenade launcher. Who’s the idiot now?”

“You, idiot,” Odybrix said. “You’re going to launch a grenade next to three engines? One of them housing a glob of antimatter that would convert all of us matter-creatures into vapor?”

“It appears we’re at an impasse,” the gruff man said.

“If by impasse you mean I’m going to punch you in the balls and this guy is going to shoot you in the head,” Odybrix said, nodding to Adam, “then yes.”

The man slowly moved his gun to point at Odybrix.

“Wait,” Buddy said, “maybe we can avoid punching, shooting, and being vaporized. You’re not one of them, are you? The mercenaries who stole the thing?”

“No.”

“So what are you doing here?” 

“That’s classified.”

“It sounds like he is a government agent!” BOB said.

“Agent dork,” Odybrix muttered.

“I have downloaded several terabytes of spy-themed media and can confirm he fits the profile of a secret government agent!”

“Well what are you all doing here? You look like a band of marauders,” the man said.

“We are here on legitimate business to retrieve something that was stolen,” Adam said, affronted at being labeled as a criminal.

The man’s posture shifted and relaxed slightly, “You’re here on behalf of Remington? Private contractors?”

“Maybe,” Adam said. “Yes.”

“I am too. Looks like they decided to throw as many mercenaries as possible at this mission.”

“Well that settles it,” Buddy said, smiling and stowing her pistols. “We’re on the same team.”

She approached the man, causing him to visibly stiffen with each encroaching step. Hoxley looked to the others and saw they had all tensed in preparation to fire if he took a shot. Buddy clapped him on the shoulder while he was still aiming at Odybrix and he returned the gesture with a look of bewilderment. After a moment, he lowered his gun.

“I’m Buddy. What’s your name?”

“Uh, you can call me Sturdy.”

“Nice fake name, pal,” Odybrix said.

“That’s a great name! You want to help us check out this spooky ship?” Buddy asked.

“We hardly know anything about him,” Odybrix protested, “and what about the payout? That was for us, not him.”

“I’ve got a good feeling about this guy. We can worry about the money later. It will work itself out.”

“Oookay…” Odybrix said.

“Alright,” Sturdy said, looking off balance, “I guess we can help each other.”

“He’s up front with Adam so I can keep an eye on him,” Odybrix said. 

Hoxley marveled at Buddy’s fearlessness in the face of a deadly situation. His first impulse was to hide behind something—BOB, in this case—and, if absolutely necessary, fight back. Oh crap, speaking of which. He quickly tucked his glowing finger away and let the power fade. The fewer people who knew about that, the better. 

“Next should be a corridor leading to an intersection,” Odybrix said as Adam proceeded to the door. “Crew quarters should be bottom-left, med-bay bottom right, mess top left, weapons top right. Cargo will come before the intersection, left side. Bridge will be straight ahead.”

“You have a mental catalogue of spacecraft blueprints?” BOB asked.

“I know a good number of layouts. Lets me know the best spot to leave a present,” Odybrix answered, then produced a metal cylinder with a haphazard arrangement of wires attached to it.

“I applaud your machine-like recall!”

Adam opened the door, revealing another blackened hallway, and he quietly moved in. Sturdy kept close, apparently heeding Odybrix’ warning. Hoxley couldn’t see past the people ahead of him, so his attention turned to their surroundings. The glow from his pressure suit passed over something on the wall and he stopped. 

“Hey guys,” he whispered, “look at this.”

A deep hole had been gouged into the bulkhead, as if someone had driven a finger-sized nail through it. Jagged remnants of a glass housing surrounded the hole, with mangled circuitry sticking out of it. Something had destroyed the light.

“There’s another one up here,” Adam said. “And another ahead.”

“Someone went around smashing every light on the ship?” Buddy asked.

“Something,” Hoxley said, looking back where they came from. Was it too late to return to the Sunrunner? 

Adam stopped in front of the cargo hold and Buddy asked, “Don’t we need to go straight?”

“It’s standard protocol for a boarding party to clear rooms as they proceed through a vessel. It prevents an ambush.”

“Oh, got it. In case someone’s alive.”

“Right. Sturdy, cover me,” Adam said, posting up beside the hatch.

The concerns of mercenaries ambushing them dwindled when the door slid open and Adam’s flashlight pierced the shadows of the room. Streaks of red were splattered on containers and walls. Pools of blood dotted the floor and smeared outward like a child’s attempt at drawing rain clouds. The trails curved and disappeared behind a large crate.

Hoxley watched anxiously from the passageway, bringing up Adam’s video feed on his HUD. The scene stirred images from his nightmares, only the walls weren’t undulating with the movement of inexplicable forms beneath the blood-painted veil and there was no dark portal threatening to pull him into oblivion. Then Adam peered around the crate. The streaks of blood stretched and disappeared into a hole that looked like a giant had slammed its first into the floor.

“That looks welcoming!” BOB said, causing Adam to jump.

“Can we keep things at a whisper, please? Especially around the creepy hole. I’m going to check it out,” Adam said, shining his light into the aperture. The glare on the video feed made it difficult to see. Whatever was inside was partially reflecting the light. 

“What do you see?” Hoxley asked in a whisper.

“Something I wish I hadn’t. To say it’s empty would be horribly inaccurate, but it doesn’t look like anything is going to pop out.”

“Do you see the bodies of the mercenaries?” Hoxley asked.

“I think so.”

The crew stepped into the cargo hold, sweeping the room with their flashlights to reveal any dangers that could still be lurking in the darkness—Odybrix very quickly took to looting. Hoxley walked towards the hole, cursing the terrible curiosity that propelled him, and looked inside. The reason it was hard to see was clear now: blood and viscera glistened inside. The space within made no sense. There should have been a void between the deck and the hull, braced with metal struts. Instead, a maddening tunnel of gore plunged into the unseen bowels of the ship. And there were patterns inside. Spiraling figures wound across the walls and disappeared further in. The image tugged at his mind like an unfinished crescendo.

A dreadful impulse made him shuffle his foot closer to the hole, and he said, “No!”

“Are you okay?” Buddy asked.

“Maybe he noticed what he was standing next to,” Study said.

Hoxley turned his head to the crate, noticing a large, unfamiliar serial number, then picked out a word, “Torpedoes.”

“Looks like they were nearly done with their retrofit,” Odybrix said, walking over and affixing a haphazard-looking device to the crate. “There.”

“Did you just stick a bomb to that crate of torpedoes?” Adam asked, aghast.

“Yea. What if we need to blow the ship up? Easier than breaking it apart with the Sunrunner’s plasma cannon.”

“Oh, I get the logic. My concern is that your homemade explosive looks like it will go off at the hint of a stiff breeze.”

Odybrix took in an exaggerated breath and blew on the improvised explosive, “There, see? Fine. Or do you want me to slap it around a bit for your peace of mind?”

“Please no!”

Buddy took Hoxley’s arm and gently pulled him away, “I think that’s enough spooky hole for you.”